It's HERE!!!

My scrapbooking stuff ARRIVED!!!!!! and it was kind of a surprise because I've been checking and checking and checking the tracking info (cause I'm a little bit really excited) and it didn't even look like it had shipped as of last night so when it got here today...

well...

YAY!!!

Initial Instagramming

I've embarked into the world of instagramming. It's fun... and maybe a tad bit narcissistic (see first picture). I can take pictures of the sun outside my window on Sunday morning (second picture), or lag behind on a walk to catch the glowing hills (third picture), or take pictures of scrumptious desserts that my coworkers bring to work (fourth picture). I am enjoying myself immensely.

Week Four, Day Two: Brain Dead

I am officially, officially brain dead. Let me illustrate:

I have two daily rounds through the offices. One in the morning, where I drop off morning mail to various people and dump some stuff in the outgoing mail pile. The other is in the afternoon, after I've processed my morning mail and I drop off a few more things to various people and dump my mail in the shredder.

Today, I did my morning run twice. Once in the morning, once in the afternoon. My shredding ended up in the outgoing mail bin, where it was confusedly picked up by the shipping guy, brought to my supervisor, who brought it to me with a questioning eyebrow.

Ohhhhhhhh dear.

For the longest time, I couldn't figure out what happened. I don't actually remember taking my afternoon rounds. But the above explanation is the only logical one.

So it's official. Not even halfway through week four and I'm brain dead. That's nice.

To Be(lieve) or Not to Be(lieve)

Irv, your friendly neighborhood girl scout cookie man, was back today. This time, I got fair warning that he was coming from Andrea.

me: Did you bring me cookies?
Irv: No, no cookies today.

pause as he signs out his badge

Irv: You have the most beautiful eyes.
me (turning bright red on cue): Thank you.
Irv: How often do people tell you that?
me: I've never heard it before.
Irv: They're all blind.

And off he went, leaving me cautiously happy. On one hand, he paid me a lovely compliment. On the other hand, given his record, I'm not sure if he meant it sincerely or just wanted to watch me turn funny colors.

Happy Monday!

Apple, Solver of Problems

I am now the (super duper) proud owner of an iPhone 4S. Go me! My favorite features include the fact that I can set it to chirp like a bird when I get a text message (such a happy, pleasant sound) and the camera. It's a lovely camera. It takes purdy pictures. It even allows you to be an absolute narcissist and take pictures of yourself.

I'm used to doing the awkward hold-the-camera-so-it's-facing-you-and-hope-for-the-best-with-your-aim thing. I assumed that I had to do the same thing with my new camera. A higher resolution picture, maybe, but not very well... framed.

But Apple has fixed my problem. There's a little button that you push that causes the camera to turn around and point at you! Ohmygoodness this makes the narcissistic pictures of myself not only higher resolution, but actually centered. Or somewhat flattering since I can arrange my face accordingly.

What makes me laugh about this whole scenario, though, is that my Italian Mama knew about this feature and I didn't.  TAC really did an effective job of killing any tech savvy I might have otherwise possessed.

Freaking Out

Wake up.
Bumble around until fueled (Deo Gratias for coffee!).
Zumba.
Order tons of stuff from 2 Peas in a Bucket.
Eat lunch.
Head to the Verizon store where I purchase an iPhone.
Work on quilt.

Be very, very excited. All day.

Best day ever.

Picture Perfect, Not a Perfect Picture

Income + Me = New Dress. I couldn't help it. It's beeeautiful. I have always wanted a dress like this one. Creamy, lacy perfection.

These pictures don't really do it justice, but I can't really photograph myself. So the dress hangs on a hanger, in the only place to hang a hanger: a curtain rod. The backlit effect hides the color and also makes the dress look scandalously see-through. Which it isn't. Really.

I love my new dress. *happy sigh* An awesome start to the weekend.

And this weekend will only get better: tomorrow I'm going to get serious and place an order for scrapbooking stuff with 2 Peas in a Bucket. So stoked. I'll take a picture of my loot when it gets here with my new iPhone. (yeah, I'm getting that this weekend too!)




(Haha, rereading this post, I realize that I sound like an extreme materialist. I really don't buy things this often. Really. Really, really)

Tested, Passed

I passed a ridiculous test today at work. The test known as "how-calm-and-professional-can-you-be-when-faced-with-a-big-black-man-who-is-insisting-you-let-him-in-the-secure-office."

