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 |  Where am I going, and why am I in this handbasket? |
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Fair Warning: I've upped the rating on this blog. It is now set at GC. |
| Anyone out there a regular blood donor I'm the occasional donor. I hate to admit it, but I will give blood if it isn't too inconvenient for me to do so, and most of the time, it is. I used to give blood every year on Christmas Eve, but it turns out that I'm usually dehydrated at that time of year from swilling booze and long hours of shopping in overheated malls. Giving blood when you are dehydrated doesn't work too well. If I had an easier time donating, I'd probably be more inclined to make it a regular thing, but it seems there is always some minor if not intensely painful snafu in the blood letting donating process. In an attempt to lure me back into the fold, the Red Cross sent me an invitation to give blood at their new "Blood Donor Center" located convenient at the local shopping mall. The Fourth of July holiday is considered a high demand time for blood usage. In an effort to attract donors, the Red Cross is pulling out all the stops. They are offering a limited time "Give a Pint, Get a Gallon" promotion as a way to say "Thank you." If you donate a pint of blood, they will give you a $5 gas card along with all the juice and cookies you're conscience will allow you to pilfer. How's that for marketing? Seems that as a nation we've already demonstrated a commitment to shed blood for gas. |
| This is a crazy time of year at work. We are approaching the end of our fiscal year. That means deadlines, deadlines and more deadlines. It also means shucking off our fiscal conservatism to spend down loads of money. It is the nature of the beast. We spend a lot of the fiscal year waiting on our allocation, afraid to spend money because we don't know yet how much we'll have to spend. Finally we get some money, and after two rounds of "rebudget" we finally get a handle on what we've got to spend. Now, the race is on to spend it. It must be spent within designated categoricals by June 30th OR ELSE. "Or else" means that we won't get squat next year because we couldn't spend our allocation so obviously we don't need money.  The system sucks, and we end up throwing money out to anyone who can promise to spend it. That's right folks. I'm talking about your tax dollars. Sorry, but this ridiculousness is built into the system. The stupidity of it is that the money can't be used to pay bonuses to underpaid direct care workers. Nope. We tried it. Anyway, we're getting punchy at work, and I've come to some important conclusions. 1. People go into social services because they can't do math. Seriously, if a program runs seven hours a day, and is billed in 15 minute units of service, is it really that hard to figure out that 7x4=28 units. Apparently the answer is yes. 2. Stressed out people have little appreciation of sarcasm. 3. Next year I should plan a vacation for the last two weeks of June. 4. Fire alarms are fun. Being asked to complete a post fire alarm survey rating the over-all evacuation experience is a pain in the ass! 5. This is my new favorite song.  Another FU Song . . . http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OvEdQrONP9I |
| I'm going to hell in a handbasket. This, I realize, isn't news. What surprises me is the number of you who are along for the ride. Turns out I'm picking up stow-a-ways. I must admit, the ride is better for the company, but If my handbasket gets any fuller, I'm gonna have to start pitching people out. Yeah, the road to hell isn't paved with good intentions. It is paved with the bodies of those who "fell" out of my handbasket en route.  Remember boys and girls, seatbelts save lives. |
| My self-righteous indignation has lost its edge as I've now committed a myriad of lesser crimes acting out my hurt and anger. Isn't that the way? The validity of my original complaint is now muddied by every inconsiderate and spiteful thing that has occurred over the past two weeks. My life is snowballing out of control. We were invited to his mother's for Father's Day dinner. I didn't want to go, and after spending the last two weekends home alone with the kids, I'm feeling very entitled to dictate this weekends activities. So I told him, "I'm not going to go. I'd like to stay home." "I'm sure you would," he said, "but this isn't about you. This is Father's Day . . . MY DAY . , , and I would like us all to go to my mother's." I was unimpressed. So I'm at home. He took the boy-child and went to his Mom's. My daughter, seeing an opportunity in my refusal, decided that she didn't want to go either. I'm feeling guilty, angry, resentful . . . you name it. I could go on, but I won't. On Friday my mother and I went down to Longwood Gardens outside of Philly. It was absolutely beautiful, and I had a good time. The Conservatory there was amazing. I took a ton of pictures, and might eventually get them all downloaded. For now, here is a picture of some cacti in the conservatory. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** I think I understand now why they call it Longwood Gardens. |
| Sometimes the wrong word just pops into my head. Unfortunately, sometimes it pops right out of my mouth. Such was the case today. The problem today was that I continued to insist that it was the RIGHT word. We were at work. One of the case managers just returned from maternity leave this week, and so we were talking about babies. I don't know exactly how the question came up, but it did. What is the soft spot on a baby's head called? Faa . . . Faaa . . . Frenulum! Yep, that's it. I said it with absolute conviction. The new mother looked a bit skeptical. It didn't sound right to her. Didn't sound right to Trish either, and she listens to NPR, so she knows things. I decided to Google my word to prove my correctness. Uh . . . didn't happen. I could have saved myself a lot of embarrassment by Googling it first. Yeah, the word I was looking for was "fontanel." The frenulum is a sensitive spot on an entirely different sort of head. Go ahead and Google it yourself.  Of course, I had to admit my mistake so that people would quit talking about frenulums in the office. They all had a good laugh at my expense, but I didn't mind too much. Tensions have been high in the office and laughter is a great stress reducer. Besides, I think they were all secretly impressed that I had "frenulum" on the tip of my tongue. |
