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 |  If you havent ever read my blogs, give them a go! You will be amused at my journey! |
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Me and Holo-Zoo are building a submarine here next to the pond. We're determined that we're gonna find out what's at the bottom of this damn thing... ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ... If you're new to my journal, you've got a lot of catching up to do. So, don't be a slacker, get the full story. Here are my first two journals for your reading torture.
You don't have to read them all at once. Print 'em, and take them to that little reading room with the white chair. You know you love to read in there. Or print 'em out and use them as doorstops, bookends, or paperweights. You may prefer to leave a message on my voice mail. I award weekly Gift Points for clever, and or entertaining messages left there.
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| A company car is a must-have item, not a negotiable item. It was offerred to me in my very first converstation with the man in the home office. It would really be a shame if they pulled that off the table now. Toyota Highlander, Nissan Pathfinder, Jeep Grand Cherokee, Toyota Camry LE, Honda Accord LX, or Nissan Altima S. These would seem to be my choices provided the branch manager actually approves this over a mere "car allowance". He'll have to make that decision, because the cost comes out of the branch budget not corporate... Maybe that's why he only offerred me the car allowance vs. the company car. I just gotta have the car. No two ways about it. In terms of handling the difficult logisitics of getting kids to school on time and making sure Z can get to work, and S can get to whatever voice lesson or clarinet lesson she may have, we are going to need that third car. In my current position I have the liberty of a set routine, one in which I can be available to be a taxi service for my kids even with only two cars. But if you put me out in the field every day, doing audits and keeping irregular hours, and I become unreliable to my kids, PLUS I have one of the cars that they need. It would never work with only a car allowance. Id' have to buy another car with the car allowance, and I'm not sure that anyone would finance me with the two car notes we have now, in addition to a giant mortgage. And besides, I don't want to put crazy miles on my car. I'd much rather put them on a company car. I still have not received definitive answers from anyone about this. My branch manager made me an offer yesterday which included the dreaded and undesirable "car allowance", and a salary figure that in my opinion could be a little larger based on my years with the company and my experience. I have no audit experience per se, but my whole workers' comp career has involved solving premium disputes, and in that sense plenty of audit knowledge has seeped into this ol' brain. I don't think I am entry level material, by far. I've been around the game way too long, now, and know too much about how it all works to be entry level. The only learning curve I would have would be in learning the various computer applications that I would have to start using. That, and maybe studying up on the Manual of Classifications, and I'll be hell on wheels in no time. I need the company car, and a little bit more money, and then I'll be happy. I've asked for both, and now, just like yesterday, I'm waiting again. Waiting, waiting, waiting. Zoo - Salted and Roasted   ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| I have some "sick" organizational skills. You decide what definition of sick I'm using. I'm mad, too. Not angry. Not crazy. Maaaaad. Um.... Yeah, okay. I'll just push right along.... Right now the windows next my head are humming and vibrating to the frequency of the septic sucker out in the back of the building. There's a big white truck parked in the grass, sucking solid waste from the ground through a long yellow hose. I just came from down there where I talked to the truck driver into feeding that hose up to the second story and into my window. He's gonna throw the hose up here, and I'm going to suck all the damn papers and crap off of my desk with it. Well, I didn't exactly talk him into it. It was more like I greased him up with a twenty dollar bill. He was more than happy to do it, and soon I'll have a clean desk and all my work caught up. Whenever I look at my desk and there isn't any paper on it, I know I must be caught up. Why do companies insist on painting the nastiest, dirtiest vehicles white? Garbage trucks & septic suckers both have dirty-ass jobs. Painting them white only magnifies the dirt and makes it show up better. Septic trucks should be painted brown, shouldn't they? Anyway, hurry up and bring that sucker-hose up here, fella. I have a million yellow post-its waiting for you, in six different stages of color fade depending on how long they've been stuck to my bulletin boards. I have untold number of state classification updates, about 80 unread newsletters from the auditor's association, and pages and pages of allocation requests that