I know the common theme for blogs today will be the year in review. I've read quite a few already and remember writing some myself in years prior. I have no interest in dong that today, however. I'm not sure why.
All I will say is that I can firmly state that I am happier writing to you from my couch today than I was on Dec. 31, 2006. 2007 has brought some extraordinary ups and downs but, perhaps more than any other time in my life, I feel like I am in a better place than I was a year ago.
As has become a favorite phrase of mine in the last 6 months, I've exercised a lot of haters in my life. I can't recommend that enough, by the way. Removing the negative people, and removing any sense of obligation you feel to them, is aces. Look into it.
I've also just taken a lot more control, including control of my emotions. Sure, I still cry like a little girl at any variety of scenarios, but I'm doing a better job of leaving work at work and trying to cope with my stress and responsibilities in a healthier manner. Don't get me wrong.. I still fall off the wagon from time to time, but I usually recover before I've hit the ground. That's really all that matters.
Successfully keeping up this blog was a major goal of mine for the year, and I feel I achieved it. I have no doubt many of you would disagree, but given the demands of my work life I think I've done a pretty bang up job. I want to thank you for the support and encouragement many of you have given me regarding this silly little collection over the year. You've made me feel talented, witty and intelligent, and that's a true gift.
In looking to the year ahead, I must say it's filled with some of the greatest uncertainty since I entered 2000, and was embarking on my last semester of college. I do hope to have some constants, and they know who they are, but the possibilities remain somewhat endless as to where I'll be in 6 months, what I'll be doing, etc. Maybe I'll even finally get a hair cut. Who knows?!?!
Either way, I hope to continue to take you on the ride with me, and I hope to be able to share some exciting new adventures on the way. My big goal for the year will be to perform on some sort of stage. I feel it in me. Please do stay tuned.
Monday, December 31, 2007
On things that are worth the wait...
You may or may not have uncovered the fact that I am a Daddy's Girl. My father is my hero, has sacrificed everything for my success and is my number one fan. It's my father's attention, and that alone, that allows you to accurately describe me as a spoiled only child.
You'll recall that one of the many successes of 2007 was that I finally bought a car. At 29 years of age, I have my first set of wheels. I am still in love with my new found identity as someone who can get herself, thank you very much, from point A to point B. It turns out that my dad is just as in love with this new identity as I am.
My holiday trip home was blissfully uneventful in terms of weather, at least on the traveling end of things. The night before we left for the return drive, however, brought about a wintry mix that left its impression on all of the cars in the parking lot at my dad's apartment building. When I came out the following morning to pack the car, I noticed my car was the only one parked without any snow on it. My dad, clearly, had made a point of clearing it off before he went to work at the God awful hour of 5:30 am.
When I called to tell him we were taking off, I thanked him for the gesture. "That was so sweet of you, Dad!" "Are you kidding," he responded, "I've been waiting to do that for you for a really long time!"
It really is the little things that make you feel loved. I'm the luckiest daughter in the world.
You'll recall that one of the many successes of 2007 was that I finally bought a car. At 29 years of age, I have my first set of wheels. I am still in love with my new found identity as someone who can get herself, thank you very much, from point A to point B. It turns out that my dad is just as in love with this new identity as I am.
My holiday trip home was blissfully uneventful in terms of weather, at least on the traveling end of things. The night before we left for the return drive, however, brought about a wintry mix that left its impression on all of the cars in the parking lot at my dad's apartment building. When I came out the following morning to pack the car, I noticed my car was the only one parked without any snow on it. My dad, clearly, had made a point of clearing it off before he went to work at the God awful hour of 5:30 am.
When I called to tell him we were taking off, I thanked him for the gesture. "That was so sweet of you, Dad!" "Are you kidding," he responded, "I've been waiting to do that for you for a really long time!"
It really is the little things that make you feel loved. I'm the luckiest daughter in the world.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
On "Why I oughta..."
So I've got this thing about being on time. If I'm late for anything, it stresses me out. Even if it's by a minute or two, I get the shakes. I've simply been taught to equate timeliness with courtesy and respect.. it's as simple as that. So, yes, I'm often early. Of course, all that results in are the tardy people in my life seeming even later than they actually are.
One area in which I cannot release this pet peeve is meetings. I have a few staff members who are constantly late to meetings, to the point where I simply feel they operate on a clock that is set 15 minutes later than the rest of the world's. I've tried to let it go as much as possible; after all, in the grand scheme of things, if people do their jobs well, what does it really matter?
Except for today.
I have a weekly 11 am staff meeting. Every week. Always at 11 am. Always in a room outside of our own building.
Every week, some little group is late. It's irritating as hell, particularly when space is at a premium and you can count on being kicked out of your room if you go over your time. But today. Today NO ONE was there at 11 am.
A few shuffled in at 11:03 .. the rest came in within another 10 minute window.
I get that shit happens. But this was unacceptable to me.
I ran a short and productive meeting. We left. But I couldn't let it go. It's hard to walk the fine line of being the easy going likeable boss (what I've been going for), but still having everyone's respect.
So I wrote an e-mail. It went something like this:
I couldn't ignore the fact that everyone was late to today's staff meeting. Yes, some were late by just two minutes, but no one was there by the traditional start time of 11 am.
I know there are a variety of completely understandable reasons for being late, today was no exception given other meetings and important phone calls that go over time, but, in the spirit of the new year, I'd like to ask that everyone simply make a greater effort to make it to staff meeting on time. While this was the first week everyone was late, in the past there have always been groups wandering in after 11. I know staff meeting is not everyone's favorite and I recognize it's a pain in the neck to have to leave the building for a meeting, particularly in cold weather, but I appreciate, in advance, your understanding, courtesy and respect.
