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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. |
 Sorry, but I am without talent. I keep hoping though that one day I'll discover a hidden talent. In the midst of trying something new, I'll suddenly tap into a well of raw, untapped talent. Perhaps it is because I'm so completely without talent that can't get excited about the annual, PTA sponsored talent show. My daughter is in middle school now... I'd have thought she might have lost interest, but no. Every year she enters the talent show. I've sat through bunches of these things. One might think the kids would get more talented as they get older, but the truth is, they just get less cute. The thing is, her school keeps getting bigger. Now she has 1,000 classmates, and... and... and... they think Lip Syncing is a TALENT. So, arriving at the school I make my way to the 'cafetorium.'  dragging along my reluctant son. On our way I pick up a program listing the OMIGOD 63 Acts! Milling along with the crowd we make our way toward the every growing hum of enthusiasm. I take my seat in the icy metal folding chairs and stiffle a yawn even as my son announces, as he will announce a hundred more times over the course of the program, "I'M BORED!" Yeah... me too, kid.Katie and her Daddy are somewhere in the crush. The talented ones must arrive early to prepare. My husband is part of Katie's act. He has been her martial arts instructor since Kindergarten, and once a year he lets her throw him around in front of the school. He thinks it sends an important message to all the boys at school. My job is to be in the audience. I'm supposed to clap and wave and shout things like "that's my girl!" I don't do any of these things though. Sometimes I'm not even in the room. You see, I spend a lot of time hanging around the hallway while Zach make use of the little boys room for the zillionth time. The majority of the acts are groups of girls dressed in outfits that are WAY too uhmm... trashy? I'll go with that. So they are on stage, all slutted-up, lip syncing songs that are WAY too suggestive, while shaking their WAY too developed booties. Sometimes they might really sing. One year their was some Irish Step Dancing. There are the occasional pianists, and cellists, and gymnasts, but mostly it is a sad homage to the American Idol tryouts. This year the boy and I decided to skip the talent show.  Turns out I wasn't up for the whole "mother of the year" thing anyway. Speaking of mothers... the expectant mother that is my sister-in-law is still expectant. My brother is so funny about it. This is his first one, and he had to go out and buy a stop watch so he'd be ready to time contractions. Every time she has a contraction he hovers anxiously asking "are you having another one yet?" I figure that the baby will probably arrive in the middle of the big storm heading our way. Ah yes! There is snow in the forecast, but no one can say how much. This is a nor'easter, and accumulations all depend on how the storm tracks... it could be anywhere from less than an inch to more than a foot depending on which computer model you want to believe. We had a big snow storm in mid February that snowed us all in for Valentine's Day. We had another in mid March that forced them to cancel the St. Patrick's Day Parade. It would only make sense to have another storm in mid April. I'm beginning to change my mind on the whole "spring is my favorite season" idea. Well... enough about me. Time to swing through blogville and check in on all of you. |
| My mother is a Social Worker. I've probably mentioned that before, but just in case you missed it... she is. She says a lot of social-worky type things. One of them, that she often tells me, is "people treat you the way you allow them to treat you." I don't always like that type of thinking because when I'm feeling wronged, or indignant, I sure as hell don't won't to look at myself, and what I need to do differently. I just want that other person to knock it the f#ck off!!! (Now, I do try to steer away from offensive, and potentially offensive language as a rule in this blog, but today just isn't the day for that. My apologies, but if you don't like it, don't read it.) So in case you hadn't guessed, today was another bad day in an increasingly bad week. I've been told I can't rant worth a damn, so I won't call this a rant. This is probably going to fall more along the lines of pissing and moaning, but maybe that'll help. I work with a woman who wants to be queen bee. She is very used to being catered to in her life. For example, she is quite proud of the fact that she has NEVER pumped her own gas and wouldn't even know how. She has a husband and grown son who baby her at home. She is another supervisor in the department, and we hold equivalent workloads and responsibilities, though to hear her tell it, she runs the whole department single handedly because our supervisor can't do a thing without her (except pump gas). She and our supervisor had an affair some years back and that tends to make a mess of things in the work place. Needless to say, it is virtually impossible for me to come out ahead in any disagreement we might have. We have a lot of them. She never misses a chance to take a shot at me, imply that I'm not doing my share, or bad mouth one of my employees. I've pretty well resigned myself to enduring this nonsense. I do my job, and I let my work stand for itself. I try not to personalize her little power trips because I know that it isn't about me so much as it is about HER. That said... I've fucking had it!!!!  