were faxed and refaxed to the home office and then pages and pages of confirmations spit out by the fax machine indicating to me, "Yes, you idiot, the fax went through the first time. Don't be so paranoid." I need a clean slate at this desk. I need to get rid of all the clutter, rearrange everything a little and create some new wide open table space. Partly because I need a fresh start, but mostly so I can spread my newspaper out at lunchtime. This clock radio is taking up too much space. *tosses it in the trash* How's that for time management? Zoo - Salted and Roasted ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| It was probably twenty years ago when Richard rolled up to my parent's house one day and asked me if I wanted to make some money. I was twenty-two years old and I liked money a lot. I just never had enough of it. Still don't. Back then, cigarettes were maybe a dollar a pack, a burger- two dollars, a six pack- three dollars. He explained to me that we were going to paint house numbers on curbs. I was skeptical, but he said it was as easy as falling off a roof, something he used to do for shock value when he was expecting visitors. That's right. For awhile there, if he knew you were coming, he'd hide on the roof of his house, and wait for you to ring the doorbell. Then he'd make a great deal of commotion by rolling off the roof, and landing in the hedges below. He loved seeing his friends' reactions as he emerged from the hedges unscathed and smiling. It's ironic that years later, he fell through a skylight in downtown Austin breaking his back and foot. He still has nerve damage in the foot, and a few screws and plates holding the bottom of his spinal cord together. We've jumped off the waterfall at Hamilton's Pool together, went hand over hand hanging from steel beams underneath overpasses, climbed straight up sheer cliffs using vines to cling to the face like rock spiders, and went deep underground, exploring and even excavating some caves that we had no business entering. He has slowed down a lot with the broken back, and I eventually decided that "death-defying" was not quite the adjective I wanted printed on my tombstone. But before that, we were fearless, and determined. Richard was actually the one that taught me how to really sell yourself, how to have fun in the process and how to make people give you money. We drove around in our hometown that day, searching for a good neighborhood to paint curbs. In the trunk was a large rectangle of cardboard, with a smaller rectangle cut out of the middle; a template for the numbers' background. The numbers were a set of stencils that Richard made and cut out himself. We made some good money that day. Disguised as ACC College students, we'd convince people that they needed a bright shiny house number painted on their curb for 10.00 bucks, If that wasn't going over well, we'd go down to 7.50 or 5.00 depending on the atmosphere at the time. He had his sales pitch down pat, and I quickly picked up on it. "Hi, sir! My name is Richard, I'm an art student from ACC working my way through college. We're painting house numbers on all the curbs in your neighborhood. We do a professional job, and if you don't like our work we don't want you to pay us for it." Depending on what kind of customer we were talking to we might add things like how beneficial our high contrast numbers are for Emergency vehicles and delivery people to find your house, or how we are promoting "unity in the community", or that we paint a "superb curb". As with any other kind of sales job where you are walking the streets and knocking on doors, it can be frustrating when people aren't buying. But on the days that they were buying our numbers, we would make good money. In an hour's time you can knock on between 10-20 doors. If you get 3 people to say yes, at 10.00 bucks a pop, you just made 30.00 dollars an hour. You can work two or three hours and then go home at that rate. All you need is the stencil kit, which you can either make yourself or buy at a hardware store when you buy your spray paint. A can of white for the background, and a can of black for the numbers. I took a curb kit with me when I went off to college at North Texas State. It came in handy many times when I needed or wanted a few quick bucks. When my kids go off to college, I'm giving them both curb kits, too, and showing them how to paint numbers on curbs. It's easy, and the money can be quite good, surprisingly enough. You do end up with paint all over your hands at the end of the day, but you'll also have a stack of fives and tens to show for your hard work. I've sold newspapers subscriptions and had a paper route at fourteen. I've sold magazines and vaccuum cleaners door-to-door, and I've painted house numbers on curbs in nice neighborhoods. And now, all these years later, I'll be out in the field again, going from door to door, business to business. Only this time, I'll have an appointment, someone will be expecting me, and my fingernails won't be painted black when I get home. I think I like that. Zoo - Salted and Roasted ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