As you know, space is a premium on campus and we have been kicked out of our meeting room at times for going over. Always remember, the sooner we start the meeting, the quicker it ends.
Thank you again for your hard work this year and enjoy some well deserved time off next week.
I received two responses, immediately, essentially saying "You go girl!"
Of course, they were from two people who are always late. One even said, "Thanks for taking the unpopular opinion and running a tight ship!" While I appreciate and need the support, I feel like writing back, "And thank YOU for taking advantage of my non-confrontational and easygoing self for the past year and a half!"
I swear, I just can't win.
One area in which I cannot release this pet peeve is meetings. I have a few staff members who are constantly late to meetings, to the point where I simply feel they operate on a clock that is set 15 minutes later than the rest of the world's. I've tried to let it go as much as possible; after all, in the grand scheme of things, if people do their jobs well, what does it really matter?
Except for today.
I have a weekly 11 am staff meeting. Every week. Always at 11 am. Always in a room outside of our own building.
Every week, some little group is late. It's irritating as hell, particularly when space is at a premium and you can count on being kicked out of your room if you go over your time. But today. Today NO ONE was there at 11 am.
A few shuffled in at 11:03 .. the rest came in within another 10 minute window.
I get that shit happens. But this was unacceptable to me.
I ran a short and productive meeting. We left. But I couldn't let it go. It's hard to walk the fine line of being the easy going likeable boss (what I've been going for), but still having everyone's respect.
So I wrote an e-mail. It went something like this:
I couldn't ignore the fact that everyone was late to today's staff meeting. Yes, some were late by just two minutes, but no one was there by the traditional start time of 11 am.
I know there are a variety of completely understandable reasons for being late, today was no exception given other meetings and important phone calls that go over time, but, in the spirit of the new year, I'd like to ask that everyone simply make a greater effort to make it to staff meeting on time. While this was the first week everyone was late, in the past there have always been groups wandering in after 11. I know staff meeting is not everyone's favorite and I recognize it's a pain in the neck to have to leave the building for a meeting, particularly in cold weather, but I appreciate, in advance, your understanding, courtesy and respect.
As you know, space is a premium on campus and we have been kicked out of our meeting room at times for going over. Always remember, the sooner we start the meeting, the quicker it ends.
Thank you again for your hard work this year and enjoy some well deserved time off next week.
I received two responses, immediately, essentially saying "You go girl!"
Of course, they were from two people who are always late. One even said, "Thanks for taking the unpopular opinion and running a tight ship!" While I appreciate and need the support, I feel like writing back, "And thank YOU for taking advantage of my non-confrontational and easygoing self for the past year and a half!"
I swear, I just can't win.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
On the cost of Christmas...
I had a conversation with a co-worker this week about getting away from the true spirit of Christmas. Every once in a while, I think we'd really be very well served if Linus emerged from the sky, blanket in hand, saying "Lights, please!" and reminded us of what the holiday season is all about. Even if religion isn't your thing, it's important to remember this is the season to be grateful for what you have, particularly as it relates to people - family and friends.
I've been keeping a spreadsheet for the past two Christmases that records who I've bought for and what I've bought them. In addition to keeping me organized, it forces an "Equalizer" eye on my gift giving. Particularly for people at work, I don't want to go overboard on one and not enough on the other.
See, I've already gotten away from the spirit of the holidays with that very philosophy.
Of course, this is all just an elaborate set up to inform you that I purchased 114 presents this year. No, I'm not joking. 114 presents for 35 people. Granted, most of these gifts were of the $1 variety, placing themselves in gift bags I put together for the 19 people at work I felt compelled to by for (go Target with $1 ornaments and Mrs. Fields chocolates!!!). But, still. Methinks I've gone a wee bit overboard.
I feel like I could have been "done" with shopping a few times by now, but the problem with starting too early is that you simply have too much time to talk yourself into that one additional gift for someone.
The thing is, no one is spoiled this year. I wish they were, but they are not. This does, however, serve as a true wake up call that next year make require even more creativity on the job front.
Of course, I just realized that 114 doesn't even include the stocking stuffers I've purchased. Yikes.
I've been keeping a spreadsheet for the past two Christmases that records who I've bought for and what I've bought them. In addition to keeping me organized, it forces an "Equalizer" eye on my gift giving. Particularly for people at work, I don't want to go overboard on one and not enough on the other.
See, I've already gotten away from the spirit of the holidays with that very philosophy.
Of course, this is all just an elaborate set up to inform you that I purchased 114 presents this year. No, I'm not joking. 114 presents for 35 people. Granted, most of these gifts were of the $1 variety, placing themselves in gift bags I put together for the 19 people at work I felt compelled to by for (go Target with $1 ornaments and Mrs. Fields chocolates!!!). But, still. Methinks I've gone a wee bit overboard.
I feel like I could have been "done" with shopping a few times by now, but the problem with starting too early is that you simply have too much time to talk yourself into that one additional gift for someone.
The thing is, no one is spoiled this year. I wish they were, but they are not. This does, however, serve as a true wake up call that next year make require even more creativity on the job front.
Of course, I just realized that 114 doesn't even include the stocking stuffers I've purchased. Yikes.
On the cost of parking....
You should know, first of all, that I have a fantastic driving record. Certain haters in my life (ok, not really haters, but reality obsessors) would clarify by saying I never owned a car until this year. Hey, cut me some slack. I've done my fair share of driving and, if you're reading this blog, likely in your car. Aren't you happy I've behaved myself while within its confines?