As of today, this Bitch is spinning the events of yesterday to pin every problem that occurred on me. I didn't communicate. I didn't prepare. I didn't one fucking thing right to hear her tell it. Funny how I have a spread sheet itemizing each problem that came up yesterday, the actions that were taken to resolve the issues, and the issues that are still outstanding. Did anyone from the outlying counties even gather information about what problems they encountered? If they did, I haven't seen it. I posted my spread sheet in a shared file with an invitation to anyone to add their issues... nothing! Did anyone call me yesterday to clarify any issues that were causing confusion, or to ask for any help at all. NO! I initiated every phone call! When I found a problem, I called the other counties to see if they were having the same problems and to discuss ways to work around those issues. Today the complaint is that we are not all on the same page. Well no SHIT!!! I can't argue with that. I don't know what the fuck page she is on, but clearly it isn't the same one I'm on! My question is this... HOW IS THAT MY FAULT? Her problem is that she doesn't know what she is doing, so she can't help anyone, she can't explain anything, and she can't understand let alone resolve any issues. She is worthless and I have no use for her. Don't get me wrong. There are things she does well in the office. She is very dedicated and works long and hard to see to it that the people we serve are receiving the services they need. She is a caring compassionate person and literally can not sleep at night unless she has done her job (and no one else is as capable of doing it). She is good at that aspect of her job, but that is not her entire job, and she doesn't run the damn department, and she is NOT my boss. No, my boss is a whole other story. He was in Scranton yesterday covering a meeting for me because I can't be in two places at once. When he come back he make some snide remark about how I should thank my coworkers for leaving me "high and dry" and alone in the main office. Now, he is the boss... don't ya think that seeing the problem, he might've intervened? We are supposed to have another "Attaching services" day in two weeks, and he is now thinking about canceling because of yesterday's fiasco. It's not the solution, and I told him that, but... time will tell. Sometimes I manage to get his ear, but he is generally more responsive to the parts she gets. So this brings me back to where I started. "People treat us the way we let them treat us." The thought is just kind of there, but what the hell do I do with it? |
| As predicted, things were a mess today. I was abandoned by my coworkers. I'm not sure why our smallest office required two managers while I was left to handle the largest office solo, but at one point I was seriously contemplating one of those "take a number machines." I had a line at my door for most of the day. On the bright side, I made it through the morning, and spend most of the afternoon compiling a spread sheet of the issues and questions raised, along with the fixes for those that had been resolved. The math was a bitch. We had to carry numbers and everything! Thank God there were no fractions though. Anyway, I'm burnt out. I will try to catch up with all of you tomorrow. |
| Tomorrow is going to be a big day at work. Tomorrow I get to coordinate our first major push to get services entered, authorized and payment ready as part of our big Fiscal Management roll-out. Since we do so love our acronyms, this is widely referred to as the FM roll-out. I prefer to think of it as the f-ING roll out. If there is one thing I have learned in the past few months, it is this-- Every last person in my department chose a career in human services for the same singular reason… not one of us could have passed a serious college level math course. Economics? Accounting? There are reasons we avoided these classes. When I was an undecided Freshman, I went through the University course book and eliminated every major that required either Calculus or Chemistry from my list of potential majors. I just never realized it was such a common phenomenon. I joined the ranks of those who were content to struggle through Statistics for the Social Sciences. I was damn proud of that A (regardless of the fact that I had to drop the class twice before that). Who needs math? Now fast forward 15 years and we are all sitting around with our calculators trying to talk our way through this stuff. “Okay, they go to day program for 7 hours a day, and that’s 5 days per week. Times that by 52 weeks per year…That’s 1820. No wait, it is billed in 15 minute units. So is that 1820 x 15? No, that can’t be right. How bout if I divide by 4? Multiple?” You get the picture. It is going to be painful. In other news, today marks the official start of my daughter’s softball season. She loves softball and has always been a good player, but I expect nothing short of greatness now that she’s got her glasses. Finally, my sister in law went to the OB today and was told that she should expect to have this baby sometime between tomorrow and the end of the week. It is their first child and I’m very excited for them. Sorry that it isn’t much of a blog entry, but it is hard to match the deeply meaningful and revealing “purse inventory” from yesterday. And for the record... it isn't a big purse. I measured it and it is only 8 inches wide by 10 inches deep. So... I guess it is all about density. |
