August 6th, 1960 - October 1, 2007
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I've gone from not having enough hours in the day to do everything that needs doing at work, and working weekends and late nights, to being bored to tears. As of right now (1:24 PST) I've done exactly one thing of value since I arrived at work this morning. I've already had lunch, played Peggle, read Dooce and GFY, snacked on everything stashed in my desk worth snacking on, and bothered all of my available coworkers and friends via IM.
I have a meeting at 2 with my boss for my regular one:one, in which I have to tell her about my upcoming trip to Boston/NYC in October. I haven't said anything yet because I was afraid that it was going to be a problem, and I'd rather call in sick for 4 days than be told I can't have the time off. Because I'm going. End of discussion.
In other news... I'm having bra issues. To begin, a little story:
My bra is sitting on the bed in my room. Enter best friend. She picks up said bra, examines it for a moment, then comments, "you could eat cereal out of these things". My charming husband then comments, "NObody needs that much cereal!"
Let's just say that they're not small. My bras have been commented upon in many ways, my favorite of which was, "it looks like a bike helmet for siamese twins".
So, last week I'm sitting at my desk, and as I twist and lean to throw something into my trash can, I hear a noise. Imagine the sound a huge redwood tree cracking and breaking would produce and you'd be close. Underwire. Toast. Fuck. This is the only white one I have left. Double Fuck.
I hate bra shopping. Seems like every time I find a style I like, they discontinue it shortly after I buy them. The particular style I've been wearing for the last year-and-a-half makes the girls look very nice, and that's saying something. They're supported like they've never been supported before, way up high and happy. The cups, though decidedly firm, are also maleable. I don't know exactly how to explain it, except to say that I'm not being forced into an entirely unnatural shape, and that's good. Problem is, this style in this fabric is no longer available. They still make the style, but only in a fabric option that makes me feel like my tits are being held up by stainless steel bowls (yes, that size - but way less attractive in shape). They don't give or flex at all, and it's uncomfortable. I know this because I got two of them when I got the lovely, cotton ones, and haven't worn them but once ever. So, now I have to go to the store to try different styles on, then order them online because they don't carry my size in-store. Nice.
I'm considering leaving work early to go shopping. Sounds like a good excuse to me.
I know I'm getting old, and that doesn't bother me too much. Nothing I can do about it - out of my control completely. What bothers me is feeling old. That freaks me right the fuck out, to be honest. I know that 39 isn't the end of the world - far from it. I just can't get my head around the fact that I am that age. Me. Not somebody else, but me. I am really making myself ill here, so I'll just go right ahead and say it:
Get over it already, please. Thank you.
So, I got some really nice gifts for my birthday. Things like this. And this. And these (not the legs and ass, dammit to hell, but the shoes).
Happy Birthday to me!
I'm more than a little impressed with how easy it is to get from my neighborhood to downtown Seattle on the Community Transit busses. I was not quite to the bus stop when my bus arrived, and the kind driver took pity on a fat old lady and stopped to pick my ass up. I had started to jog, and consequently my boobs are nowhere near sitting in my bra properly, and it's beginning to get a little uncomfortable - but I'll discuss the current bra situation a bit later.
ANYway... the bus? Not so bad, really. It's particularly nice that I don't have to be at work at any specific time, since at this very moment the bus I'm waiting on is late. Ahem.
~deb :o)
My children have become the Curse Police. My fine is a slap on the hand. I'd like to say, for the record: Big Fucking Deal, Ladies.
I don't want to upset them, but I can't help it sometimes. Often, I swear just to bug them. When Kierstin says, "MOM! You said the A-word!" my response is nearly always, "You mean ASS!!?", which irritates her. Heh.
I'm way to immature to be anyone's mother.
So, the new job. Yay, hooray, and...
Holy. Fuck.
I've been here a week, and have already been assigned a huge task in the current project (due end-of-month, no less), and have been asked to lead the next project. Seriously, I wanted to run away screaming on the 3rd day. Back to Nebraska, even. Damn them for not asking me to stay sooner!
So, the folks here are really nice. I'm now working with a guy I've worked with before (he's the reason I got this job, truthfully), and some other genuinely decent folks. I share an office with a nice lady who chews gum. The way our desks are arranged, my choices were to a) have her staring at the back of my head, and my computer monitors, all day, or b) face the windows, with her in my peripheral vision (rather distracting, as it turns out) and my back to the open office door. I chose the back-to-the-door option. I've installed a rear-view mirror so as to have at least some chance of not being scared out of my chair every time someone walks into the office, but that's been about as effective as I thought it would be. Read: not very. I'm sure that once I get used to the glare in the mornings, and learn to tune out my office-mate, things will be rosy.