Yes, that's what it's really called.

No, not really.

It doesn't really have a name. Aside from... a mean and nasty trick to play on the new girl. Or, in shorter terms: a practical joke.

The background: I am not allowed to let anyone through the locked doors without an escort. I am only allowed to call someone to escort them if they have an appointment. Once I have confirmed an appointment, I can issue them a badge so they can get through the locked doors with their designated escort. This is a very, very strict rule. No breaky-breaky this rule.

What happened: A big man came in. Not like a fat man, but a big and tall black man.
Him: Who can I speak to about selling girl scout cookies?
Me: I don't know...
Him: Well, don't you work here?
Me: (well, yeah, duh) Yes, I do.
Him: I think I have a name... Andrea?
Me: Let me call her... (dial)
Me: There's a gentleman out here to see you about girl scout cookies.
Andrea: We only buy cookies from our employees.
Me: Ok, I'll let him know. (she hangs up)
I explain to him that she will not be coming out. People are only issued badges when they have appointments. He was very, very insistent. He kept telling me to call her again and tell her his name. After a couple of minutes, he was really starting to kinda freak me out. He wouldn't leave. He sounded like a crazy person, going on and on about selling girl scout cookies. What middle aged gentleman sells girl scout cookies. And won't leave when you tell him the lady won't see him.

At this juncture, Andrea comes out and starts laughing. Like bent over, knee slapping laughing. "Oh, Irv" she says. She realized after she hung up that it must be him. Apparently he comes in every couple of weeks, but since I'm new, I didn't know him. Apparently he also has quite the sense of humor. Hence, he decided it would be fun to see what would happen.

They both laughed, I turned bright red, issued him a badge, and they left. When they came back, he told me that I was quite the little gatekeeper and that they should keep me. Andrea supported this and said that she could tell me that it was all a test and that I passed.

Or we could all be honest and admit that Irv enjoyed playing a joke on the new receptionist. And it certainly added a few minutes of fun to my otherwise non-colorful day.

I also learned that I can tell people no. Over and over and over again.

Head Over Heels

I'm in love. I'm in love with scrapbooking. I want to do more. I want to create beautiful pages to which I paste family photos. It's a great way to use some of my many, many photographs. I love to photograph. When I'm rich (yeah, that's not going to happen), I want to buy a really nice camera. At the moment, I have the nicest point-and-shoot that money can buy... and it takes good pictures. With scrapbooking, I hope to take an image I love and devote a whole page to it and the story behind it.

Like my dear friend who was a beautiful bride...

 

Or my second date with my "big brother" .... (not as weird as it sounds)

Or my Italian Mama posing for summertime pictures...

 I am SO excited about this. It's ridiculous.

The Ties That Bind

Four years in one place. Many, many friends. Good times. Not so good times. Daily Mass, daily class, daily arguments, daily hugs, daily life with four hundred people. Every day, day in and day out, same people, same routine. I loved it. There were moments I hated it too, but I always loved it.

How much I loved it really hit me this weekend, when my social networks were filled with updates of my friends going back to school. Without me. They'll matriculate and go to class while I go back to work. Work is work. Not bad, not good... a job that gives me money. My old schoolmates will all think and learn and I won't be thinking. I will be "learning"... not to know, but to be able to repeat tasks a multitude of times correctly. No causes, no truth.

It all feels so... empty.

My mother assures me that this is a phase. A transition period. Something that will pass. I hope she's right (she usually is right). That doesn't mean I like it, though. I distinctly dislike it.

(and I know I'm whining. but sometimes, you just really need to whine. especially about the important stuff. and how it's over. forever. please let new important stuff arrive in my life soon!)

Crafty Lady

So I've ventured into the world of scrapping. Not the fighting kind, the picture, glue, paper, sticker kind of scrapping. I may have gone a little crazy with it on my first day. Not one page, but three. Hee hee!! :)

First page: Family pictures from 1994. 

We had a difficult time coordinating these things. Our faces misbehave. I love these pictures :)

 

Second page: Halloween 1994. 

A series of pictures that make me crack up. That hat was way too big for the brother.

 

Third page: Beach Day in November 1996. 