I was surprised to learn this morning that Fidel Castro's sister lives in Miami, Florida. She left Cuba in 1966 and went to Mexico because she did not agree with her brother's philosphy about how Cuba should be run. Later she moved to Florida and still runs a business there. No, she doesn't share her brother's radical ways, but he is still her flesh and blood, and she is saddened at the way people in Little Havana, and other places where pockets of her countrymen live, are acting over the news of his stomach surgery and general bad health. People are celebrating as if the guy died, but he is still alive. Very sick, but still alive. Can you imagine being this woman? She fled Cuba for the same reasons that everyone else did, but the difference for her is that the awful tyrannical leader that everyone wants to die is her brother. She can't exactly go down to the restaurant and cheer with the rest of the locals watching CNN, now can she? And furthermore, who really knows what's going on down there in Cuba? The media is controlled by the Communist Party, and for all the world knows, Fidel could have already died and that the news of his surviving the surgery is all cover crap. Besides, I don't know what they are all getting so excited about. Dead or not, Fidel put his brother Raul in charge, and that guy is probably an even bigger asshole. Yeah- I personally think Fidel is finished, dead, kaput, bye-bye. I wonder if his sister will attend his funeral? Zoo - Salted and Roasted ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
When I'm waiting, I'm like a self-sabotaging spider, fretfully weaving weaving weaving and promptly forgetting which strands are for walking on, and which ones are for getting tangled up in. I'm tripping over myself, and getting caught up in my own sticky thoughts, ranging from grinding, stomach-churning thoughts of self-doubt vs. fulfillment, to excitement, back to indifference when the call doesn't come, and there is still no firm offer approaching my snare. weave-weave. spin-spin. It does no good to stay this close to my thoughts, waiting for the sweet fat fly, or the big juicy hobbit to wander by. I've already calculated a million times over what the correct response would be to the first offer and how I should negotiate my way to happiness. The homework and the mental work is already done, but it seems the agonizing will continue into today, at least today. I don't like the waiting. I should just let myself slowly down on a silken strand this morning, lower myself to the forest floor, skitter away from this and leave it all behind today. I should put it out of my mind, and take a walk in the cool forest where the sweet grass grows for the hungry rabbits, and stubborn patches of fog drift through slanting columns of morning sunlight. Later, when I come back refreshed, I can check my web to see what I caught. He wants an answer by tomorrow, but I wanted a firm offer in writing by yesterday. I still haven't gotten it. Maybe they're thinking twice. weave-weave-weave spin-spin Zoo - Salted and Roasted ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| I'm tired and I feel unplugged from myself today. Probably becuase I stayed up too late last night grinding the gears in my brain cells over the new job prospect. I thought that today the man was going to give me something in writing; a firm salary, a list of the benefits and requirements that go with the job, etc., but so far, I haven't heard a word. Somebody left the refrigerator door open to my brain all night, and all my good thoughts and positive energy drifted out and away into the humid night. Stephie is a little better today. We picked up her clarinet yesterday, and she tried to play it a little, without very much luck. She was upset with herself that she couldn't blow a single note out of it, and went and threw herself on her bed. I went in and told her that she really shouldn't be so hard on herself. She's been puking for the last day or so, and she's probably very weakened by the whole thing. Of course she doesn't have the energy or the fortitude to squeeze a note out of the clarinet. She's so dramatic. Later on, she WAS able to force out a note or two, so maybe she'll get the idea that it's not supposed to be easy. If it were, then everybody and their mother would play the clarinet. I reminded her that when she went to the school to try out, the clarinet instructor-guy told her exactly how to hold her mouth, how much reed to shove in her mouth, etc,. With his instruction she was able to make a long sustained note just fine. She'll be able to do it again, she just needs to be patient and work at it. Getting healthy first might help, too- sheeesh- she must be running almost entirely on empty after yakking her guts up 13 times the day before. I hope I'm wrong about this, but sometimes I think that her mindset believes that she should be automatically good at things like the clarinet and that it shouldn't be hard to play, and if it is, it's not worth the effort. She strikes me as an "I want it now," kind of person. I hope she sticks with band actually, because those notes that she did play sounded good. I love the sound of a woodwind. *toot* And now I'm going home, without having heard from the man that was supposed to make me an offer today, so I can think about it again all night, and wonder what the price will be, and if the price is right. .... and again I say unto thee, "toot! Toot thy clarinet and be happy!" ... or just "toot". I don't care. I'm physically and mentally unplugged, trying to conserve electricity. Zoo - Salted and Roasted ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