Friday night brought forth my first parking ticket. Yes, at 29 years old I got my first parking ticket. And don't get me wrong, I knew it was too good to be true, but I'm easily confused by signs that say "No Standing" instead of "No Parking", particularly when there is a meter RIGHT THERE. And, of course, I had my co-worker, who does not own a car, scope out the meter to make sure we were ok. (We were decidedly not but it, too, was unclear to her undriving self).
So I emerged from our office Festivus themed happy hour where, in the spirit of being a good boss, I threw down an extra $20 to take care of the first round of beers. Too bad, I could really need it now. When I saw the ticket, I was decidedly bummed, but it wasn't until I realized the amount that I was offended.
$100 for a parking ticket! Can you believe it? But, as my boyfriend astutely pointed out, they have to make the parking fines unreasonable,otherwise no one is going to pay for a garage.
I'm simply grateful that I have another month to pay it. With Christmas in full swing, that kind of money just isn't at my fingertips (see blog above). And might I also take this moment to wish the meter maid mafia a joyous holiday season.
Friday night brought forth my first parking ticket. Yes, at 29 years old I got my first parking ticket. And don't get me wrong, I knew it was too good to be true, but I'm easily confused by signs that say "No Standing" instead of "No Parking", particularly when there is a meter RIGHT THERE. And, of course, I had my co-worker, who does not own a car, scope out the meter to make sure we were ok. (We were decidedly not but it, too, was unclear to her undriving self).
So I emerged from our office Festivus themed happy hour where, in the spirit of being a good boss, I threw down an extra $20 to take care of the first round of beers. Too bad, I could really need it now. When I saw the ticket, I was decidedly bummed, but it wasn't until I realized the amount that I was offended.
$100 for a parking ticket! Can you believe it? But, as my boyfriend astutely pointed out, they have to make the parking fines unreasonable,otherwise no one is going to pay for a garage.
I'm simply grateful that I have another month to pay it. With Christmas in full swing, that kind of money just isn't at my fingertips (see blog above). And might I also take this moment to wish the meter maid mafia a joyous holiday season.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
On the reason for the season...
I'm very grateful tonight. For friends, for family, for love, for life, for health, for a wardrobe full of henley waffle shirts and fleece.
But more than that, I'm grateful to Jessica Alba for getting pregnant. I want to thank her for acknowledging her perfection was not fair to the rest of us, and it was about time she got fat.
Way to take one for the team, J. You're aces in my book.
But more than that, I'm grateful to Jessica Alba for getting pregnant. I want to thank her for acknowledging her perfection was not fair to the rest of us, and it was about time she got fat.
Way to take one for the team, J. You're aces in my book.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
On "WHY ARE YOU RUINING MY LIFE?"
My only child is showing...
I go home about once a year now.. at Christmas. Maine just isn't an easy place to get to. Summer is the ideal time for a second visit, but with a move this year I just couldn't make it work. So I know, at the very least, I'll get home for Christmas and to, what I hope, are some things I can rely on.
This Christmas is particularly special as my boyfriend is coming home with me. I can't tell you how angst ridden I've been about his missing Christmas with his own family for us. I missed Christmas at home a few years ago under different circumstances and it just didn't feel right. I couldn't be more appreciative or excited to have him with me. I've also continually sweetened the deal by reminding him that Christmas at home means lobster on Christmas Eve at my mom's place.. it's tradition.
Christmas Eve has always been spent with my mother, and we always have lobster, play Christmas music, and open gifts from our crazy relatives in California. Having my guy share in this tradition means a lot to me.
I guess she had something else in mind.
I got an e-mail from her this morning saying she wanted to give us whatever flexibility we needed, but Christmas Eve would be spent at her best friend's house. "We've never gotten to do this before, so I think it's important."
Insert my all star hissy fit.
I am LIVID. No, I'm not exaggerating. I've shed tears and I stomped all over my apartment this morning (sorry, downstairs neighbor). I've even consulted a few colleagues to see if I'm crazy - a resounding, "No you're not crazy, this is bullshit," came from all three.
Don't get me wrong, I adore my mother's best friend. She's a second mom to me and I love when she and her family stop by Christmas Eve, post-lobster and presents. My mother also spends all of Christmas Day over with this same best friend and her best friend's very large family, for which I'm also grateful, as Christmas Day is spent with my father and his side of the family.
This may come off as spoiled, but I don't care. I am absolutely devastated that our tradition is being sacrficed for no good reason at all. I'm actually having trouble focusing.
I wrote back and expressed my disappointment. Indicating it's all we'd been looking forward to. I softened it with "is there anyway we can do lobster another night I'm home?", to which she simply replied. "Of course! That was my plan all along!"
Still, it's not enough for me.
I wrote her back pleading was there anyway we could stick to our tradition and expressing my sadness.
Perhaps this all seems very dramatic to you but, again, as I get older, there are fewer and fewer things I can rely on. Fewer things that give me the warm and fuzzies. And, given a somewhat challenged past with my mom, I can't help but feel I'm being robbed of one of the truly special things we share, and during an incredibly important occasion - the holidays and my boyfriend, who I intend to be with as long as he'll have me, being there.
I, of course, can't help but feel she's being incredibly selfish and can't help but wonder if she's sticking it to me or simply doesn't care and wants to do her own thing. But I think it's wrong. I think the holidays are about your kids. If I have kids, you can bet your ass it will be about what makes it special for them.
The holidays also seem to bring out the very worst in us, and I'm wondering if I'm experiencing that right now. But I just don't understand why she'd do this without talking to me (likely b/c she would know my reaction) or put aside one of the few happy, special things we still share as mother and daughter.
