quick catch up for the last 8 months

A lot has changed since I last posted. I'll try to summarize.

We weren't able to settle things to our liking at the old
house, so we moved to a bigger place in North Seattle,
where I can actually have an office. This picture shows
my niece covering our front walkway with roses as
a housewarming gift. But it's Seattle, so even though it
was June, it rained 4 hours later and -poof- it was gone. :( 

There's a big sun-room that used to be a front porch, which
John filled with plants. I got a grape vine that's grown the length
of the sun-room, and then some, in just the first few months.

There's a large covered back porch, something we've missed
so much since we left our house in Reseda, CA.

There's a big old man Willow tree right smack in the middle
of the private back yard. 

My new manager role has required a lot more travel than
I'm used to -- flights to the East Coast have been required
every other month since April. Little discovery: FL not
my favorite state ever.

We have a new addition to our family. Looks like a rat,
yet named after an angel -- the one and only angel --
Castiel (from Supernatural). 

Despite being one of the cutest things you've ever seen, he
exploded on the scene bearing fart-bombs (running into
the room, farting and dashing back out) and herpes (he's a
shelter baby). 

Lucifurr was NOT AMUSED.

*Little note: I'm totally downplaying the chaos and mayhem.

Our little girl has grown up and decided to move out on her own,
At 38 years old, my nest is half empty. 'Nuff said.

However, we all try to "keep it real" and not take life too seriously.

Cuz. Yeah.

dear diary

Today is the 3 week mark of Neato's brush becoming clogged with debris. Each afternoon, he wheels out of his base, revs up to take on the world of household debris, and realizes -- once again -- that his brush is stuck.

"Please free my brush of debris," he beeps politely. Again. And again, we ignore him and eventually nudge him back to his base to make sure he's charged for tomorrow's aborted attempt to rid our lives of household dust and kitty litter.

Chouji, the Roomba

I tried once to free his brush around week 1, but couldn't figure out how to open him up. Neato's predecessor, Chouji the Roomba, was so straightforward. I am bitter, but apathetically. Johnny's our household mechanic, and will probably eventually notice the problem around week 5 and fix it in a jiffy. Until then, I silently feel sorry for myself.

I've begun sweeping again, with a broom. It has a long handle and takes arm muscles to make work. The novelty of doing manual labor the old fashioned way wore off quickly. I try to talk other people into clearing brush-debris.

"I'm glad Neato's broken, his motor's too loud," grumbles my daughter, every time I complain.

"Then come use this old timey broom-thingy and do his job," says I. She laughs. Neato, 6 inches from his base and frozen there, beeps a reminder that he's ready to get back to work, just as soon as we clear his brush.

I sigh and take a swipe with the broom across the dinning room floor. Life shouldn't be this hard.

bestest b-day :D

Happy birthday to me! Two more years to 40.

It's been the best birthday ever, so far.

My present! :D

1.) I'm spending it with my favorite people every (Johnny and the kids), and they're doing everything I tell them to do.  *Evil grin.*
2.) Today is the day that the renter of the unattached garage/mother-in-law is supposed to be moving out, and we are going to acquire it. John and I are on pins-and-needles, because we can't wait to see inside! If it's big enough, we may move our bedroom out there and leave the house to the teenagers; good riddance! The bad news is, it's noon and there is not a single sign that he's packed a single box, much less ordered a moving truck. 
3.) Yesterday I received the formal offer for a new role at my company that I recently applied for.  There are many upsides to this new role, including that:

• It's a brand new marketing & sales Writing/Editing team. I love that I will be more focused on business writing and editing versus portfolio account management. I also love that it's a new team that's still hammering out its scope of services, so it's a little entrepreneurial in spirit and will remain so for a couple years to come. But once the dust settles, I'll be in a leadership role and will be very well placed for success. 
• It's a manager role with a big raise. So we can finally start thinking about buying our own house. 
• It's a full-time, work-at-home position. No more commute! Or rather, my commute will be stepping out of the Mother-in-law (brrr!), into the house and upstairs to a tiny, extra bedroom that I'll convert into my at-home office. 

engagement rules for being sick

We've been a household of sick since the holidays. My son Jude had the flu since prior to the holidays, and is only now really recovering. Of course he gave it to my daughter and I, and even my immuno-X-man husband got sick a week ago.

