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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. |
The Scooby Doo marathon continues. In theory, it is my son who is watching cartoon, but my husband and I can amuse ourselves quite nicely with silly little innuendos about Fred and Daphne.  It makes me laugh, but then I guess I'm easy. In the current episode the bad guy tomb raiders tell the gang... "If there were an army of the undead down there, our equipment would detect it." Really!!? You have equipment that detects the undead? Where the hell did you buy it? Sharper Image? Now I know what I want for Christmas! Well, that is the sum total of what's on my mind.  |
| Today I went for a hike along the creek. I traded out the boy-child for the dog. Zachary was spending some quality time with Grandma, so Katie, Tony and our dog, Carter, took a hike along the creek. The foliage is almost at its peak. It was a beautiful day, and Carter is much more enthusiastic about hiking than Zack. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Here my hiking buddies take a rest. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** The trees were beautiful! Hope you all are having a great weekend |
| Let's see, I've interviewed a bunch of people this week. I have a couple good prospects and a few more interviews still to come next week. Lets just say I have a lot of fodder for building NaNo characters. Work has been a headache this week, and the bossman and I have been contemplating our changing relationship with the region. The premise of the relationship used to be "We hear you and we feel your pain." Sometimes they even shared our pain. Now the message is "We hear you and we don't give a shit," or more succinctly "comply or die!" If we opt for death, we might still have a shot at heaven. If we chose compliance, we are clearly on path to hell. With that in mind, and having joked about a rhyming resignation letter, I penned a new poem. I Quit I’ve made it through these past ten years; I forged ahead, ignored my fears, And if at times, my conscience cried I soldiered on with righteous pride. I made my way up through the ranks guarding my rear, protecting flanks, clawed my way up to the middle, settled back to rest a little. I ponder how we’ve all moved up; with the devil, we’ve calmly supped, and staring at my empty plate, I wonder if it’s not too late . . . I feel that I have served you well while I carved out my niche in hell. The time has come, I must resign, reclaim the soul that’s rightly mine. Hmmm... that probably reads a bit darker than I intended. It is all rather tongue in cheek though, darkly funny in it's absurdity. This is just business as usual, and the soul snatching is strictly metaphorical . . . or so they tell me. Maybe I should hire the giggler. She seemed like fun. |
| Happy Birthday Emoticon!!! The emoticon is 25 years old! Legend has it that it was first given life by a computer science professor at Carnegie Mellon University. It was intended to warm up the cold nature of electronic communications. The word 'emoticon' wouldn't be born until later.  Communication goes way beyond words into an area none as meta communication. We communicate with tone of voice, body language, and eye contact. We tune into the mood of the conversation. We say so much more than our words. So with email and other forms of electronic communication we lose the non verbal signals. As a result, our brain lack the cues necessary to interpret the emotions. The author of the email thinks the emotion is clear enough. Tapping away on their laptop, they chuckle at their little joke, but will the humor hit or miss on the other end? Research shows that we are wired to misunderstand email. Positive messages are viewed as neutral. Neutral messages are viewed as negative. Concise becomes terse. And don't even think about being sarcastic.  Well thankfully we have the emoticon to help keep things straight. And the other bright spot . . . as we get to know each other better, we get more accurate about interpretting the tone of those emails. PS.... I forgot to thank Joy   for this much appreciated merit badge! |