Pardon me while I slam my bedroom door and turn up the New Kids on the Block.
I go home about once a year now.. at Christmas. Maine just isn't an easy place to get to. Summer is the ideal time for a second visit, but with a move this year I just couldn't make it work. So I know, at the very least, I'll get home for Christmas and to, what I hope, are some things I can rely on.
This Christmas is particularly special as my boyfriend is coming home with me. I can't tell you how angst ridden I've been about his missing Christmas with his own family for us. I missed Christmas at home a few years ago under different circumstances and it just didn't feel right. I couldn't be more appreciative or excited to have him with me. I've also continually sweetened the deal by reminding him that Christmas at home means lobster on Christmas Eve at my mom's place.. it's tradition.
Christmas Eve has always been spent with my mother, and we always have lobster, play Christmas music, and open gifts from our crazy relatives in California. Having my guy share in this tradition means a lot to me.
I guess she had something else in mind.
I got an e-mail from her this morning saying she wanted to give us whatever flexibility we needed, but Christmas Eve would be spent at her best friend's house. "We've never gotten to do this before, so I think it's important."
Insert my all star hissy fit.
I am LIVID. No, I'm not exaggerating. I've shed tears and I stomped all over my apartment this morning (sorry, downstairs neighbor). I've even consulted a few colleagues to see if I'm crazy - a resounding, "No you're not crazy, this is bullshit," came from all three.
Don't get me wrong, I adore my mother's best friend. She's a second mom to me and I love when she and her family stop by Christmas Eve, post-lobster and presents. My mother also spends all of Christmas Day over with this same best friend and her best friend's very large family, for which I'm also grateful, as Christmas Day is spent with my father and his side of the family.
This may come off as spoiled, but I don't care. I am absolutely devastated that our tradition is being sacrficed for no good reason at all. I'm actually having trouble focusing.
I wrote back and expressed my disappointment. Indicating it's all we'd been looking forward to. I softened it with "is there anyway we can do lobster another night I'm home?", to which she simply replied. "Of course! That was my plan all along!"
Still, it's not enough for me.
I wrote her back pleading was there anyway we could stick to our tradition and expressing my sadness.
Perhaps this all seems very dramatic to you but, again, as I get older, there are fewer and fewer things I can rely on. Fewer things that give me the warm and fuzzies. And, given a somewhat challenged past with my mom, I can't help but feel I'm being robbed of one of the truly special things we share, and during an incredibly important occasion - the holidays and my boyfriend, who I intend to be with as long as he'll have me, being there.
I, of course, can't help but feel she's being incredibly selfish and can't help but wonder if she's sticking it to me or simply doesn't care and wants to do her own thing. But I think it's wrong. I think the holidays are about your kids. If I have kids, you can bet your ass it will be about what makes it special for them.
The holidays also seem to bring out the very worst in us, and I'm wondering if I'm experiencing that right now. But I just don't understand why she'd do this without talking to me (likely b/c she would know my reaction) or put aside one of the few happy, special things we still share as mother and daughter.
Pardon me while I slam my bedroom door and turn up the New Kids on the Block.
Monday, December 10, 2007
On bringing it on...
Often I forget that I was a cheerleader.
No no no.. I don't mean that my high school days were so filled with popularity and partying that I can't keep it all straight. I think it's more that sometimes it's difficult to remember that I was a kid once, and that I bopped around the hallways of my high school on game days in my uniform, my ponytail flapping, and froze my butt off sitting in class seats with really just my briefs covering my rear.
How's that for a mental image? You were thinking Sandy from Grease the whole time until we got there, weren't you?
One of the women I supervise had a meeting with me this morning, and as we got through business and talked about her weekend, she shared the details of the cheering competition she attended this weekend. She's an assistant cheer coach at the high school where she was a cheerleader, herself, and I often find myself envious that she maintained such a connection and is able to still be involved.
What's great about this particular woman is that she, like me, is hard to peg as "cheerleader type". Despite my award winning good looks and beaming personality, people are often shocked I was a cheerleader. My colleague would fall into that boat as well.
So it's fun to have people walk by as we talk about the need to be fearless to stick a back tuck, and see our eyes light up at the thought of doing a routine on a springboard floor.
Being a cheerleader was one of the toughest things I ever did. People can laugh, but it requires a great deal of athleticism if you want to be any good at all, and mental toughness as well. Nothing like working your tail off the entire week on stunts and routines, only to get up in front of the crowd and have everyone immediately start making fun of you and your squadmates.
Honestly.
No no no.. I don't mean that my high school days were so filled with popularity and partying that I can't keep it all straight. I think it's more that sometimes it's difficult to remember that I was a kid once, and that I bopped around the hallways of my high school on game days in my uniform, my ponytail flapping, and froze my butt off sitting in class seats with really just my briefs covering my rear.
How's that for a mental image? You were thinking Sandy from Grease the whole time until we got there, weren't you?
One of the women I supervise had a meeting with me this morning, and as we got through business and talked about her weekend, she shared the details of the cheering competition she attended this weekend. She's an assistant cheer coach at the high school where she was a cheerleader, herself, and I often find myself envious that she maintained such a connection and is able to still be involved.
What's great about this particular woman is that she, like me, is hard to peg as "cheerleader type". Despite my award winning good looks and beaming personality, people are often shocked I was a cheerleader. My colleague would fall into that boat as well.
So it's fun to have people walk by as we talk about the need to be fearless to stick a back tuck, and see our eyes light up at the thought of doing a routine on a springboard floor.