Here in San Diego, we can go to the beach year round.

p.s. - I love this new hobby. I may need to get to the real store and get some real supplies. Not Elmer's glue, hair ribbons, and cocktail umbrellas.

He Speaks!

The Awkward Man is evolving. First, he didn't bring a book to work today. Second, he spoke to me. Unsolicited. TWICE. He is becoming the un-awkward man. Or at least, less awkward than he was at first. No more running away! Yay!

The two occasions, while unsolicited, were rather unusual. The first happened upon the installation of the sun in my office. I could tan by the light of this bulb. After my dark, creepy atmosphere, the new aura that surrounds me is quite startling. Most people visibly started when they walked in. He just sort of looked around and asked if that light was always on. I explained about the invasion of the electricians earlier in the afternoon and he laughed at my new glow. He said it was fascinating. So yes, a new light bulb prompted our conversation.

Our second conversation was prompted by me kneeling on the floor. It's attention grabbing, I guess. They can't see me behind the desk so they look around and then find me on the floor. Well, most people realize I'm kneeling on the floor. He thought I had intentionally lowered my chair so that my chin didn't come up much past the desk. I explained, he sympathized, we discussed the weather, and he left. So yes, unusual work habits prompted our second conversation.

But he speaks. Voluntarily. Huh. 

Bikini-Clad Catholic?

A topic of hot debate: can girls concerned with modesty wear a bikini? Points of concern: the girls' dignity, the boys' eyes and imaginations. But for this Catholic girl, it really has always come down to one thing: they just aren't flattering.

Don't get me wrong, please. It's not that I don't think that girls have dignity and beauty (because they do). It's not that I don't think boys should view girls as lovable, not gawkable (I will personally slug any boy I catch gawking openly). It's not that I don't believe that boys have rather vivid imaginations (I just have to trust the ones I know... and the ones who deny that they're that way... well, I don't know any of them, so my clothing choices are really neither here nor there as far as they're concerned). But those subjects have been hashed and rehashed by people for years. And I mean years. Smart people, dumb people, extreme people (to both sides), girls, guys, Catholics, non-Catholics... people have a bit of an obsession with the modesty thing and I am not going to join on that band wagon. I am not going to approach this from moral grounds. I am going to approach this from my base female nature (by which I mean my instincts, not that I'm gross or a lower being or something).

The simplest reason that I don't want to wear them is that I look ridiculous in them. My Italian heritage has pre-determined too many things about my shape. It is not something I care to expose to the world. I like my tummy covered, thank you. Because it's not all that pretty. Honestly (no offense, ladies), I don't think most girls look fabulous in bikinis either. Sure, there are bikini models in the world. They look stunning and gorgeous. Maybe too gorgeous for masculine imaginations to handle. That said, most of us don't look like them. Right? C'mon.

So maybe, in the end, I am keeping myself covered to help the fellas'. And the gals, too. No one wants to see this.

Week Two

This will probably get really depressing if I keep it up, but for now, this title system is going to have to do it for me. Brain fail.

Some updates from my office, aka, the second-floor elevator lobby.

The Awkward Man: we continue to make progress. He hadn't finished the book he started at the end of last week. I have further established that the genre of the books he is currently reading: teenager books. A little less inspiring and maybe frightening. We shall see what the next development in this storyline is. :)

Acquiring competence: I feel as though I am finally getting the hang of my various duties. I will probably end up with more difficult duties once I get the hang of these, but the feeling of competence is nice while it lasts. Or until my over-confidence leads me to almost issue a $2,000 check instead of a $20.00 one. Glad I caught that!

Overheard: a lady walking across my office  the elevator lobby, "Only four more days!!!!" uuuuh. Not how I usually think of Mondays. But whatever gets her through it.

What *I* Do Best

People have stuff they're good at. All sorts of stuff. Usually, it's enhanced by a college education and supplemented by experience in the workforce. Engineers. Doctors. Musicians. Radiologists. Etc.

But what's a girl with a double major in Philosophy and Theology and a minor in math, but lacking in the patience that is requisite for teaching, to do? She works 40 hours a week doing things she's relatively not good at. Like answering the phone and doing accounting clerk stuff. In the evening, she drags her tired self to Bible study. And there she gets to do what she does best.