| Since I continue to be understaffed, I had to play case manager today. This involved making an unscheduled visit to an adult day program for adults with developmental disabilities... which happens to be across the street from a crack house. Not to worry though, most of the drug deals go down at night when the program is closed. In a weird sort of way, it works. I complain, but really, what types of businesses DO make good neighbors for a crack-house. Well, I gave this a lot of thought today. Part of it depends on perspective. Are we looking at it from the stand point of the community or the crack-head. More thought on this leads me to think there MUST be some common ground. I decided to take a poll to determine which neighbors would be most suited for this primo location. 1. Bail Bonds.   The crack-heads (CH) say: "You gotta be accessible to your customer base." The concerned citizens (CC) say: "That's a crack-house!!?" 2. Convenience Store. CH: "A place to pick up smokes, munchies and some quick cash." CC: "I'm down with the slushies, but I'm not going there at night." 3. Gold Gym CH: "Yeah, I'm gonna work on my cardio so I can outrun those fat ass cops." CC: "No one likes a flabby crack-head" 4. Pawn Shop CH: "A good way to raise some much needed capital." CC: "A good way to recover stolen property." 5. Gun and Ammo Shop CH: "Now you're talking!" CC: no comment... just the sign of the cross Alright, enough of that nonsense. Time for some entirely different nonsense. Eight random facts about me. 1. My husband once gave me the Minnesota Multi-phasic Pesonality Inventory (MMPI) and it turns out I scored outside the "normal" range on the scale associated with psychopathic deviance. Muwhahahahaha! 2. I'm not gonna tag anyone. I break chains. (see #1) 3. I talk with my hands. A lot. 4. I met Jim Palmer (then pitcher for the Orioles) at an airport near Baltimore. He is a nice guy and signed an autograph for me. 5. I always sleep with one foot out from under the covers so I won't feel claustrophobic. 6. I don't know when I'll be able to quit my job, but I'm already working on my letter of resignation. I think it should rhyme. 7. I'm addicted to Diet Coke, my iPod, and writing deviant haiku. 8. I've never been dumped or fired, but I have been rejected and laid off. So that was pretty random. You can blame scarlett_o_h and Eagle~The Cowboy's Wife  for tagging me! I do. |
| Yep, I will consistently shoot myself in the foot every chance I get. I need someone to just slap me. The line forms right here   After weeks of agonizing over this NaNo crap, and going from no idea at all to characters and a plot that can damn near write themselves, I came to a screeching halt this morning. The thought flew into my head and out of my mouth before I could do anything about it. "It's really a shame," I said. "I think my idea is good and it could really make a great book, but it's just shame that I'm the one trying to write it. I just don't think I can do it justice." My husband walked out of the room without saying a word, but I know his hand was itching to slap me. Hell, I can't blame him, I annoy myself too. Yep, I have issues. Yep, it reminds me of my senior year in high school. I had picked up a bunch of scholarship applications, and was looking them over... trying to find something I vaguely qualified for. I balled up an application in irritation and threw it in the trash. "No point in even filling it out. I'll never get it." "Which application was that?" "Uhmmm... the Optimists' Club"  |
| Yep, today was Boss's Day. I am convinced it is the biggest killer of office productivity since the advent of instant messaging. Since nobody realized it was boss's day until this morning, we spent huge amounts of time emailing back and forth deciding what to get the boss-man, how much we would chip in, and who would do the leg work. Then came the instant-messaged side bar discussions complaining about the decisions that had just been made (it is, after all, an office of predominately women). At some point consensus building gave way to me announcing that since I was the one running out to buy the damn gift, we would all be doing things my way! It was a small step backward for democracy, but a huge leap forward for efficiency and nobody was harmed in the making of my decision. Next, we had to contend with the fact that no one actually had cash to contribute. So, one by one the staff had to sneak out of the office for a stealthy trip to the ATM. Once the funds were secured, I made the secretive trip over to the Wine and Spirits shop to purchase a gift card. I also ran to the drug store for a Boss's Day Card. All told, that pretty much killed the morning. Speaking of killing... I've decided that the NaNo forums are a scary place. I don't know that I've ever encountered so many people plotting murder! I find a certain dark humor to it all. That probably says something about me. |