I, having the immune system of a STUPID, have gotten sick twice. Being that person who catches every bug that goes around, and then has trouble overcoming them, I've developed strict rules for coping, and limping toward recovery as quickly as possible:

We got my daughter the dark one. To illustrate
the girth and goodness of this bear,
I've stolen a picture from here
Keep in mind, this is a COSTCO cart.




1. Sleep sitting up (this is harder than it sounds, especially with a semi-old back injury, and requires mounds and mounds of pillows. This time, I've made off with my daughter's birthday present from last year... a HUGE, soft and cuddly teddy bear. When I say huge, I mean it's bigger than my 17 year old daughter, and definitely fatter than me. And oh, so much softer. He wraps his little arms around me and... no, actually, I ruthlessly crush him beneath my head and shoulder, ahhhhhh...)
2.  NyQuil (I told you, it's harder than you think to fall asleep sitting upright >.<)
3. No dairy  (Mucus-attack!)
4. Keep hydrated  (Tea, tea, tea, water and tea)
5. Asthma inhaler prescription (apparently even if you're not asthmatic, you can "get" asthmatic when you're sick. Huh.)

There it is, my handy checklist of (wishfully) healthy living. 

sweet sixteen

My baby just turned 16.

In which he claims his 1 was backwards
on purpose...

And my oldest is 17 and driving her own car around.

With the drivers seat pushed forward as far as
mechanically possible...

Sometimes I think I could forget the passage of time if it weren't so evident in them. 

Road trip back-seat shenanigans

new frontiers

Pretty neat

It has been fairly calm, snow-wise, here in Seattle during the winter of 2011.  With one notable exception, we had just a few short snowfalls that resulted in less-than-impressive coverage, as pictured here.  A month or more ago, walking the half-mile home to the new house after spending a day cleaning the old one we'd just vacated, John took this picture because he thought the blue shadow was pretty neat.

But this post is about the notable exception. 

~ * ~

Late February, I had to travel from Seattle to Portland, Oregon for a big meeting at a client.  Having flown from Seattle to Portland previously, my -0- positive memories about this experience, coupled with the newly minted threat of TSA jokes, cemented my belief that the 3 hours it would take to drive it had to be a better choice.  After all, it would take just as long to fly down as to drive it, if you take into account the time wasted at the airport, the unpleasant experience of rising to altitude only to spend 5 minutes there prior to the nausea-inducing decline, followed by another airport...  Driving was the clear choice for this seasoned, corporate traveler.

Of course, it happened that we were supposed to get the snowstorm of the year -- of several years -- the night I drove down. 

This is a dramatization based on true events, captured by real people
that are not me, and are not actors.  Please do not sue me.

Just so it's out there, not going was not an option.  I'm not suicidal, just... employment during recessions is a good thing. 

John, worried that I might get stuck somewhere alone along the highway, thought it would be a good idea to send Mae, our just-turned-16-year-old daughter, along for the ride.  Perhaps he thought it would be good if I had someone to eat if we got stuck on the side of the highway long enough.  Or vise versa.  Regardless, it was the first road trip Mae and I had ever had alone together, and it sounded kind of fun, so we filled the rental car with Monster energy drink, artery-clogging pastries and nuts (all guaranteed to taste better than skinny teenagers or juicy and tender mothers), and took off.  We listened to some music, had some mother-daughter chats, endured a white-knuckled 10 minutes worth of driving snow in our face, and then coasted in the clear to our hotel in Portland.

I worked late into the night at the hotel, preparing for the meeting the next day while Mae lounged around, watching TV and consuming 250 calories after 725 calories. A typical night. And in the morning, when I realized that the noon hotel check-out would not allow me to leave my teenager wallowing around in her PJed glory while I attended my full day meeting, I had a small melt-down, eventually found her a mall to amuse herself at, and toddled off to work.

As things would have it, Buddha, God and probably a fairy, too, were playing with us. It might have just been the weathermen, but let's be real; when have they ever gotten it right?  I heard it all day long, from every stressed business woman and man I ran into; the big storm, the real storm, the perfect storm, was coming tonight. Not last night.... tonight.  And a new, young co-worker of mine, who had chosen (badly, may I say?) to fly down from Seattle to attend the meeting, apparently decided she didn't want to fly back in the perfect storm, and begged a ride home from me in my wittle bitty rental. 