| I went to my mother's this evening to pick up the boy child. My mother was working, but my brother and sister-in-law were there with Zach and their boys. They will be heading back home tomorrow, so we stayed to visit for a little while. While we were there, Zach complained that it felt like there was "something sharp" in his ear. My husband looked and it did look like there was something. He said it looked like a splinter or sliver of some sort. Zach, of course, denied putting anything in his ear. I asked my daughter to get my purse so I could get the tweezers out for Tony. "You carry tweezers in your purse?" my sister in law asked. "Doesn't everyone?" "What else do you have in there?" Hmmm... It isn't an especially big purse, so when I actually think about the contents I'm always a bit shocked at the volume, but here is the rough inventory: Wallet, keys, hairbrush, lotion, sunglasses, multiple pens, small box of 4 crayons, rechargeable battery, memory stick for digital camera, various feminine products, two cell phones (only one which was charged), two packs of gum, two chapsticks, inhaler, eyedrops, bandaids, Dramamine, Tylenol, tissues, the small manicure set (with file, nail clippers, and tweezers), sewing kit with safety pins, a tube of hydrocortisone cream, blue post-it note flags, and an assortment of receipts, shopping lists, coupons, and frequent buyer cards. Surprisingly, I seem to have lost my mini flashlight/ screwdriver, and my calculator, but with all the crap I keep in there, I hadn't noticed they were gone. My sister-in-law was surprised that I don't carry a notebook. Well, it'd probably be a good idea, but there's no room! Anyway, if I am ever trapped in a copper mine with McGyver, I am confident that I've got whatever he might need to get us out. Just to be on the safe side though, I should add a couple bobby pins... and maybe some duct tape. |
| I left my son at my mother's house. He is spending the night there along with his cousins. Between the candy, and the excitement of playing with his cousins, that child is flying high. It was a good day, complete with the requisite feasting, laughing and arguing that makes up any gathering of my family. My daughter decided that she really likes the arguing part. So far, her three areas of vocational interest are taking pictures, blowing stuff up, and arguing. Sounds like the makings of a brilliant career to me. Last night I started showing my sister-in-law around my port. I let her read some and she took my quizzes. My brother wanted to know if I had written any limericks. So I did some sharing... which still feels strange to me. I guess eventually I'll get over that shyness. Obviously I will have to get over it if I ever plan to have any success as a writer. Tomorrow I must return to work although it does not feel like I've had a "long weekend" at all. I'll sift through the noise of the weekend later. For now, I need to call it a night. I hope to catch up with you all soon.  |
| I had a strange dream last night and for whatever reason, I want to record it here. It isn't that I think it means anything, but it was extremely vivid and just weird. In my dream, I was in my house sitting in the living room with my husband and a friend. I caught something out of the corner of my eye and when I looked up at the ceiling, I noticed a growing crack in the corner of the living room ceiling. When I say growing, I mean to say that it was growing before my eyes. I looked away for awhile, but I was starting to get an uneasy feeling. When I glanced back, there was a piece of the ceiling that was being folded back to create a gap in the ceiling. "Oh my God! Look at that. Something is in the ceiling... is MOVING the ceiling," I said. Tony barely glanced up to the spot on the ceiling that I was pointing at. "Most be a mischievous rodent," he said very matter of fact. You know how in some dreams there is a moment when you suddenly become aware that this must be a dream? This was that moment. "Mischievous rodent" sounded so strange coming out of my husbands mouth, I knew it must be a dream. Still, even knowing it was a dream, and even though the rodent was in the ceiling, I instinctively drew my feet up off the floor. So my friend goes over and looks up into the hole in the ceiling and say "yup... I see its eyes. Definitely rodent eyes." "Aren't you gonna do something?" I yelled at Tony "Like what?" "Get rid of IT!!!" At that point Tony looked at me like I was very simple. "We can't get rid of it. Best we can do is make it feel unwelcome and hope it chooses to leave." "What?" "Ignore it." "...But it is going to destroy the house." "...and the sooner you start ignoring it, the sooner it will stop and go away." At this point my friend decides to leave. I have smart friends. In spite of my attempts to ignore the rodent, it is dismantling the ceiling and watching me through the ever growing hole. "I bet it'd feel more unwelcome if we threw stuff at it." "You can't throw stuff at it," Tony said. "It's bad luck." About that time, Tony stood up and started getting ready to leave. "Where are you going?" "It's Thursday, I have to go teach class." "You can't leave me here with this thing." "It's fine. Just ignore it," he said as he left. I felt the growing edge of panic as I crossed the room to the hole in the ceiling. Looking up into the hole I saw the little mischievous face looking down at me. Fortunately, it didn't look like a rat. It looked quite like a lemur. ...and then I realized again that it was a dream and finally woke. So that is me strange dream. Go figure! Today we are dying eggs. The snow never amounted to anything so my white egg idea isn't gonna float. That's okay though. My family has a rather odd tradition around egg dying. When we were kids we always made the last egg hideously ugly by dipping it in strange combinations of dye. We called it the "puke egg." The Easter "puke egg" is a long standing tradition that everyone looks forward to. |