I think this job will work out, as long as my friend Rob keeps me busy on the side. He's a little pissed at me for taking the full-time position, but I really don't give two shits right about now. If I did what he wants all the time, I'd be traveling all the time, and that's not happening.
I am so out of control it's not even a little bit funny.
I have a compulsive spending problem that I'm supposed to be mastering, and it's not working out so well at the moment. If I added up the money that I've spent in the last 48 hours, it would probably make me throw up. I keep telling myself that I'll be good next month - it's ok because I have the money. Yeah, right now I have the money - but in another 2 months when the checks stop rolling in from my Nebraska gig, and my ginormous salary decrease strolls up and kicks me in the ass, I'm going to be wishing I'd been more careful.
Last weekend I got Paul to agree to getting a new mattress - ours is about 15 years old. It wasn't an easy sell, because he's a whole lot more responsible than I am, and he sees what's coming in our immediate financial future, and he doesn't want to spend any more money than is absolutely necessary. I'm quite certain that I've spent enough to buy two mattresses, plus box springs, and a couple of sets of really high thread-count sheets. And a cashmere throw. Or two. And if he knew about it, I might just end up divorced.
I really need to get a grip, here. Maybe I need therapy - and NOT the retail kind!
I didn't think it would be this bad, this soon. My last day in Omaha is Thursday, August 2nd. I'm officially at the end of this project. I'm not necessarily happy, but I'm not necessarily sad either. I guess ambivilent is a good word.
I like the people here - very much. In fact, I have a little nerd-crush on one of the guys I'm working with, and I'd probably marry one of the others if he'd have me. All 4 of the guys have been really great and fun to work with, and I'm nearly equally fond of all of them (except for the whole lust factor with my nerd-crush boy). I'm a little sad that I'm leaving them. But, it's Omaha. Nebraska. Flat, dry, humid, nasty Nebraska. Blech. Makes me want to go home to the lovely, green, temperate Pacific Northwest.
I like the project. It's been relatively easy, and they've been impressed with how well it's gone. Of course, I'm now in the documentation phase, which is my least favorite part. I keep swearing I'm going to do this part sooner, but it never works out that way - too many re-writes to keep track of. So that's making me want to run away.
I miss my kids. Badly. I have to force myself not to think about them, which makes me feel a little cold and heartless, but it's the only way I can get through this. I can't even write about it any more right now. That makes me want to get on a plane - .right. now.
I have a new job waiting for me - but the pay SUCKS. Yes, that's in all-caps for a reason. Truly, it's scary. I'm taking a massive cut in pay. Massive. Like, nearly 50%. Yeah, you read that right. A cut the likes of which I can't wrap my little brain around. I understand the trade-off - I get to be home all the time. Problem is, I also have to take on side projects to prevent turning off things like satellite service and internet access. And eliminating everything else in our lives that isn't a utility, house payment, or groceries. Oh, and credit card payments. Yikes.
So, I'm torn. I like the money that comes with being a contractor, but not the gamble that involves traveling to regions of the country best left to corncobs and people who regularly spell the name of their state backwards to moniker their buildings and businesses.
Few things about me have changed over the course of my adult life. I've always been tall, I've always had red hair and blue eyes, and ample breasts. I've always disliked the disproportionate amount of real estate between my top lip and the bottom of my nose (it makes an odd shadow in photos if I'm not lit well), and I've always wished I had some color to my eyebrows and eyelashes. And, I've always been lazy.
My body was saved from the effects of that laziness by sports in High School. I played both Volleyball and Basketball, which kept me in good enough shape to breakfast every morning at the Circle-K with my friend Danielle on chocolate milk (Hershey's, of course) and most often a doughnut - glazed, old fashioned. Of course, that was when I had a metabolism.
I'd say that the years have not been kind to me, but I really have no one to blame but myself. I never lost the amazing amount of weight I gained with Madison in the 2 years before I got pregnant with Kierstin, and since then I've added to the number significantly. I've completely stopped doing anything that involves raising my pulse rate above it's normal "resting" rate, which is nearing triple-digits, I'm sure. My point is this: Things in Debville are not pretty - not even remotely.