Being a cheerleader was one of the toughest things I ever did. People can laugh, but it requires a great deal of athleticism if you want to be any good at all, and mental toughness as well. Nothing like working your tail off the entire week on stunts and routines, only to get up in front of the crowd and have everyone immediately start making fun of you and your squadmates.
Honestly.
On disappointment with the USPS
Rarely do I have much to say about stamps.
I shuffled over to The UPS Store on campus today to buy a few stamps for the first wave of holiday greeting cards we're sending out. Yes, I'm a bit late, I know. And, sadly, I have not made the special trip to the actual post office to get holiday themed stamps, so most card recipients will receive their holiday greetings via the Liberty Bell. There are worse things, I suppose. Christmas is a purely American holiday, right?
Anyway, the stamps available at The UPS Store were a nature series and, until I had already applied them to the cards and stuffed them in the mailbox, I did not realize just how in touch with nature they were..
USPS brings you.. the pollination series.
I can't believe I have steamy animal on flower action on my holiday cards.
Sorry, Grandma.
I shuffled over to The UPS Store on campus today to buy a few stamps for the first wave of holiday greeting cards we're sending out. Yes, I'm a bit late, I know. And, sadly, I have not made the special trip to the actual post office to get holiday themed stamps, so most card recipients will receive their holiday greetings via the Liberty Bell. There are worse things, I suppose. Christmas is a purely American holiday, right?
Anyway, the stamps available at The UPS Store were a nature series and, until I had already applied them to the cards and stuffed them in the mailbox, I did not realize just how in touch with nature they were..
USPS brings you.. the pollination series.
I can't believe I have steamy animal on flower action on my holiday cards.
Sorry, Grandma.
Friday, December 7, 2007
On loving where I'm from...
Though winter only recently hit here in DC, it's been raging for a while back in my home state of Maine. A week ago, my father walked out to his car in what he characterized as a pretty "pissah" snowfall, and took the shovel out of his car to dig the thing out. That's right. A shovel. In the car. It's how we roll back home.
He's had this shovel for about 15 years and, well, when he stuck it in the snowbank to tend to something else before putting it back in the trunk, he forgot about it and took off.
Poor little snow shovel was then abducted and no one has come forth with any details from the scene of the crime.
So Dad went shovel shopping the night before last. He made his way into one of the last remaining locally owned hardware stores in the area, one of the few who has survived the invasion of Lowe's and Home Depot. His theory is it's survived due to an incredible location and owners who are "crazy mother f*#(@!s." His quote, not mine.
He made his way into the store and took note of the display of shovels near the front counter. He stood there in his superlatively indecisive way, as he's done throughout my lifetime over the most mundane of decisions, picking one after another up, considering the weight of the handle, among other factors, and thinking about how much he really wanted to spend on an ugly shovel. The cashier at the counter then coughed.
"Sir?" a heavy set, unshaven older gentleman called to my father from behind the register.
My father turned around.
"You can hem and haw all you want but she's still gonna be pissed when she opens that up Christmas morning."
I love Maine.
He's had this shovel for about 15 years and, well, when he stuck it in the snowbank to tend to something else before putting it back in the trunk, he forgot about it and took off.
Poor little snow shovel was then abducted and no one has come forth with any details from the scene of the crime.
So Dad went shovel shopping the night before last. He made his way into one of the last remaining locally owned hardware stores in the area, one of the few who has survived the invasion of Lowe's and Home Depot. His theory is it's survived due to an incredible location and owners who are "crazy mother f*#(@!s." His quote, not mine.
He made his way into the store and took note of the display of shovels near the front counter. He stood there in his superlatively indecisive way, as he's done throughout my lifetime over the most mundane of decisions, picking one after another up, considering the weight of the handle, among other factors, and thinking about how much he really wanted to spend on an ugly shovel. The cashier at the counter then coughed.
"Sir?" a heavy set, unshaven older gentleman called to my father from behind the register.
My father turned around.
"You can hem and haw all you want but she's still gonna be pissed when she opens that up Christmas morning."
I love Maine.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
On flashbacks...
She always turned the morning news on the television as she dressed, listening to the background noise as she applied her make up and did her hair. She'd make a cup of decaf coffee as Joe Cupo delivered the weather report. I'd always wonder what the point of decaf was as I drowned my Cheerios lifesaver by individual lifesaver. I'd push my cat away as she tried to drink the milk leftover in the bowl.
I'd walk by the bathroom to get my backpack for school. There she was, completing the masterpiece. She always made a funny noise as she applied her foundation. She'd rub it in both of her palms and apply it like she was splashing her face with water. It was the rubbing it in that made the sound, since her lips were always parted just slightly as she did it. I can't pinpoint the sound, all I can tell you is it made me think too much about nostrils.
She always.. always.. used rollers. Her undone hair fell flat and limp, but, when done, it emerged so full and the auburn in her hair shone so brightly.
In the winter, she placed her dress shoes in a plastic bag, and put heavy cotton socks over her pantyhose or trouser socks. Her pants or long skirt always seemed to be black. "She needs to wear more color," I'd think, finding her wardrobe of beige, gray and black completely boring. She then slipped her foot into her LL Bean boots, her mucklucks, as she liked to refer to them, before walking out to the icy driveway. The plastic bag awaited her departure by the door.
Scarves, she loved scarves. She wore them prominently.
Black wool coat. Black gloves. Black hat.
I turned the TV on this morning and listened to the weather report as I dressed and did my hair and makeup. I prefer sponges for applying foundation. God that noise was so annoying. But I always.. always.. use rollers to do my hair. Only a curling iron if I'm feeling rebellious. Wow, I have more auburn in my hair that I realized, taking note of the comment a colleague made about the shade yesterday.
