I had a bad day at work today. I'm not going to say much beyond that, because, well, that's just not smart for someone who is trying to not lose her job. And I went to bed early, hoping that sleep would take the bad day away. But as I am laying there, trying to sleep, my mind keeps spinning. And I keep thinking about all the other bad days I've had at work in the past 5 1/2 years. The apologies I have been forced to make that I now regret with all my being, the times when I opened my mouth when I shoudn't have, the other times when I opened my mouth when I shoudn't have. Not because I was wrong, but because some people just couldn't take what a little girl like me had to say.
So I am laying there, wishing for sleep, hoping for sleep, praying for sleep, to take away the bad day. Because I am sick of thinking about all the other bad days. And then Workaholic starts to "breathe heavily". And that just tops my bad day. I can't fall asleep with that kind of noise in the room. I know that everyone has a boss, and not everyone gets along with their boss, and everyone has to deal with their boss. It really sucks when you have four. I wish I could go in and do my job and not have to deal with four bosses. I wish I had not had a bad day today. I wish I could just go to sleep.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
Exhaling-A Bitch About Crappy Weather
Pamela over at 2MuchTestosterone has issued a new meme, one I think I’m going to love. In short, bitch just because it’s Monday. OR, brag about your weekend on Monday. Here’s the thing…I’m going to bitch today.
I’ll be short and sweet. It fucking rained and was cold all weekend. Which is crap. I spend all week cooped up in a tiny little cubicle surrounded by insane people, (I love you all!) and when the weekend comes, I want to take the dog for a walk with the kid in the stroller and get outside and DO SOMETHING. As opposed to spending $50 at Target on Easter candy. (BTW, doesn’t Easter have THE BEST candy?? It just blows Halloween out of the water.) And then, AND THEN, I go looking for the peanut butter eggs that I’ve been inhaling at work, courtesy of someone else, and I CAN’T FIND THEM. WHY DOES GOD HATE ME???
I’ll be short and sweet. It fucking rained and was cold all weekend. Which is crap. I spend all week cooped up in a tiny little cubicle surrounded by insane people, (I love you all!) and when the weekend comes, I want to take the dog for a walk with the kid in the stroller and get outside and DO SOMETHING. As opposed to spending $50 at Target on Easter candy. (BTW, doesn’t Easter have THE BEST candy?? It just blows Halloween out of the water.) And then, AND THEN, I go looking for the peanut butter eggs that I’ve been inhaling at work, courtesy of someone else, and I CAN’T FIND THEM. WHY DOES GOD HATE ME???
OK, I feel better.
Feel free to leave your own complaints or brags about YOUR weekend in comments. Have fun!!
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Another Gosselin Rant
OK, I have something I’ve got to get off my chest. And I know that most people probably disagree with me on this, but just friggin’ hear me out. It’s about Kate Gosselin.
I know, I know. “Kate’s a bitch, Kate’s a terrible mother, no wonder Jon left Kate.” I’ve heard it all. But try to look at things her way. She married young, which is not a crime. She married an idiot who wasn’t mature, also not a crime. (in fact, most people have made many of the same errors…and no one judges them so harshly) It’s not her fault that he didn’t stand up for himself, or quit standing up for himself. There is this little thing called marriage, and being a mature grown-up. When you have 8 kids under the age of 3, yeah, things are going to get tough. But that is when you ask for help and figure shit out.
And so together, TOGETHER, they made decisions. They decided to try for one more child. NO ONE, I REPEAT, NO ONE, thinks they are going to get six kids when they are trying fertility. You might get two or three, but SIX??? So, they decided to go on TV. They decided to buy a new, much larger house. They decided to have Jon stay home while Kate traveled around selling books and making money to support a family of ten. They decided to get not one, but two dogs. And then Jon was like, “Oh wait, I’ve changed, I suddenly realize I’m not like I was when I was 21, I’m not happy anymore.” (BTW...who is like they were when they were 21?) And then it was like he blamed her for everything. And now, she is stuck with an ex-husband who she can’t depend on, a million dollar home on acreage that has to be taken care of, not to mention eight kids.
I’m not saying that marriage and divorce isn’t a 2 way street. Because it totally is. And she had a hand in the failure of her marriage too. But for God’s sake people, give the woman a break!! This is the question that drives me crazy the most…”Who’s watching her kids while she is on Dancing With the Stars?” (aka…while she is making money). I don’t know…How about her ex-husband??? Oh wait, he’s not that helpful, so she has to have a full-time babysitter. Why is not a single person saying, “Where is Jon the five days a week you are home?” and “Why doesn’t Jon come and stay with the kids while you are away two days a week?” Does he even contribute to the household expenses for his kids’ house? Does he go to the grocery store or does he buy things like shampoo and toilet paper? Does he check homework every night?