| If it keeps snowing here, we're gonna leave the eggs white and hide them outside. That should keep the kids busy. Well, the holiday weekend is underway. My brother and his wife and boys came up from Virginia today. and it has been a day of running around. My nephews are very close in age to Zach, and he loves spending time with his cousins. On Sunday there will be Easter dinner at my Mother's. My other brother and his VERY pregnant wife will be here too, along with Bonnie and her daughters. Bonnie's mother has taken up a snowbird lifestyle. She went to Florida in mid December, and won't be back until mid-April. My mother has sort of adopted Bonnie for the holidays, and that works well all around. I'm not sure how much I'll be on-line this weekend, so.... Happy Easter Everyone!!! |
| Well… it stopped raining. In fact, when I left for work this morning, it was snowing. It was just a light slow, nothing to cause problems, but it did merit some mild head shaking. I guess I’m stuck wearing shoes a bit longer. I went out in the rain yesterday to take a picture of my poor lone daffodil for zwisis I think it will be alone for awhile longer. The other buds are holding out for some warmth and some sunshine. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** I want to thank Startiara  for the dragonfly sig she generously gifted to me. It is wonderful, and I hope to have it up and running soon. Hmmm… I also plan to have my taxes done soon. Maybe I need to start a to do list. My office is closed tomorrow for Good Friday. Today… after a stressful week, and in anticipation of a long weekend, folks were getting down right silly. One of my casemanagers had helped a client move. His name happened to be Fernando, and his move was a happy occasion, that marked the culmination of many hard hours of support planning. Since she was feeling celebratory she kept dancing around the office singing… “There was something in the air that night The stars were bright, Fernando They were shining there for you and me For liberty, Fernando.” I’m sure everyone recognizes the ABBA tune “Fernando.” Right? Yep… the job doesn’t have a lot of perks so when you land on some non-economic incentive, like personal theme music, you’ve gotta make the most of it. Before long everyone was wanting personal theme music. We had quite a bit of fun picking out theme music for each other. Bonnie asked me what her theme song should be. Uhmm…. “Lookin’ for Love.”  Okay, so it was probably a little unkind when they suggested Roy Orbison’s “Crying,” as Alan’s theme music. Me? Well it was suggested mine should be “Mama said there would be days like this.” It fits my week pretty well, but I don’t think it is really me. I’ll have to think of something better. Maybe Twisted Sister’s “We’re not gonna take it.” Sadly though… I keep taking it, so I’m not sure that really works. If you had personal theme music, what would it be? |
| A cold front has moved in bringing with it rain that promises to turn to snow if the temperature continues to drop. When I walked into the office, I was flagged over by one of my caseworkers. She kept signaling me in closer and finally whispered “there is something wrong with the new guy. He’s been crying all morning.” Yep. Sometimes it doesn’t pay to get out of bed. Turns out Alan’s girlfriend dumped him unexpectedly and he was just a mess. Now, as a general rule, I don’t do that well with crying people. I don’t deal well with MY OWN emotions. I left him alone… crying in his little cubicle, and after a little while he seemed to get a grip. He has been working very hard at staying busy today to keep his mind focused. Poor Alan. Fast forward now to 2:00 in the afternoon… Another of my caseworkers walks in to my office and says on a choked back sob “I have to go home. I can’t stay here like this.” She is looking frazzled… disheveled even. She goes on to tell me her woes… The Dr. changed her medications… not doing well… cycling into mania… hasn’t slept in a couple days… yadda, yadda, yadda. As she is talking she is pacing around my tiny office as she is half laughing, half crying. I reassured her as best I could. “I understand. Go home. We’ll work out the time.” She has an appointment with the Doctor for 4:00 and I am hoping he is able to get her to a more comfortable place. Poor Jen. It would seem that emotions are running a little close to the surface here today. In other news… You all might remember about a month ago my mother had a Psychic do a reading. Well, ever since then she’s been saying that she thought I should have one too. Now, I’ve never had anything like that, and it isn’t really something I would initiate, but my mother also invited my friend Bonnie, and she is VERY into it. As is stands now, I’m going along for the ride. A psychic reading... more worrisome than a fortune cookie, but less reliable than the weatherman... If I think about this as anything other than a party game, I start to feel apprehensive about it. I don’t know why. I’m just plain, boring me after all… what could she possibly see? I’m not sure when it is going to happen, but I’m already thinking about the types of things that I would expect her to know, like… the fact that I’m married. I haven’t worn my ring since I had poison ivy last summer, so nothing to tip her off there. I’d expect her to know that I have two kids, and that my son is “special” in some way (aren’t we all! ).What else… Maybe she’ll tell me that I have an oppositional nature, that I’m shy around new people. Will she know that I write? Will she know that I’ve tied my hopes and aspirations into writing?… that I want to be a writer? Now that would impress me. Do I want to know whether I’ll be successful as a writer? No. I don’t want to know. When she did my mother’s reading she asked her what questions she had, and what things she might like to know about. I don’t know what I’d ask. Guess I should think about that. |
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