So, I guess it's Wednesday already. I must have lost track for some reason. I just had an entire discussion with the front desk receptionist about how it was only Tuesday, but that we could pretend it was Wednesday if we really wanted to. Wednesday? What a stupid name. The names that are assigned to each day of the week have always freaked me out a little bit. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday. Where did the world come up with these names? Now, I suppose that in this age of the google, I could find out why we named them what we did pretty quickly, but that would be no fun. I much prefer to live in darkness and wonder about it. Same thing with some city names. Like Philadelphia, Miami, Albany, and Dallas. Who thought these things up? They don't sound like the names of Kings or Queens or dead Presidents, or native american indians to me. So, who are they named after and why? Again, I don't want to google this and spoil the mystery in my mind. I'll just pretend that our forefathers were on crack, had no idea what the hell they were doing and just leave it at that. Oh yeah. That's considerably more fun than researching the answer and becoming informed. Zoo - Salted and Roasted ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you the following... I'm supposed to be given something in writing today, something with firm figures and a list of bennies that I can study, something to bring home and talk to Marv about, a formal "offer" so to speak. Last week's apprehension has given way to excitement. I'm looking forward to ripping up the st. augustine and laying down this new bermuda that has fallen in my lap. Marv and I talked about this last night, and we are a little in awe of the way everything has shifted and changed in compliment to one another. Marv gets a new flexible position, one where she can probably be on WDC during the day, more than ever before, and I get a new position, one where I probably cannot be on during the day. Funny how I've been treading water now in my current job for the last 8 years, with no room to advance, and plenty of trepidation about the longevity of my job, and suddenly, out of the blue, I am offerred this chance to make a step up. It couldn't have come at a better time. We have a need for a third car to park in the driveway, and bam! I get a company car. Zach will now have to learn how to drive a manual transmission, but I think he's up for it. Marv and I believe that all this is meant to be, and that I'd be crazy not to accept the position if the price is right. Just like she would have been nuts not to accept her promotion a few months back. We had a late night family meeting when Zach got off work last night. We wanted to let the kids know what was going on, and that the likelihood of my taking the job was pretty high, and how that would affect the family overall. Of course, they were interested to know if my good fortune meant we were going to get cable TV now. We wisely didn't answer that one. Stephie asked if she was going to get a blackberry wireless, too. Silly girl. I think she was serious. I think everyone is relatively okay with the idea that I won't be home every night of the week like I am now, but this is going to be a big shift for all of us, and it's happening right at the same time as the new school year. I made sure to tell everyone last night that we need to continue to work like a team. Just like when we bought the house and the kids enrolled at BISD four years ago, we all have to support each other, work together and try to be as flexible as possible. Zach has had a big summer, driving and working, and now he has to switch gears again and juggle school AND work AND bussing Stephanie around occasionally. That's going to be very different from last year. Stephanie has had a big summer, too. She's been taking voice lessons, and will continue as long as she wants to keep it up. She will also begin what hopefully will be the first of six years playing clarinet in the band. Her school year is going to be quite a bit busier and different than what she is used to. Marv's work-life and home-life will be all screwed up, too, but only in the sense that it will be a complete 180 from what she has been used to. More of the day to day responsibilities of homework and pet stuff will fall on her shoulders now, simply because I won't be home some nights. She'll be fine, though, once she gets used to it. Besides, I'll never be more than a few hours from home, and on the nights when I am not home, I'll probably be bored to tears in whatever hotel/motel/Holiday Inn I'm staying at, only a phone call away. These are big changes for all of us, yes, but I hope I stressed the keys to success