My son tells me that I should call him Huggy Wigglebottom because he climbs onto my lap to give me hugs, and then wiggles around like he's got ant's in his pants until I make him get down. We'll see what he thinks of the name when he turns 16!  The name, and not the child, inspired this limerick. His name was Huggy Wigglebottom Those that met him, never forgot im'. He has rosy, round cheeks and laughs when he speaks 'bout the gals who'll line up to swat im'. Any hoo . . . The tree people came. Now the fallen tree, and the broken remains are sporting florescent orange paint markings. I guess that's good because I wouldn't want them to take down the wrong tree by mistake. Finally, I think Tony has been ruminating on my accusations that he isn't supportive of me. Yesterday he told me that he was using his flashdrive and came across my NaNo novel. He told me that he still thinks it is wonderful and he wanted me to promise that I would finish it this summer. Uh huh . . . in all my free time, right? I don't think he understands that being supportive requires something more than saying "you should really finish writing the book." |
| It is intensely humid outside, and I am amazed at my good fortune in getting the air conditioning installed ahead of this oppressive heat! I tried to spend some quiet time in the garden this evening. The roses are blooming heavily now, and I hate to think I might miss them while hiding in the air conditioned indoors. I know all too well that the Japanese beetles will beset the roses soon, and I must enjoy them while I can. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** The photo doesn't truly capture the luminescence of the white flowers against the misty haze of evening, but it shows off the misty haze pretty well Tony has returned from his trip, but he is not home. He is teaching his regular Monday class. He offered to skip it, and I'm sure he would have if I'd asked, but I didn't feel the need. I'm finding myself increasingly indifferent about his presence or absence. When he is here, I'm glad enough because he is a diversion for our son, and I, in turn, get a break from the constant barrage of Zack. The boy-child has been especially intense in his neediness with the school year ending, and changes looming in his life. He doesn't deal well with changes in his routine. Even happy ones. What I crave now, above all else, is a bit of solitude. |
| Would someone please explain this one to me? What is good about crying? I don't get it. You can be sure that if I'm crying, I'm also trying desperately to STOP crying. Crying gives me a headache, puffy eyes, and a runny nose. So, on top of being an emotional basket case, I now get to look and feel like shit too. What's good about that? What does it accomplish? I hate crying. It ranks right up there with puking except that usually I DO feel a little bit better after throwing up especially if I manage to throw-up the jell-o shots that really weren't such a good idea in the first place. There's not always room for Jell-o. Because I don't like to cry, I don't watch weepy movies. I have a low thresh-hold for heartache . . . unless it is funny! Spare me the good cry. What I need is a good laugh!  |
| Just to set the record straight. I have a big stick, and I ain't afraid of nuttin'. Alright, so the stick isn't really mine. I just borrowed it from Deb and it's kind of broken because Dee grabbed a chunk for herself. So there's a life lesson for ya . . . Never trust a karaoke whore with your stick! Yeah but I'm still fearless . . . as long as there aren't any mice around. Moving on . . . Today we were whining about gas prices at work and I had this brilliant idea. Why not just bike to work? Another friend who lives near me says she'd do it if she had someone to ride with. She's the type that can't even go to the bathroom by herself. So we came up with a meeting place and we are going to start Tuesday morning. I'd start on Monday, but Tony is NOT coming back on Sunday as planned, but is staying over until Monday (See! This is why I need a big stick!  ). That means I have to get the boy-child on the bus because they are still in school for another week. That doesn't leave me enough time to bike to work, so Tuesday it is . . . hope it doesn't rain!Our co-workers don't believe this is gonna happen, but now that I'm setting it out here in writing, y'all know I'm gonna follow through, right? Damn straight! Besides, I hit the trip odometer today and it's only 2.1 miles from my driveway to my parking space. Since I normal drive home for lunch, that is 8.4 miles per day. Multiply that by 5 days and I'm driving 42 miles per week. That probably equates to about 2 gallons of gas since it is stop and go and I'm usually blasting the AC. At $4 a gallon (and we know that's going to go up) it is costing me $8 a week to commute. So if I ride my bike to and from work for the next 12 weeks (excluding days that are too hot or too rainy) I could save $96! Woohoo! That'll buy a lot of Magaritas! |
| I'm magical. There can't be any other explanation. The AC guys are continuing their diligent efforts to get everything done before the weekend heat wave. The other morning, they were cutting the holes in the floor for the registers while I was getting ready for work. I walked into the living room, and as is my habit, I was putting in my earrings while looking out the front window. I dropped one of the earrings. This would not have been a problem except five minutes ago they'd install a register under the window. Of course the earring fell right into it. It was loud enough that the AC guy looked over and smiled. "It wasn't me," he said. "Shit! I just dropped my earring down the vent." "You've gotta be kidding," he said. "That's gotta be some kind of record!" "It won't make problems for you will it? "No," he said. "It's not even connected to the duct yet, the earring'll be laying around downstairs if you wanna go look for it." "I'll just get a different pair." When I came home at lunchtime, the AC guy explained in great detail where they planned to cut holes for the returns. "I don't wanna cut holes yet because I don't have the grates, and I don't wanna leave big open holes in your floor." "I worried you with the earring thing, didn't I?" He broke into a big grin and shook his head at me. "I've never seen anything like it. It was like magic." So there you go. I'm magical. |
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