With my teenage daughter. Who hasn't found a single corporate person that she couldn't shock.

"Hahahahahaha... sure, that'd be fine! Hahahahahaha."  <-- nervous laughter

At 5:15 pm, my co-worker (let's call her Neo) and I drove over to pick Mae up from the mall on our way out of town, stopping only long enough to grab some Venti coffees and energy drinks from the corner Starbucks. I was a little preoccupied with thoughts of Mae saying something really shocking in front of Neo that I wouldn't be able to live down at work (because let's face it, teenagers can always come up with something shocking, and Mae x3) while trying to respond appropriately to Neo's chatter during the first forty-five minutes.  I had developed a new respect for her ability to talk non-stop for those 45 minutes, with barely a pause to sip from her coffee, when she switched momentarily to her cell, releasing me from the polite bondage of corporate connectivity. My respect grew to a fearful awe when it passed the hour and fifteen minute+ mark.  I re-visited the wisdom of actually allowing her to consume energy drinks, and realized that living with the intensely introverted John had mutated me into something of an introvert myself, and if I was really going to be trapped into this car for another two hours, I just might...  at which point I was gratefully distracted by an incoming blizzard. 

It started out much like last night, but quickly went from bad to worse. I couldn't take any pictures because 1.) my cell phone was out of battery, and 2.) I was driving and legitimately afraid to take my hands off the steering wheel, and 3.) Mae's cell was on its laaaaaast itty bitty legs, thanks to her bout at the mall, and I had sternly warned her to keep it off so that when we ran off the road we could call 911, and 4.) Neo was busy wasting her cell battery freaking out to someone about how scary this all was so that when we finally ran off the road, we would only have Mae's itty bitty battery on which to call 911.  However, I have endeavored to steal the following photos as a representation, to attempt to describe the experience for you. Bear with me.

Imagine this:

Lonely road (called I5 north, sure, but it's lonely when you can't see anything on the sides!)

Only it's dark!:

Like this

And it's blizzarding like crazy, so you can barely see a thing, and have to drive 2 miles an hour in a straight line behind the car right in front of you, so you don't accidentally drive right off the road:

Like this, only dark! With driving snow!

Until the crazy truck-drivers who think they are God drive up around you, going a psycho 30-miles an hour and sometimes failing, and you curse and laugh at them. And eventually you realize that there is a huge mass of semis all around you, everywhere, taking over the road and going nowhere. And then you look in your rear view mirror, and watch this big Ford truck, right behind you, just start sliiiiiiiiiding... sliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiding sideways, into another car.  And then you slam on the brakes because you were so fascinated with the slow slide of doom in your rear view mirror that you almost managed to run into the car in front of you, going 2 miles an hour. And you sliiiiiiiiiide just a bit, but at 2 miles an hour, you were one of the luckiest bastards on the road, and not only do you not hit the car in front of you, but you also manage to get moving again, which is a goddamn miracle.

Neo, of course, has not stopped talking yet. And she has something really freaked out, but tempered by inbred corporate politeness, to say about that near miss. I blocked it out.

After a short while, it looks like this, only many, many more semis, a lot darker, a little less snow on the road and a lot more snow coming down, faster than you can imagine:

Freaky, huh?!

Then all the coffee and energy drinks Mae just inhaled hit, and she interrupts Neo's monologue to beg me to pull over so she can pee. 

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA (I say.) I am very, very sorry to say this, but if I pull over, if I stop, we will never get started again! We are going 2 miles an hour, and if I go 3 miles an hour we'll slide off the road, and if I go 1 mile an hour, I'll either be ruthlessly run over by the truck going 2 miles an hour behind us, or we'll stall, and never get moving again. We'll have to eat whoever dies first to survive until the end of this apocalypse. There are no exits for another hour, at this pace, and even if we were right next to one, I couldn't possibly drive this American-made, generic rental car with no snow chains down the ramp without, again, getting stuck! 

So I'll just piss in this bottle, then (she says.)