I hate it when MEN say, “She is such a bitch, she is setting a terrible example for her children.” Umm…are you in her house? Do you see how she deals with them, every day? What about the example Jon is setting for the kids? Dating a 22 year old and hosting Vegas parties and living hours away in New York City? Maybe he deals with them great in the house, when no one is watching, (since he kicked out the TV cameras), but WE don’t know that. WE don’t know how the kids are doing. Don’t just assume that SHE is fucking up the kids. You know, by working. (Which BTW…how the hell is she supposed to support a family of 10 on a nurse’s salary? That is her other option. Don’t judge until you’ve been put in her shoes.)
I just hate the double standard. I fucking hate it. (If Jon was on Dancing With the Stars, no one would even question it. In fact, why isn’t he? What is he doing lately?) The woman is simply a nurse who became a mom who was on TV. She isn’t an actress or a performer or someone who has been in the spotlight all her life or someone who has huge boobs and is making a living based off of that. She is just trying to support her kids. Give her a fucking break.
I know, I know. “Kate’s a bitch, Kate’s a terrible mother, no wonder Jon left Kate.” I’ve heard it all. But try to look at things her way. She married young, which is not a crime. She married an idiot who wasn’t mature, also not a crime. (in fact, most people have made many of the same errors…and no one judges them so harshly) It’s not her fault that he didn’t stand up for himself, or quit standing up for himself. There is this little thing called marriage, and being a mature grown-up. When you have 8 kids under the age of 3, yeah, things are going to get tough. But that is when you ask for help and figure shit out.
And so together, TOGETHER, they made decisions. They decided to try for one more child. NO ONE, I REPEAT, NO ONE, thinks they are going to get six kids when they are trying fertility. You might get two or three, but SIX??? So, they decided to go on TV. They decided to buy a new, much larger house. They decided to have Jon stay home while Kate traveled around selling books and making money to support a family of ten. They decided to get not one, but two dogs. And then Jon was like, “Oh wait, I’ve changed, I suddenly realize I’m not like I was when I was 21, I’m not happy anymore.” (BTW...who is like they were when they were 21?) And then it was like he blamed her for everything. And now, she is stuck with an ex-husband who she can’t depend on, a million dollar home on acreage that has to be taken care of, not to mention eight kids.
I’m not saying that marriage and divorce isn’t a 2 way street. Because it totally is. And she had a hand in the failure of her marriage too. But for God’s sake people, give the woman a break!! This is the question that drives me crazy the most…”Who’s watching her kids while she is on Dancing With the Stars?” (aka…while she is making money). I don’t know…How about her ex-husband??? Oh wait, he’s not that helpful, so she has to have a full-time babysitter. Why is not a single person saying, “Where is Jon the five days a week you are home?” and “Why doesn’t Jon come and stay with the kids while you are away two days a week?” Does he even contribute to the household expenses for his kids’ house? Does he go to the grocery store or does he buy things like shampoo and toilet paper? Does he check homework every night?
I hate it when MEN say, “She is such a bitch, she is setting a terrible example for her children.” Umm…are you in her house? Do you see how she deals with them, every day? What about the example Jon is setting for the kids? Dating a 22 year old and hosting Vegas parties and living hours away in New York City? Maybe he deals with them great in the house, when no one is watching, (since he kicked out the TV cameras), but WE don’t know that. WE don’t know how the kids are doing. Don’t just assume that SHE is fucking up the kids. You know, by working. (Which BTW…how the hell is she supposed to support a family of 10 on a nurse’s salary? That is her other option. Don’t judge until you’ve been put in her shoes.)
I just hate the double standard. I fucking hate it. (If Jon was on Dancing With the Stars, no one would even question it. In fact, why isn’t he? What is he doing lately?) The woman is simply a nurse who became a mom who was on TV. She isn’t an actress or a performer or someone who has been in the spotlight all her life or someone who has huge boobs and is making a living based off of that. She is just trying to support her kids. Give her a fucking break.
Lacking in...
Mama Kat proposed a very interesting writers workshop this week. Ask someone who loves you what one of your weaknesses is. Hmm…OK, so I’ll ask Workaholic, since it’s easiest. I was for sure he was going to say something like motivation or being lazy or having a big mouth. But instead, he has to just stab me in the heart and say self-confidence.
Ouch. OK, to be fair, I completely agree. But that’s the first thing you think of? I suppose it’s all related…what’s the point in having some huge goal when you probably aren’t going to reach it? And if you don’t have a goal, it’s really easy to be lazy. Hmm…he might be on to something here.
My family would probably totally disagree, and be all, “Gail, you are totally confident! You don’t have a problem at all!” I really think they just have this opinion because I have little impulse control around them, so I say what I think, and that could be confused with confidence. I can talk the talk, but not walk the walk.
For example, one time I went with my brother-in-law and his friend to a bar in a random town. I am NOT used to going to bars without a girlfriend where I know NO ONE, in fact, most of the bars I go to, (or at least used to go to) I would like because of the people, not necessarily because it was the awesome place to go. When I was in college, it was the Neon Cactus, and the piano bar, we went so much that the piano man knew us. After college it became this little pub I’d go to in Michigan with my in-laws (because Workaholic was earning his nickname and I was bored).