I mention all of these things because, despite the sad state of my body, something very strange happened yesterday. I got hit on by a total stranger, and it's confusing me something awful.
It started yesterday morning when I was at the drive-through at Taco Bell for breakfast. God, that looks pathetic - that sentence. I truthfully never eat Taco Bell for breakfast, but I was totally late for work, and it was the only thing in my path. Anyway... as I'm sitting there, looking in the window, there was a guy standing at the counter waiting for his food, wearing a hard-hat. He looked at me, and I smiled - nothing special, just the same smile I give everyone who I make accidental eye-contact with. I looked the other way. When I looked back, he was looking at me still. My first thought was "what's on my face", and I had to stifle the urge to check in the rear view mirror. Out of curiosity, I looked again - still looking at me and smiling. Odd. As he left, he crossed in front of my car, and smiled at me the whole time, then kept looking back at me. I know because I was watching in the side mirror. Shut up. Totally strange, as he was probably not more than about 25, and I'm old and fat. Whatever - there's no accounting for taste. Moving on.
Later that evening I went to a place called Granite City Food & Brewery for dinner. I ordered my favorite salad to go (Honey Rosemary Tenderloin and Focaccia - no tomatoes or onions) and proceeded out to the car to wait (Harry Potter audio book that I can't hardly tear myself away from). About 10 minutes later, I went inside to wait for my dinner. I sat on a bench, and noticed 3 men hanging out waiting to be taken to their table. Two of them had the same shirt on - something about road support on the back, Property of Boston - the band emblem - on the front. The third was wearing jeans and a button-up shirt. I looked at him, and he was looking at me, smiling. I smiled back, then turned my head to see the score of the Baseball game. I had the feeling that he was still looking at me, so I looked, and I was right. I smiled at him again. The hostess then started walking them to their table - in the direction of the TV I was looking at - and he turned around and smiled at me and gave me the eyebrows. I smiled, because that's just silly, and he kept staring at me until he went around the corner. Whatever.
At that point, my salad arrived, and I took it and went out to get in the car. As I was crossing to my car, I heard someone say "Where are you going?" I turned around, and it was the jeans and button up guy. I laughed, and told him I was going to have dinner. He told me I was welcome to join him and his friends, so I lied and said I had to go back to work. At that point he crossed the parking lane, and I got a little nervous. (He was only probably about 5'5" - maybe less - and kind of stocky, but I decided I could kick him in the nuts if things looked to go south). He was very nice, didn't try to touch me or anything, but it was just STRANGE. He told me I was a "very pretty lady" - I thanked him and told him that I was also a very married lady. "DANG! Oh, well." I told him to have a nice evening, and he started to cross back to the restaurant, when he stopped and asked me where I work. I lied again, and he went inside. Ummmm... ok.
This is not, I repeat, NOT, a normal occurrence in my life. When I was younger and much thinner, it happened every once in a while, but not every day or anything. It probably should have made my day, but it left me scratching my head more than anything. I mean, I had day-old hair and my glasses on. I was dressed for work in slacks and a white shirt - nothing revealing or sexy. I have no idea what it was all about. I'm still confused.
In retrospect, perhaps first class wasn't the best idea in the world. Don't get me wrong - the experience was lovely. The only bad thing was that the seat wasn't all that comfortable as far as my back was concerned, but the rest was wonderful to the point that I'm never going to be able to fly coach again. Between the legroom, the lack of shoulder-rubbing with my seat-mate, and the additional ass-room, I'll never go back. Add the little cup of warm nuts and a real glass for my drink, and it's like airborne crack. The food still wasn't great, but I got a warm towel to wash my hands with before I ate, and a lovely cloth napkin to prevent drippage - and my expectations for the food quality weren't all that high anyways.
I finally arrived in Omaha at about 2am - and the rental car counter was closed. After much frustration with Hotwire, I ended up renting a car for the night. I have to go pick up my real rental sometime before 9 tonight, which sucks because at Eppley Field, the rental car pickup and the rental car counter are about a mile away from each other. So, I have to return my current rental, hike into the terminal to rent another vehicle, then hike back out to where the car is and pick it up. Maybe I'll play dumb and just go up to the counter outside and act all pissy if the try and make me go inside. It worked with Budget last week. Heh.