I slip on a dark gray sweater. I put my trouser socks on under my black dress pants. "I need to wear more color," I think aloud. My heavy cotton "Maine Lobster" socks make up the next layer. I slip on my black snow boots and place my black ballet flats in a Safeway bag. I place the bag by the door to make for easy grabbing on my way out.
I take the rollers out of my hair; volume emerges. I always look a bit like the housewife of a Texas oil tycoon at first. But my ne'er manicured, bitten fingernails betray that identity full stop.
A scarf. I need a scarf.
I turn off the TV and put on my dark wool coat. Hat. Gloves. On my way.
I walk down the hallway and approach the door to the building. I catch my reflection in the glass.
I see my mom.
I'd walk by the bathroom to get my backpack for school. There she was, completing the masterpiece. She always made a funny noise as she applied her foundation. She'd rub it in both of her palms and apply it like she was splashing her face with water. It was the rubbing it in that made the sound, since her lips were always parted just slightly as she did it. I can't pinpoint the sound, all I can tell you is it made me think too much about nostrils.
She always.. always.. used rollers. Her undone hair fell flat and limp, but, when done, it emerged so full and the auburn in her hair shone so brightly.
In the winter, she placed her dress shoes in a plastic bag, and put heavy cotton socks over her pantyhose or trouser socks. Her pants or long skirt always seemed to be black. "She needs to wear more color," I'd think, finding her wardrobe of beige, gray and black completely boring. She then slipped her foot into her LL Bean boots, her mucklucks, as she liked to refer to them, before walking out to the icy driveway. The plastic bag awaited her departure by the door.
Scarves, she loved scarves. She wore them prominently.
Black wool coat. Black gloves. Black hat.
I turned the TV on this morning and listened to the weather report as I dressed and did my hair and makeup. I prefer sponges for applying foundation. God that noise was so annoying. But I always.. always.. use rollers to do my hair. Only a curling iron if I'm feeling rebellious. Wow, I have more auburn in my hair that I realized, taking note of the comment a colleague made about the shade yesterday.
I slip on a dark gray sweater. I put my trouser socks on under my black dress pants. "I need to wear more color," I think aloud. My heavy cotton "Maine Lobster" socks make up the next layer. I slip on my black snow boots and place my black ballet flats in a Safeway bag. I place the bag by the door to make for easy grabbing on my way out.
I take the rollers out of my hair; volume emerges. I always look a bit like the housewife of a Texas oil tycoon at first. But my ne'er manicured, bitten fingernails betray that identity full stop.
A scarf. I need a scarf.
I turn off the TV and put on my dark wool coat. Hat. Gloves. On my way.
I walk down the hallway and approach the door to the building. I catch my reflection in the glass.
I see my mom.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
On you've come a long way, baby...
There's a woman I work with, and am temporarily supervising who, despite a lot of smarts and even more work ethic, is just "so young". She's 27, looks 16, and acts like she's on the early side of prom more than she does her reality of 10 years post-dance.
She's someone who has it all figured out. Despite having held some pretty strong opinions in the past, I've always been a bit more balanced. As much as it hurts to have my "fantastic and don't you agree I'm amazing?!" ideas shot down, I'm usually willing to confess others' ideas can, at times, outshine mine. Ouch. That hurt.
Anyway, this week has been a particularly traumatic one on the job front. I've been asked to do and publically endorse something that, in my heart of hearts, I simply don't believe in. And, let's face it, I'm not that great of an actress, so it's taken a lot of careful word choice and facial control. I've lost sleep over it, I've shed tears over it, and my voice has quivered as I introduced the idea to those I know it would most disappoint. It's been a rough one; rough enough to make me thankful that there is a possibility that come this summer, I'll be gone.
And my dear, dramatic, full of potential but full of immaturity colleague has only made it worse. She is the one who will, in fact, suffer from this decision the very most. At least in the short term. Which can feel like forever when you're on the receiving end.
Still, sometimes it's just amazing to look at someone just a year or two younger than you, and marvel in the differences. I'm not saying I'm any better than this person, but I am saying I can work a professional environment with a lot more sophistication than she can. Her mentality is just.. well.. stuck. She's been there less than a year and seems incapable of learning from others. She references herself as "a veteran" often enough to make my stomach hurt. She's someone who I feel I could truly offer something to in the way of professional growth, but is also someone who I'm not sure I'm patient enough to walk alongside.
I need to find it in me. She has the potential to rule the world someday. And, given my current malaise is due to the reality that decision makers above me would be a lot more inspiring with more fire in the belly, maybe she could teach me somethings after all.
She's someone who has it all figured out. Despite having held some pretty strong opinions in the past, I've always been a bit more balanced. As much as it hurts to have my "fantastic and don't you agree I'm amazing?!" ideas shot down, I'm usually willing to confess others' ideas can, at times, outshine mine. Ouch. That hurt.
Anyway, this week has been a particularly traumatic one on the job front. I've been asked to do and publically endorse something that, in my heart of hearts, I simply don't believe in. And, let's face it, I'm not that great of an actress, so it's taken a lot of careful word choice and facial control. I've lost sleep over it, I've shed tears over it, and my voice has quivered as I introduced the idea to those I know it would most disappoint. It's been a rough one; rough enough to make me thankful that there is a possibility that come this summer, I'll be gone.
And my dear, dramatic, full of potential but full of immaturity colleague has only made it worse. She is the one who will, in fact, suffer from this decision the very most. At least in the short term. Which can feel like forever when you're on the receiving end.