Last night I ventured out of the house. I was hesitant to go since I was so very tired, but I decided it would be good. Worst case scenario, I could fall asleep on the floor while the video was playing. That isn't what happened, though. We all watched the video. I raised a quizzical eyebrow at some of the claims made, but agreed with most of it. The discussion that we had afterward wasn't always focused. We talked about trivial things (like catching "spiritual fleas") and serious things (like the meaning of "transverberation"). I brought up some reservations that I had with some of the claims made on the video, but found that I had the most to say about anything. I had strong opinions... most other people had questions.

I felt so obnoxious. I kept telling them to tell me to shut up if I was getting annoying, but the evening ended up evolving into a Q&A session with me as the resident source of knowledge. I was kind of embarrassed, but I did have an answer for everything. I tried to speak simply, but I still made their brains hurt. I was asked to bring a lexicon next time. Not in a bad way... they all wanted to know more.

I apologized multiple times for spouting factoids and syllogisms concerning the goodness of being as such and how we can be sinful and given grace simultaneously. They just sort of... popped out. But they were just grateful.

I realized on the way home, though, that while they were impressed, this is what I do best. I don't get to do what I do best at work, but after work. I was given a top-notch education at TAC. I don't know everything, but I've got a head-start on most everyone else. If I can't answer questions like this, what can I do? I was educated to know. I just hope I can use that to help others reach the same thing.

Truth. Goodness. Beauty. For the win. 

SUGAR HIGH!

I thought I might title the post as something that warn y'all about what may turn into a manic-sounding post. It's Friday, I just got out of work, and I just ingested some Starbucks drink that probably has more sugar than you're supposed to have in a week. YAHOOooOooOOOooooOOO!!!! (that was fun)

So I survived a week. Is that too drastic to say? Is it not accurate to celebarate surviving the first week of a new job? If it makes you feel better, we can say I "finished" a week. Much less dramatic, but nonetheless true. But what is life if not a bit dramatic at times. Or, at least, my life is a bit dramatic all of the time. (wow, you can see the sugar in that sorry excuse for a paragraph)

So, here's an account of various recent happenings in the workplace.

1) I finished my first week of work. Oh yeah, I already mentioned that.

2) I met the most awkward man. He, at the very least, is so shy that he is really, really awkward. I feel so bad for him. He might be a wonderful man. But here's what I've experienced.

Monday, my first day on the job, I saw a lot of unfamiliar faces walk past. Most of them didn't say hello, they just went about their business. One man, however, got about half way across the lobby, saw me, jumped a foot in the air, then literally ran away. I'm not using that term to signify just leaving the scene without communicating, I mean literally running. Head down, bolting for the door. For the next couple of days, every time he walked by (and he walks by more than almost anyone else), he would just stare at his shoes.

By Thursday, he would glance at me every couple of steps, looking terribly frightened and mumbling to himself. It was all I could do to not laugh. Not at him, but just at the absurdity of the situation. Imagine anyone being afraid of me. Exactly. The thought is ridiculous.

I noticed something about this fellow, though. He is always reading on his breaks. At least, I presume he reads on his breaks because he reads as he is walking to and from his breaks. Nose in book, completely absorbed in the contents, but somehow managing to avoid the walls. The book he was reading on Wednesday and Thursday was red. The book he brought in today was blue. This led to our first verbal communication.

He came up the elevator, intently reading. I asked him, in as friendly and non-threatening a voice I could manage, if he'd finished the red book. He looked up, slightly startled, but didn't run away. He asked me what I had said (he hadn't understood what I said) and I repeated the question. I said I noticed him reading and noticed that he'd brought a blue book instead of the red one. He smiled and said he'd finished the red one in two days. I noted that he was a fast reader and his smile widened into a genuine grin. He asked me to buzz him in since his hands were full, which I was happy to do. We're making progress.

3) My boss now knows I'm Catholic
So I have like, a bazillion bosses. But my boss-boss (as far as I can tell, he's the end of my personal chain of command) stopped by my desk today to see how I was. I had met him on Monday, but hadn't really seen him since.

For this story to make sense, I need to share a tidbit. When I sit for too long, my hips pop out of socket. To avoid this dilemma, I have to occasionally kneel on the floor at my computer for five minutes at a time. Ok, so now you know.