WHAM.  There it is, the first shocker. Sadly, she's dead serious so I can't even laugh it off like she's joking.  That's okay, I just have to work with Neo every day, no biggie. I sternly declare her dead if she pisses in the bottle.

Then I'll just roll down the window and pee. No one can see anything! I really have to peeeeeeee!!

oh
my
gawd

If my sister was sitting beside me, this would be funny. In fact, I would be rolling on the ground laughing. But it's not my sister.

Like, just, stick your ass out the window and pee?!!

Yes!

I sternly declare her dead if she touches the window control. More nervous laughter is called for. Ha Ha Ha, those teenagers, where do they get it? (Will she think Mae learned that from me, that I modeled sticking my ass out of a moving car, mooning the freeway and peeing out of a moving car?)

At this point, we've approached the two-hour mark on our supposedly three-hour trip home, and the GPS says we have two more hours ahead of us. At 2 miles an hour, I think it's lying, and even Neo is faltering between breaths.  I finally confess that, since Mae and my cell phones are basically dead, and considering that jack-knifing semi right in front of us, maybe she should conserve her cell phone battery, to save me the ignominy of having to eat her.  She looked horrified, but geez, it's not like I drove off merrily into a blizzard without a working cell phone on purpose.

A little bit like this, only with a LOT more snow,
and no side rails  >.<

Speaking of that jack-knifing semi, it was the most hair-raising moment of the evening.  It was right in front of us when it went into its slow-motion, cringe-inducing kink, twisting sideways across all four lanes of the freeway. The only way around that truck was edging off the road, into the morass of tall, pristine snow climbing higher as we watched. But if I didn't get us around that truck, we would be stuck there on the road all night. Literally, all night, because there was no help coming... stuck in the car, because it was a blizzard out there and too cold to get out... and who knew how long until we were rescued, since we'd already passed dozens of cars and semis run off the road... No. No matter what, I couldn't let that happen. I was a desparate woman. 

Without a pause, I aimed for the side of the freeway, into all that snow.  There were no tire tracks in which to safely follow, and it was not a quick, smooth or pretty trip. I barely scrapped passed the front bumper of the semi, and Neo squealed. Mae... well, it's hard to impress a teenager.

Anyway, I did it. I got us around the semi, blazing the way for all cars stuck behind me, and was now forging a new trail.  There with no other cars ahead of us. It was eerie, and freaky. I was not impressed, especially when another truck driver went flying past at 15 miles an hour, taking everyone's lives into their stupid hands! Craziness, I tell you.

It went on for a long time like that. I eventually made it up to 5, 10 and then finished out the blizzard at around 30 miles an hour.  It was a wild ride... a five hour, wild ride.  Mae finally got her bathroom, two hours after her threat to bare her ass to the snow faeries.  And by then, I too was deeply regretting my two energy drinks. 

Once in Seattle, it was clear except -- of course -- for rain.  At approximately 11 pm, we dropped Neo off at her car and Mae climbed into the front seat. When I looked over at her, her eyes got really wide, and her hand raised, flapping in the universal sign for talking. We both burst into laughter. Neo had managed to find something to talk about for 5 hours straight. It's a gift, and we had never seen the like. We were tired, and in shock.  Since I had to work again the next morning, I pointed my trusty little rental car toward home, with a sigh.

Mother-daughter bonding... everyone need not apply.

one of my prettier moments today

I have had late nights all week.  Today will be another one, followed by--supposedly, because I'm super-woman?--simultaneous working + moving-into-another-house through the weekend.

Seriously considered taking a cat nap in the ladies room at work.  Decided against it, not because I was expecting a call at any moment---which I was---but because I might crack my head open on the floor tiles if I fell off the toilet.

Did I destroy some helpless public toilet in a past life, or am I just lucky lately?

missing my family

While John packs the house alone, I am working between 11 - 13 hour days as we near our move-in date.  Five days and counting.

And tomorrow is Tiffy's birthday.  I should be hanging out with the family as they gather to talk about memories, history, songs... but will be at work until late at night instead, speaking at a Women's Networking event.  If I wasn't a co-leader of the Women's Networking circle, if I wasn't speaking at the event... there would be no way you could keep me away from my family that day. Even letting that stop me makes me feel pretty pathetic.