Still, sometimes it's just amazing to look at someone just a year or two younger than you, and marvel in the differences. I'm not saying I'm any better than this person, but I am saying I can work a professional environment with a lot more sophistication than she can. Her mentality is just.. well.. stuck. She's been there less than a year and seems incapable of learning from others. She references herself as "a veteran" often enough to make my stomach hurt. She's someone who I feel I could truly offer something to in the way of professional growth, but is also someone who I'm not sure I'm patient enough to walk alongside.
I need to find it in me. She has the potential to rule the world someday. And, given my current malaise is due to the reality that decision makers above me would be a lot more inspiring with more fire in the belly, maybe she could teach me somethings after all.
On the weather outside being frightful
It's snowing in Virginia. Buckle up, everyone.
I've lived in the DC area off and on for a span of about 4 years since 1999. And throughout that time I've been more than happy to point and laugh at what the people here call "winter" or a "heavy snowfall". As a native Mainer, one who has lived through a variety of ice storms and blizzards in her time in New England, I feel like I carry a lot of street cred.
Well, I felt I did. Until now.
Driving. My parents really didn't let me drive in the snow. Something about that only child thing again. Consequently, I have little snow driving experience and, upon seeing the lightest and friendliest of flakes fall, I get a bit of panic in my belly. "Do I know what to do? Do I have the right tires?" Overall, I feel like I have a pretty good head on my shoulders for this stuff, but I'm also really fearful of people around me doing stupid things. After all, I live in Virginia. During a solid but hardly paralyzing storm last year, one man just got out of his car and left it on the Wilson Bridge. It was working just fine; he, however, was not.
So, as I take it slow and leave ample distance between me and the cars in front of me, I pray that the native Maine blood kicks in when I need it. I also sit and wonder why I ever thought driving to Maine for Christmas instead of flying was a wise idea. Stay tuned.
I've lived in the DC area off and on for a span of about 4 years since 1999. And throughout that time I've been more than happy to point and laugh at what the people here call "winter" or a "heavy snowfall". As a native Mainer, one who has lived through a variety of ice storms and blizzards in her time in New England, I feel like I carry a lot of street cred.
Well, I felt I did. Until now.
Driving. My parents really didn't let me drive in the snow. Something about that only child thing again. Consequently, I have little snow driving experience and, upon seeing the lightest and friendliest of flakes fall, I get a bit of panic in my belly. "Do I know what to do? Do I have the right tires?" Overall, I feel like I have a pretty good head on my shoulders for this stuff, but I'm also really fearful of people around me doing stupid things. After all, I live in Virginia. During a solid but hardly paralyzing storm last year, one man just got out of his car and left it on the Wilson Bridge. It was working just fine; he, however, was not.
So, as I take it slow and leave ample distance between me and the cars in front of me, I pray that the native Maine blood kicks in when I need it. I also sit and wonder why I ever thought driving to Maine for Christmas instead of flying was a wise idea. Stay tuned.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
On holiday sensitivity...
Honestly, I'm just trying to get it right.
I have roughly 19 people at work for whom I felt compelled to buy SOMETHING for the holidays. Basically, I won't be eating this month to ensure that no one feels like Charlie Brown back at the office. It's incredibly expensive. It's also forced me to make a spreadsheet for my holiday gift giving. Good grief, indeed.
Of course, further complicating things is the fact that Hanukkah is so flippin early this year. I want to be sensitive and aware of the different religious identities of my staff, but I take issue with the following:
1) I'm still imposing my "Christmas mentality" on my Jewish staff. That's bad enough. But, for the one gift they are receiving, do I give it on the first day of Hanukkah or the last?
2) So no one thinks I'm playing favorites, I've essentially bought everyone some version of the same gift. Call me what you want, but I resent losing the surprise factor for everyone else by giving some presents earlier. GRRR.
3) I went so far as to ask my staff (all of them, for equality's sake) if they were "Christmas people" or "Hanukkah people," to make sure I got the timing and gift bags (no Christmas theming for Jewish staff!) just right. The responses are the following:
"Well, I'm Jewish, but I'm not Jewish Jewish. Just give me my gift with the masses."
"I'm Jewish, but I have a Christmas Tree at home and I love Christmas."
"We celebrate both, but I'm a Hanukkah girl."
I can't get my head around treating different Jewish people on staff differently.
I really just want to give everyone their gifts on the same day. I'm essentially equipped that I could give everyone their gift the last day of Hanukkah. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad. Of course, with three office related holiday parties planned, all of them fall after that day, denying me any opportunity for natural timing.
My ultimate fear is that, if I give the gifts too early, people then feel compelled to buy me something, and I pray that does not happen. Still, if roles were reversed I would feel like I HAD to run out and get something, anything, in exchange.
Where is Linus and his lesson on the true meaning of Christmas when I need him?
I have roughly 19 people at work for whom I felt compelled to buy SOMETHING for the holidays. Basically, I won't be eating this month to ensure that no one feels like Charlie Brown back at the office. It's incredibly expensive. It's also forced me to make a spreadsheet for my holiday gift giving. Good grief, indeed.
Of course, further complicating things is the fact that Hanukkah is so flippin early this year. I want to be sensitive and aware of the different religious identities of my staff, but I take issue with the following:
1) I'm still imposing my "Christmas mentality" on my Jewish staff. That's bad enough. But, for the one gift they are receiving, do I give it on the first day of Hanukkah or the last?
2) So no one thinks I'm playing favorites, I've essentially bought everyone some version of the same gift. Call me what you want, but I resent losing the surprise factor for everyone else by giving some presents earlier. GRRR.