I'm officially NOT looking forward to work for the next 2 weeks. My original project is complete, for the most part, except for one problematic element which I have to deal with in my spare time this week, which probably means 10 to 12 hour days. And I'm a little afraid of the project they're resourcing me on for this two weeks - it's big and ugly, and they just let one of the developers go on Friday because she wasn't getting the job done. I'm a little suspicious that they were counting on me being available longer than I've turned out to be, but that's probably just a little bit of ego rearing it's ugly head. Anyway, I'm not sure what I'm going to be able to accomplish in 2 weeks, but we'll see today.
I am way too old to stay up all night OR sleep on the floor.
I'm sitting in the Seattle airport at the moment, waiting for my last flight to Omaha... which is delayed 2 hours. I'm cursing at myself for not signing up for those text message updates from United. I could've had 2 more hours with the girls. Oh well. The good news happens to be that my connecting flight from Denver to Omaha is also delayed 2 hours, so I don't have to rebook or spend the night in Denver. I'm currently on hold with someone at Hotwire, who is verifying that my flight is, in fact, delayed. Apparently they don't just believe you when you call them. Whatever.
Today is Madison's 11th birthday. I flew home on Friday morning, because part of her birthday present was the "Wizard's Camp-In" at Seattle Science Center. We spent Friday night wandering around inside the Science Center, doing what they considered to be wizard-y activities. The new Harry Potter book released at midnight, and Mad stayed up until about 3:30 reading. They woke us up at 6:30 on Saturday morning to watch the Order of the Phoenix movie in the IMAX theatre, then promptly kicked us out. It was fun, I guess, but I had to resort to guerrilla parenting tactics by introducing Mad to a girl her own age to run around with, and foisting her on that poor girl for the staying up all night portion of the program. There was no way in hell I was going to make it much past midnight. I'm an old lady.
These weekend trips home have been good and bad. They're so short, so I feel like there's not enough time to deal with everyone who needs my attention. I can make Paul happy just by sleeping with him, so he's pretty easy. He says he has a hard time sleeping when I'm not there, but I can't see how that's true due to my snoring problem of the last few years. The girls are just starved for attention, and 48 hours doesn't seem to be enough to keep them from being moody and odd when I'm there. They feel like they have to compete for my attention. Kierstin was worse this time, because I spent so much time with Mad at the camp-in - she was practically hysterical when I got out at the airport.
I think we're all glad this is the last trip. In honor of it being the end, I upgraded myself to first class for today's flights, and I'll do the same for my flights home if given the option. I'm worth it.
As I sit here in lovely Omaha, Nebraska, here's what I'm thinking:
- Wow. I can't believe Beth is about to have a baby. It would have been nice to be around while she was going through all of the fun stuff, and the not-so-fun stuff. Not that I would have been around that much, I suppose. I kind of miss Sacramento sometimes.
- The Nebraska judge's ruling regarding the banning of the word RAPE during a rape trial, which I just heard about on the news this evening, has left me, quite frankly, speechless. I can't even hardly produce a coherent thought on the subject. Makes me wonder what skeleton is in his closet that would prompt such a ruling. The word that keeps coming to mind is... why?
- I'm glad that I'm not going to have to spend a week in Utah this summer. While I'm sad that I'm not going to be hanging out with the girls and hubby that week, I'm very happy that I'm not going to have to swelter in the heat at the lake for hours on end.
- Why is it that the people who are supposed to pay me can't get their shit together and do it on time? And when I call to find out what the holdup is, instead of telling me the truth (I'm a big girl, I can handle it) they avoid my calls and don't return my emails. I'm sorry you're not getting paid, but that's SO not my issue. Pay me according to the terms of our contract, you sorry, simple bastards!
- I don't take enough pictures any more. I have a fancy digital camera, and the last thing I took photos of was the geese on the roof of the neighbor's house.
- I'm going to Kansas City (Kansas City here I come!) this weekend. I have no idea why I'm going to Kansas City this weekend, except that it isn't Omaha. I'm staying at the Westin, in a Park Suite, though I have no idea what, exactly, that means. I'm hoping for a really big bathtub. My only plans are to see the new Harry Potter movie and lose at least half of my next paycheck at the blackjack tables at Ameristar.
- I need new shoes. Why do all of my summer shoes smell bad already?
- When the hell does the next Project Runway start?? Soon???
- tired
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