last night so that everyone is on the same page. The fact is, we don't have any idea what is in store for us this year. Everything will be different from what we are used to. But we'll figure this out and make it work, because we love and support one another, and because we CAN and DO work as a team to make sure our lives roll along smoothly from day to day. That's the secret to making it work, I think. Roll with the punches, cooperate, be flexible and support each other. As for WDC, I'll still be here, just not so much during the day. You guys won't ever be able to get rid of me, so don't even go there. It's going to be an interesting year, that's for sure. I'm looking forward to sharing some stories of the road, too. ... and now, back to those stupid "morning judge shows" that you were so glued to. Zoo - Salted and Roasted ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
When opportunity knocks like this, I'd like to think I have the cajones to make the change without apprehension, but that's foolish. Change is unsettling, even when it's positive change. What do I have to gain? What do I have to lose? Who am I to even question it? I don't want to neglect my writing. Not now. Not ever. Especially not after everything I've learned here. I've become very accustomed to logging in here in the mornings while I'm perusing accounting reports and answering phone calls. It's a routine that I am very entrenched in, and very comfortable with. Sometimes I throw down two and three journal entries per day, which invariably lead to even more writing, more poetry- ahhh the poetry- good progress has been made here, and this is one rut that I don't want to fall out of. If I take this new job, I'll be on the road all day instead of crusing my cubicle in my rolling chair. Where will I find time to journal or write? At night, at home? On the weekends? On the road in the hotel? I got that phone call this morning, finally. After talking to the man, I'm seriously thinking about doing this. All my agonizing over the years about the low ceiling in my current position can finally be laid to rest. I would finally have room to grow and make more money, and gain different work experiences to pad my future. I almost have to do this. Even if I hate the work (and I don't think I will), I can't be selfish about what this could mean to the rest of the family. I gotta talk to Marv about this. But right now, my stomach is trying to eat itself. Lunch. Zoo - Salted and Roasted ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| The glasses were found, not 3 feet away from where she was standing when they disappeared, effectively ruining our little mystery. I'm glad she found them, but it puts a decided damper our little twilight zone saga we had going on. It was tons more fun speculating about what happened to them, then it is wondering why nobody saw them lying there in the first place. When Marv said,"Ohh, and Gram found her glasses," I replied,"Dammit! Where?" Not because I was hoping they would never show up, but more because I can't believe I didn't find them during my hour long search, sweating my ass off on Sunday afternoon. I was so sure I would find them, considering my considerable and noteworthy prowess in finding those things which appear to be lost. "... it appears to be lost" is kind of a contradictory statement, isn't it? Seems like it would be one or the other, but not both.  Found though they may be, nobody has any idea what the hell happened. Somehow, I overlooked them, or we all did, or the crow that borrowed them returned them in the middle of the night, or the nearsighted cat decided the prescription wasn't quite right, who knows? But in any case, the spectacles are back where they belong, sitting along the bridge of Gram's nose. There's a little mystery still left, because nobody knows how they disappeared in the first place, and now nobody knows how they found their way back. We didn't spend too much time wondering about it though, because there were other things to deal with yesterday. Namely, a puking Stephanie who started her vomitous behavior about 9:30 Sunday night, and didn't stop until 12 hours later and 13 trips to hover over the commode. The poor thing looked like death warmed over when we picked her up from Gram's last night. She's better today, and just back from the doctor's office. We also discovered that out of the 20 people that were at the little family gathering on Saturday, 5 of them fell victim to the same lovely syptoms that Stephanie did. We don't think it was food poisoning. Probably just a stomach virus that those insufferable Minnesotans brought down with them. Just kidding, Ray and Nancy! Gram somehow broke her big toe (we think), and Aunt Donna actually did break her foot in a fall on Sunday morning. What's with these people? Everyone is falling to pieces around me again. If they aren't hurling their guts up in the bathroom, their bones are snapping like pick up sticks. As for me, I just have a pesky little hangnail. It's okay. I'll be alright. Zoo - Salted and Roasted ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
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