So tired. Through no one's fault in particular, there is peace no where to be found right now.

i get sh*t done

I received an award!

No, really. I totally ripped it off of Hyperbole and a Half, because I, quote, manage to work and email and take care of kids and not kill [my] plants, unquote.  I'm cool that way.

Of course, that's exactly one plant that I haven't managed to kill, but it's been a couple years; that's a record, and worth mentioning.

Notice that there's actually 3 plants in this picture? Well, it's from 2008 and the only one still alive is the big one on the right, under the red lantern in the window. Uh-huh.
Stop looking at the dust on my lantern. It's OLD. Old things get dusty.  Get used to it. I'm a working mother. Times are hard.  Don't you get it?!

And on the 'taking care of kids' part, Johnny does an awful lot of that. I do my fair share, but let's be real; I've got a 'daddy's girl', and the 'mommy's boy' is more and more obligation the closer he approaches to full-blown puberty. I am, after all, the only one screaming bloody murder when he leaps over the back of the 100-year-old couch and swings the broom around like a sword (daily, uh-huh).  No one likes a screaming maniac with nails longer than yours.

happy thanksgiving

Because the snow has made Johnny's oldest brother's house unassailable, our traditional -- okay, I didn't know it was a tradition, but have since learned that two years a tradition makes! -- Thanksgiving house for the my husband's family and my family has been cut off until Saturday. "Oh, yay!" I thought. "Two more days to drag myself to the grocery store by bus to buy supplies for whatever dish I haven't yet decided to make!" Two days hence, we will have Thanksgiv-----

Eeeeeeeeeehhhh!!??

Apparently, the unanimous response of the family members who aren't stuck up in the hilly Eastside frost caves was to turn hard and bright eyes to the next oldest brother, Johnny. And hence I learn, last night, that I am having Thanksgiving for a dozen or more family members at my house today. With a table that doesn't begin to fit a dozen people, and not enough bowls. And food?

Last night we dragged our asses through the snow to the grocery store (and by the way, the bus in snow chains in freezing weather is four kind of loud hell!) and bought:

• Raspberry Chipotle dip, cream cheese & club crackers. 
• Half-n-half for coffee... and maybe mashed potatoes if I can find a recipe.  (Yes, I said it. Find a recipe for mashed potatoes.)  

That's right. Dip and mashed potatoes, if they're lucky. I have announced, through email and with suitably frantic adjectives, that anything resembling a turkey dinner will be on the heads of those who come!   >.<  They've been warned.

But Johnny's sister, O, bought the stuff for Green Bean Casserole, so I think I should stop puttering around on the computer avoiding the kitchen, and go help her make it.  Since that's one thing I can't seem to forget how to make.  (Even though I've tried. <3  The problem is Johnny isn't a fan, so I can't trust him to learn how to make it. So if I want it, I'll have to make it, mer. :( Ah, the sad life of a working mother!)

Wish me luck.

personal analysis

In case my last post of inarticulate bitching and moaning wasn't clue enough, I have been told by the doctor to remain on crutches for the entire month following my surgery---rather than moving to a cane and then nothing in the weeks following as I was originally told. This edict was handed down a week following my surgery, at my first check-up. I've had some weird symptoms and a distinct lack of improvement in the last 2+ weeks, which means I'm quite anxious to get back into the Dr.'s office this Thursday for my follow up.

Due to the crutches and a steady stream of pain medication, I am on medical leave from work while we come to mutually agreeable terms regarding working from home. This has been a wonderful chance to be with my family, and an urgent reminder of why I chose to go to work in the first place. I am in total awe of people, like my partner John, who can deal with the hectic and crazy stress of a house full of two teenagers (sometimes three when he watches his youngest sister during the day) and all the mess they can generate. The truth is, it just makes me feel inadequate when I realize how quickly I'm biting my tongue and reaching for my hair.  It's a personal failing, for sure.