| The nice thing about cleaning the kitchen yesterday is that it inspired my husband to cook up a big pot of chili today. Mmmmmm.... Chili. The house is filled with the scents of spicy goodness and there are cookies for desert. Life is good. It's been a productive weekend and my brain has been buzzing over NaNo ideas and dilemmas. (see writing journal for details )My brain is also buzzing over my daughters budding relationship with JonPaul. Seems that the two of them have been friends forever, but that friendship seems to be edging toward something so tangibly sweet it makes my teeth ache. They were off of school on Monday and Katie walked down to the Elementary School to "walk the dog" and "hang out" with JonPaul. The two of them walked back together and spent most of the afternoon sitting out in the backyard. Yesterday she wanted to meet JonPaul at the Elementary school. They ended up back at the house again. JonPaul stayed for dinner, and then stayed to watch a movie. He was at the house until 10 PM. Today, Katie wanted to go to a friends house to hang out with her and JonPaul. She says they are just friends, and I'm not going to suggest otherwise. They are both good kids, and it amuses me to watch them together. They've been friends too long to put on an act for each other so it is all very genuine. The affection is as obvious as it is innocent. I remember feeling that way once upon a time. Yep, life is good.  |
| Today I wanted to make cookies, but before I could get started, I needed to clean up the kitchen some. I have no love of housework. I especially dislike kitchen type housework. Since I don't cook much I generally leave the heavy duty kitchen cleaning to my husband. I'll do the dishes and such, but my theory is that if I don't use it, I shouldn't have to clean it. This gets me out of cleaning the stove. . . not to mention emptying the litter box. Still, I can't make cookies without cleaning up a bit first, and since Tony wasn't home, I decide to give the kitchen a lick and a promise. As I'm going about the mind-numbing task of cleaning the kitchen, I keep thinking about that expression. A lick and a promise. I grew up with that expression, but never really gave it any thought. As I worked my way over the kitchen surfaces it slowly dawned on me... Hey! That sounds vaguely obscene! So, once I finished baking the cookies (mmmmm... warm, gooey chocolate chip cookies. I may not cook, but my bake goods are fabulous), I googled "a lick and a promise." I wasn't sure what I'd get, but porn was in the running. Turns out the idiom "a lick and a promise" refers to a quick, careless cleaning. That pretty well describes most of my efforts. The sites go on to explain that it is a reference to the way children wash up... or fail to do so, and the earliest citation of it appearing in literature dated back to 1860. Go figure. I still think it sounds suggestive. Some promises are more fun than others. |
| The other night I was sitting the living room folding laundry while Tony was surfing through channels. He landed on a program about a man who built a very impressive bar out in his pool cabana. Turns out he’d landed on HGTV and the program was “Look what I did.” Tony likes watching wood working so he seemed content to stay put for the moment. I think he may have even put down the remote. “Remember when I made the bar?” “Mmmmm… those were good times. Might have helped if you’d had his tools. Or at least a level. Maybe a tape measure.” Tony made a dismissive sound. “Hey look!" I said, "he’s using nails from a box. Check it out. He doesn’t even have to pound them straight first.” Tony just rolled his eyes at me. He believes in recycling. “He is gonna tile the top. If I ever build another bar, I think that’s what I’ll do.” Now it was my turn to do some eye rolling. “I don’t know if you could tile over the old door you used on top of our bar.” “That’s why I said next time,” he pointed out. “Next time I’m gonna make a pirate bar. Do you think I could get decorative tiles with different pirate flags?” “You’d probably have to special order them.” “Probably.” That little conversation took us to the commercial break. When the show came back on, they’d moved on to the next “Look what I did project.” “Hey, how come when I tell ya to look at what I did, it is never a good thing?” Tony asked. Since I had been sitting there thinking the same thing, I had to laugh. “Look what I did” is a phrase I meet with fear and trepidation. "Look what I did" is what I hear after he's weeded all my perennials out of the garden; decapitated my a shrub; ruined my laundry; shaved the dog; or donated all of my winter clothes to Good Will after I took them out of the closet to make room for summer stuff. My look of horror is usually met with "I just wanted to surprise you." I don't like surprises. "Look what I did" also accompanies most forms of blood letting. It is what he says when he loses a fingernail, slices a hand or sticks a pitchfork in his foot. Often in is followed quickly by "I need a bandaid," or depending on the extent of the injury, "I need a tourniquet." We sat and thought about it, and in the end, we decided to change the channel. |
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