Back to the boss-boss. I appreciated that he came by, BUT (and you can probably guess where this is going) he walked in as I was kneeling on the floor. Probably kinda weird for him. He was very professional and stuck to his task, only asking the appropriate question - "How is the job going?" Not "why the heck are you kneeling on the floor???" which is what I would have asked if I had been in his position. So I freely offered the information, explaining my quandary. He laughed and admitted that he wanted to ask, but, as he explained, "then I would end up in HR again getting a lecture." Ah, office policy. He's a guy. I'm not. Hence, questions like "why the heck are you kneeling on the floor???" are apparently faux pax. He offered to get a cushion for me to kneel on. I laughed and told him not to worry about it. "I'm Catholic," I explained. "I'm used to kneeling all the time. And it's Friday, so I could use the extra penance." I begin to suspect he is/was Catholic since this didn't confuse him at all. He just said that Mass was shorter than a work day. True statement. I assured him that I'd let him know if I needed anything. Then he continued on his way to do boss-boss things.

The End.

Day Three

Yet again, a wonderfully creative title. This is what work does to my brain. Zaps the creativity right out of me and replaces it with useless mush. My dreams have evolved into accounting program problems and angry customers on the phone. All day and all night... my life has literally turned into a receptionist/accounting clerk existence. My world revolves around it. At least for now. People assure me that once I get more used to the job, I'll relax more. Maybe even stop dreaming about it. We'll see. I'm not ordinary chopped liver.

And no, I don't know where that last sentence came from.

You may or may not have noticed that Day Two is missing. That, ladies and gentleman, is because I fell asleep at eight o'clock last night. Yup. It wasn't even completely dark outside. I was sooooo tired. I barely zombied my way through putting together lunch before I crashed. Tonight is a (more or less) different story. I am pretty awake. I worked out (yay Zumba!), ate dinner, and actually had the energy to sit in front of my computer for a little while longer. (blog posts don't write themselves) Today just went better. I was busy, a bit overwhelmed at times, but I got through it. I plugged away at stuff, this time fairly confident that I was doing it right. I think I only inadvertently misdirected half a dozen calls instead of... well... possibly all of them. Like what may or may not have happened on Monday.

But I think a very large contributor to my happiness was the fact that I got through "hump day." Since Wednesday is positioned in the middle of the week, it's like getting up to and over the top of a hill. Tomorrow is Thursday, which means the day after that is Friday. And then it's the weekend. Weekends are so much more exciting when you work all week. Then, of course, it will be Monday again, but we won't mention that yet. :)

Day One

Creative title, eh? I'm feeling a little sluggish. I spent so many hours in front of a computer today. Today, as you see, was my first day of work at a real life job. Forty hours a week doing... well, I'm not really sure what. Technically, I'm the receptionist. What I feel like is a random person who walked in the door and has no idea who anyone is or what they do... or even where exactly I am.

You see, I got this job through a temp agency. I didn't apply for this specific job at this specific company. I didn't even intentionally apply to a temp agency. I was on one of those websites where you can efficiently send out resume after resume into the vastness of the internet. All of that aside, I did get a job. A long-term temporary job. Long term, as I'm told, is through Christmas. Ho ho ho.

I know that the company sells promotional products to individuals, small business owners, as well as major distributors. I know that we have different divisions so there are different customer service and billing departments. I know we have an IT department, though who is in it and who is in charge is beyond me. I also know that most of our extensions that I can transfer calls to go out of state, but I never know which state. I know we have a CEO. Somewhere. I think he's in the building. Somewhere. I met his assistant. Great, wonderful, sweet, extroverted assistant.

I spent the day trying to remember the detailed instructions that I was being given and then repeating the tasks. I ran into some issues, though.

The first was that, given my ignorance of the nuances of the company infrastructure, I didn't know where I should transfer the rapidly incoming calls. I made my best guess. I probably also made some departments mad with inadvertently misdirected calls.

Second, I don't speak Spanish. The lady on the phone, who was from Mexico, kept talking louder and louder while I responded slower and slower. Neither of these strategies helped bridge the language barrier.

Third, I spent most of the day working with some sort of accounting program. I think. I'm pretty sure that's what it was. Anyway, I pushed the buttons the way I was instructed. It didn't make sense to me. And since I didn't know what I was doing or why I was doing it, I had nothing by which I could judge the execution of my duties.