The dichotomy of gratification/third-dimension-of-hell that home currently is has raised another of my family's ongoing obsessions:  personality analysis.  We found Sun Sign, Moon Sign by Charles Harvey to be a fascinating study of the various people in our lives, and the latest... the Kiersey personality test. Me, I'm an INFJ (or should I say, Ghandi? :D) and John's an INFP.  According to Kiersey.com:

Idealist Portrait of the Counselor (INFJ)

Counselors have an exceptionally strong desire to contribute to the welfare of others, and find great personal fulfillment interacting with people, nurturing their personal development, guiding them to realize their human potential. Although they are happy working at jobs (such as writing) that require solitude and close attention, Counselors do quite well with individuals or groups of people, provided that the personal interactions are not superficial, and that they find some quiet, private time every now and then to recharge their batteries. Counselors are both kind and positive in their handling of others; they are great listeners and seem naturally interested in helping people with their personal problems. Not usually visible leaders, Counselors prefer to work intensely with those close to them, especially on a one-to-one basis, quietly exerting their influence behind the scenes.

Counselors are scarce, little more than one percent of the population, and can be hard to get to know, since they tend not to share their innermost thoughts or their powerful emotional reactions except with their loved ones. They are highly private people, with an unusually rich, complicated inner life. Friends or colleagues who have known them for years may find sides emerging which come as a surprise. Not that Counselors are flighty or scattered; they value their integrity a great deal, but they have mysterious, intricately woven personalities which sometimes puzzle even them.

Blessed with vivid imaginations, Counselors are often seen as the most poetical of all the types, and in fact they use a lot of poetic imagery in their everyday language. Their great talent for language-both written and spoken-is usually directed toward communicating with people in a personalized way. Counselors are highly intuitive and can recognize another's emotions or intentions - good or evil - even before that person is aware of them. Counselors themselves can seldom tell how they came to read others' feelings so keenly. This extreme sensitivity to others could very well be the basis of the Counselor's remarkable ability to experience a whole array of psychic phenomena.

I've never wanted to be a counselor to anyone, of course, but I found a lot in the profile that resonated, sometimes with things I've been told by others, and some that I know for myself. Another description can be found on this site, which classifies INFJ's as "Protectors":

INFJs are concerned for people's feelings, and try to be gentle to avoid hurting anyone. They are very sensitive to conflict, and cannot tolerate it very well. Situations which are charged with conflict may drive the normally peaceful INFJ into a state of agitation or charged anger. They may tend to internalize conflict into their bodies, and experience health problems when under a lot of stress.

Because the INFJ has such strong intuitive capabilities, they trust their own instincts above all else. This may result in an INFJ stubbornness and tendency to ignore other people's opinions. They believe that they're right. On the other hand, INFJ is a perfectionist who doubts that they are living up to their full potential. INFJs are rarely at complete peace with themselves - there's always something else they should be doing to improve themselves and the world around them. They believe in constant growth, and don't often take time to revel in their accomplishments. They have strong value systems, and need to live their lives in accordance with what they feel is right. In deference to the Feeling aspect of their personalities, INFJs are in some ways gentle and easy going. Conversely, they have very high expectations of themselves, and frequently of their families. They don't believe in compromising their ideals.

* Italics mine

I like that John and I share the "INF"---Introvert (vs. Extrovert), Intuitive (vs. Sensory), Feeling (vs. Thinking)---which makes both of us Idealists... something I would have told you without taking a test!

Highly ethical in their actions, Idealists hold themselves to a strict standard of personal integrity. They must be true to themselves and to others, and they can be quite hard on themselves when they are dishonest, or when they are false or insincere. More often, however, Idealists are the very soul of kindness. Particularly in their personal relationships, Idealists are without question filled with love and good will. They believe in giving of themselves to help others; they cherish a few warm, sensitive friendships; they strive for a special rapport with their children; and in marriage they wish to find a "soulmate," someone with whom they can bond emotionally and spiritually, sharing their deepest feelings and their complex inner worlds.

Our primary difference---again something I could have told you!---is "Judging" (me) vs."Perception" (John). I tend to judge situations and people with a quick sweeping glance, but John holds back judgment on any and every thing. (Ok, that's a slight exaggeration, but it doesn't feel like it when we're at the grocery store and he refuses to make a decision on which bread to chose. Grrrr!)