3) I went so far as to ask my staff (all of them, for equality's sake) if they were "Christmas people" or "Hanukkah people," to make sure I got the timing and gift bags (no Christmas theming for Jewish staff!) just right. The responses are the following:
"Well, I'm Jewish, but I'm not Jewish Jewish. Just give me my gift with the masses."
"I'm Jewish, but I have a Christmas Tree at home and I love Christmas."
"We celebrate both, but I'm a Hanukkah girl."
I can't get my head around treating different Jewish people on staff differently.
I really just want to give everyone their gifts on the same day. I'm essentially equipped that I could give everyone their gift the last day of Hanukkah. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad. Of course, with three office related holiday parties planned, all of them fall after that day, denying me any opportunity for natural timing.
My ultimate fear is that, if I give the gifts too early, people then feel compelled to buy me something, and I pray that does not happen. Still, if roles were reversed I would feel like I HAD to run out and get something, anything, in exchange.
Where is Linus and his lesson on the true meaning of Christmas when I need him?
On feeling threatened...
The first sin of blogging is never updating your blog.
My apologies. Life has been insanely busy lately, and not due to work travel. Office madness and the holiday season have reared their stressful heads and left me passed out on the couch when I should have been blogging.
But when my readers complain, I listen. Thanks for the kick in the butt, Kel.
I was driving home tonight around 8 pm. I stayed late to tend to various business, including being stood up by one of my students who was "so very eager" to profile me for a newsletter he's writing. To make myself feel better I made my fourth trip to Target in 5 days, and managed to spend yet another $90 or so on Christmas shopping. Honestly, you'd think I run an orphanage or something. I threw the bags in the car and headed home, for real this time, only to hear a familiar ring tone that made me groan.
When I was in high school, I was a cheerleader. One of the routines we did regularly was to "Be True to Your School" by The Beach Boys. Cheesy, campy, yes, all of it, but it was also tradition and Cony High School cheerleaders had been doing that routine, well, since the song came out. Anyway, I use that ring tone for people from work. I have a very sick since of humor.
Long story short, 'twas my boss.
She was really just calling to vent/brainstorm. It's not like I was in trouble or anything. Still, I really can't figure out if it's a good or a bad thing that, after two days straight of meetings together, meetings where we literally sit in the same room for 8 hours, that she still feels the need to call me at 8 pm to chat.
What's worse is that she was calling because she was paranoid about something we both witnessed. As luck had it, I was paranoid about it too. I'm not sure if it's an only child thing or what, but having my boss suffer from the same level of paranoia and, by venting about it, essentially endorse it, makes me supremely frustrated. The last thing I need is my self-consciousness encouraged, and that's just what happened tonight. Whenever something is up, tension, plans, whatever sparks the radar, we both plummet into, "Shit, what did I do wrong?!" mode. Neither of us are capable of conceiving of the fact that one thing has nothing to do with us. It really is only child syndrome. Growing up in an atmosphere where everything, like it or not, really IS all about you, makes it difficult to let things go. If someone is in a bad mood, it's clearly my fault. Or, if not mine, my boss'. I need people around me who work this out of me, not allow it to fester. Alas, however, my current work environment will not allow it.
Still, my boss is a mover and a shaker. And maybe assuming you have a role in everything, good or bad, large or small, is just another key to success. Success and a heart attack, I suppose. Here's to hoping success comes first.
My apologies. Life has been insanely busy lately, and not due to work travel. Office madness and the holiday season have reared their stressful heads and left me passed out on the couch when I should have been blogging.
But when my readers complain, I listen. Thanks for the kick in the butt, Kel.
I was driving home tonight around 8 pm. I stayed late to tend to various business, including being stood up by one of my students who was "so very eager" to profile me for a newsletter he's writing. To make myself feel better I made my fourth trip to Target in 5 days, and managed to spend yet another $90 or so on Christmas shopping. Honestly, you'd think I run an orphanage or something. I threw the bags in the car and headed home, for real this time, only to hear a familiar ring tone that made me groan.
When I was in high school, I was a cheerleader. One of the routines we did regularly was to "Be True to Your School" by The Beach Boys. Cheesy, campy, yes, all of it, but it was also tradition and Cony High School cheerleaders had been doing that routine, well, since the song came out. Anyway, I use that ring tone for people from work. I have a very sick since of humor.
Long story short, 'twas my boss.
She was really just calling to vent/brainstorm. It's not like I was in trouble or anything. Still, I really can't figure out if it's a good or a bad thing that, after two days straight of meetings together, meetings where we literally sit in the same room for 8 hours, that she still feels the need to call me at 8 pm to chat.
What's worse is that she was calling because she was paranoid about something we both witnessed. As luck had it, I was paranoid about it too. I'm not sure if it's an only child thing or what, but having my boss suffer from the same level of paranoia and, by venting about it, essentially endorse it, makes me supremely frustrated. The last thing I need is my self-consciousness encouraged, and that's just what happened tonight. Whenever something is up, tension, plans, whatever sparks the radar, we both plummet into, "Shit, what did I do wrong?!" mode. Neither of us are capable of conceiving of the fact that one thing has nothing to do with us. It really is only child syndrome. Growing up in an atmosphere where everything, like it or not, really IS all about you, makes it difficult to let things go. If someone is in a bad mood, it's clearly my fault. Or, if not mine, my boss'. I need people around me who work this out of me, not allow it to fester. Alas, however, my current work environment will not allow it.
Still, my boss is a mover and a shaker. And maybe assuming you have a role in everything, good or bad, large or small, is just another key to success. Success and a heart attack, I suppose. Here's to hoping success comes first.
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