True to my philosophy major, I wanted the answer to why. All day. I wanted to ask why. But receptionists... don't ask why. They try not to embarrass the company. And maybe, as a bonus, they escape embarrassing themselves.

Greyhound #2?

It's a question floating around our house. Should we adopt another greyhound? As far as dogs go, they're pretty low maintenance. Short fur, no drool, very little (if any) barking. Our current pet has peculiarities, though. She's super, super hyper during parts of the day. She's a love sponge (read: climbs into your lap at every available opportunity). She freaks out whenever we come back after leaving her alone. Rampaging, jumping, head-butting.

There are three possible outcomes to getting a second one. The problem is, we don't know which one is probable. We'd ask for a calm one (they usually come that way, but we didn't want a boring dog; we picked the most excited one in the kennel).


Scenario 1: Dog 2 Calms Dog 1 Down
Sometimes dogs can have a calming influence on each other. One gets riled up, but sees that the other one isn't joining in the romp and settles back down with its buddy. Maybe Dog 1 could learn some manners from her new friend.


Scenario 2: Dog 2 Has NO Influence on Dog 1
If we get an aloof dog, it's completely possible that Dog 2 won't be involved in Dog 1's life at all. He could just sleep all the time, maybe watch Dog 1 rampage, but Dog 1 and Dog 2 wouldn't have any common activity. Dog 1 would go her way, Dog 2 would go his. No added chaos, but no less chaos either.

Scenario 3: Dog 1 Gets Dog 2 Wound Up
Knowing Dog 1, it's entirely possible that she'd rub off on a new acquisition. Dog 2 might start out aloof and calm, but see the fun and join in. We'd have two big dogs, full of energy, and lacking in manners. And that sounds overwhelming. Someone (like, one of the people) would get killed in the mayhem.

You see our predicament.

(More or Less) Recent Sightings

If a picture is worth 1000 words, this may very well be the longest post I've published in a while. All with so little effort, too. That's how I roll on a lazy day like today.

A racer's drink of choice. (and ya'll thought it was in the genes) 

An allergen free birthday treat and extraordinary birthday candles.

Bright jewelry is appropriate on a July day.

Curiosity may have killed the cat, but the greyhound has survived so far.

 

Decorative flowers are all the rage in the dog-o-sphere.

 

Yellow flowers are the best.

Well, maybe a close second after red gerber daisies.

I promised

Here's the link to my Italian Mama's blog:
http://mymultifacetedmusings.blogspot.com/
It has about 300 words on it now.

Alternate Route

Every one of us has been the victim of a traffic jam. Stuck in a car, surrounded by cars, only trying to get somewhere so you can get out of the car. On the streets around town, there are two main culprits: construction zones and schools.

There is always construction somewhere. Whether they're resurfacing, repainting, or simply surveying the land, there are orange cones narrowing lanes or blocking them completely. My family has a theory that the CA unions have some sort of deal where they get to work in an inefficient manner so that they always, always have work.

The schools are another problem. To start, school zones are 25 mph when children are present. Then there is the problem of the massive congestion due to hundreds of SUVs all trying to wend their way through the streets, in and out of parking lots, all the while not hitting the tiny people who seem oblivious to the dangers of walking across the street full of cars driven by middle aged women. On top of all of this are the school buses. Oh, how I hate them. They stop and stick those little stop signs out and you can be stuck for inordinate amounts of time. I understand the need for those stop signs, I really do. Children are incapable of pivoting their heads back and forth to check for traffic. Head pivoting is saved for the classroom where they turn around and talk to their friends instead of doing their math problems. So we all have to stop and wait for them to make their way off the bus and wander across the street or down the sidewalk at their leisure.

Between these two things, what should be my 25 minute commute will be nearly an hour every morning. We'll probably take some detours through neighborhoods to avoid the mass chaos, but there's only so much that can be done. Unless we take a different approach and promote homeschooling. Then everyone could stay in their beautiful houses. Really, it's a win-win. They'd get more for their money. There would be no gas costs. They'd spend more time in their houses, which they are paying large amounts to stay in anyway. They'd reduce their footprint and the carbon footprints of others. We'd all spend less time on the road emitting whatever it is cars emit when they're idling in traffic.

It's an unusual argument for homeschooling, but alternate routes are the best routes sometimes.