The children are another story, and another dimension, altogether...

showin' up proud

I just heard that I will be receiving a letter of offer for the position in Sales & Marketing that I've been working toward for the last 3 months, as soon as I return from medical leave for my hip.  I am so happy about this job---I've been working hard to prove myself to the members of that group for 2+ years now, developing relationships and proving---the old fashioned way---that I am a great addition to the team.  It's such a great feeling when it finally pays off, after 4 years with the firm.

The firm I work for has such a high performance expectation that any promotion at all really means something. First you need to prove yourself to the recruiting officer down in Florida, who doesn't know you from Sam. Then 5 interviews with the local partners and the Director of the department... The competition is extremely sharp and well-educated, which I am not. Working up within a company that doesn't hire anyone without a degree, with no college education to call my own, can really make you question yourself.

Well, I'm done questioning. I'm going to blow their socks off, for the uneducated everywhere.  I got your back! ;D

interviews are so scary

Two today, two on Tuesday of next week... two yet to be scheduled. Talk about serious red-tape, a heart-attack inducing series of red-tape for me. Not that I didn't go through 3 interviews when I joined the company in the first place, but now that I'm trying to move up and on within... Accountants take their red tape very, very seriously.

Blot lipstick. Again. Separate eyelashes... what was I thinking when I put all this mascara on this morning? Oh yeah, fun times.

WTF, I don't even wear lipstick! [Blots off] Grumble... 

[reapplies lipstick, tool of patriarchy that it is]

motherhood

My 15-year-old daughter sneaks my camera to take pictures of boys, then bribes me with pictures of pretty fluff such as this "cuz I know you like them!"  Ahhh, to be played like a violin is the life of a mother.

On a sad note, a big tree in my mother-in-law's yard has recently come down in a storm.  This huge tree was the one with the swing hanging from it, on which all the babies and grand-babies spent hours every fourth of July. I'm enclosing pictures---posthumously, and rather morbidly---because it's what I do these days.

teen angst

Less than 24 hours before I am scheduled to undergo a cortisone shot in my hip joint (to help with the pain caused by the labral tear in my right hip from being hit by a truck last June), I find myself chasing my 3---I mean, 14-year-old daughter Mae through the park on the beach at dusk. Dodging dogs and joggers, neighbor folks and skateboarders, as she tries to lose me by darting up hills and down paths...

Who thought this little cutie would end up trying to do me in? Teenage angst, what did I do to deserve you?

~*~

"I'm full of music, huh?" --Mae, 5 years old

I had just undergone my first acupuncture treatment for the pain yesterday, and for the last 24 hours had definitely felt some relief. So much for that.

I am pretty nervous about tomorrow's cortisone shot. Reading different people's experiences with it last night was definitely a mistake. Not to mention, the arthrogram I underwent a week or so ago was pretty painful, and I humiliated myself by crying like a baby when the needle punched through the tender ring of (muscle? tendon? I don't even know) surrounding the joint. And this procedure is supposed to be basically the same thing... with a bigger needle.

Gah.

it's not just obama that wants moms to go back to college

So, to take my career where I'd like it to be, I'm looking to go back to college. I am a full-time working mother who is (currently) the sole support of my 4-person family. I have only attended continuing education classes at colleges before, so I had little to no understanding of the amount of competition out there between colleges. I was extremely unprepared and not-too-enthused about diving into it this last week, when I inadvertently did so.

When you click on a link online, agreeing that you'd like to get more information about college programs in your area, don't be naive like me and assume you're going to be mailed a list of their degrees and registration information to peruse on your own time. No, you will be called directly and aggressively, and at least 1.5 hours of your time will be wasted per call, and if you're not careful you will end up dealing with hard selling tactics and being treated like a baby as they walk you through the application process. Even when you just told them that it didn't appear that any of their degrees fit your long nor short-term goals (which was kinda impressive, when you think about it!) So much for a 'counselor' who actually cares about your educational or career goals.

Hard-selling college applications at $50 bucks a pop seems like an extremely questionable practice. Not that the $50 is a huge amount or even unexpected, but the full charge for a Bachelor's degree is, so it's hardly something that would be decided in a 1.5 hour call. I thought colleges were supposed to help you, not make you feel like you have to protect yourself from them.

Give me back my childhood, dammit.