So we go into this bar and I talked to a couple of girls for about 5 seconds in the very itty bitty teeny tiny small bathroom. About a half hour later, I decided to try to get a dance party going on the empty dance floor. (BTW, I can’t dance.) I apparently thought that these girls and I were now besties since we had said hello, so I go up to one of the girls and was all, “Come on! Let’s dance!” I might’ve even grabbed her hand. And she seriously looks at me and goes, “Do I know you?” You know, with that tone. Ouch. OK, nevermind. I’m pretty sure at that point I started drinking much. more. heavily. So that has nothing to do with confidence, but lack of impulse control that comes with Miller Lite.
I was especially bad at this in high school, when alcohol was only partly to blame. (sorry mom) I shudder to think about how I interacted with some of the boys I dated. All I’m going to say is, “Stalk much?” (OK, I wasn’t a certifiable stalker, but just a little overzealous. I just wanted some attention damnit!) So if any of you ex’s are out there and reading this…especially ones from high school, all I can say is, sorry ‘bout that. I’m really not crazy.
I guess I need to work on this self-confidence thing. I tried once at work, and let’s just say that not only was I thrown under the bus, but it was backed up over me and then the driver got out and pissed on me. So that didn’t help. I try to fake it, like going out to a strange bar in a strange city, but I typically wind up self-judging and comparing myself to all the other girls in the bar. (what is it with girls and competition??) Anyone have any suggestions? Poor little Sam doesn’t need me to pass on my issues…
Ouch. OK, to be fair, I completely agree. But that’s the first thing you think of? I suppose it’s all related…what’s the point in having some huge goal when you probably aren’t going to reach it? And if you don’t have a goal, it’s really easy to be lazy. Hmm…he might be on to something here.
My family would probably totally disagree, and be all, “Gail, you are totally confident! You don’t have a problem at all!” I really think they just have this opinion because I have little impulse control around them, so I say what I think, and that could be confused with confidence. I can talk the talk, but not walk the walk.
For example, one time I went with my brother-in-law and his friend to a bar in a random town. I am NOT used to going to bars without a girlfriend where I know NO ONE, in fact, most of the bars I go to, (or at least used to go to) I would like because of the people, not necessarily because it was the awesome place to go. When I was in college, it was the Neon Cactus, and the piano bar, we went so much that the piano man knew us. After college it became this little pub I’d go to in Michigan with my in-laws (because Workaholic was earning his nickname and I was bored).
So we go into this bar and I talked to a couple of girls for about 5 seconds in the very itty bitty teeny tiny small bathroom. About a half hour later, I decided to try to get a dance party going on the empty dance floor. (BTW, I can’t dance.) I apparently thought that these girls and I were now besties since we had said hello, so I go up to one of the girls and was all, “Come on! Let’s dance!” I might’ve even grabbed her hand. And she seriously looks at me and goes, “Do I know you?” You know, with that tone. Ouch. OK, nevermind. I’m pretty sure at that point I started drinking much. more. heavily. So that has nothing to do with confidence, but lack of impulse control that comes with Miller Lite.
I was especially bad at this in high school, when alcohol was only partly to blame. (sorry mom) I shudder to think about how I interacted with some of the boys I dated. All I’m going to say is, “Stalk much?” (OK, I wasn’t a certifiable stalker, but just a little overzealous. I just wanted some attention damnit!) So if any of you ex’s are out there and reading this…especially ones from high school, all I can say is, sorry ‘bout that. I’m really not crazy.
I guess I need to work on this self-confidence thing. I tried once at work, and let’s just say that not only was I thrown under the bus, but it was backed up over me and then the driver got out and pissed on me. So that didn’t help. I try to fake it, like going out to a strange bar in a strange city, but I typically wind up self-judging and comparing myself to all the other girls in the bar. (what is it with girls and competition??) Anyone have any suggestions? Poor little Sam doesn’t need me to pass on my issues…
Monday, March 22, 2010
Sugar Monster
You know how when you are pregnant that everyone assumes you have crazy cravings, like Mike N Ike’s on a banana sandwich with jelly and pickels as a side? Yeah…not me. I’m such a boring pregnant person that my doctor makes up conversations just to fill up the 10 minute appointment time, (we spent most of my last one talking about snowmobiles and boats) and I honestly think that Workaholic forgets that I am with child half of the time. He never understands why I am so tired all of the time, and if I have an angry outburst he just says, “It’s really too bad that you don’t love me. If you did, you wouldn’t be so mean to me.” (He really knows how to play off of the Catholic guilt) (Then again, if he wouldn’t piss me off, then I wouldn’t have to yell at him! Why can’t he just understand that??)
It has come to my attention that I actually do have a craving. No, it’s not watermelon or pickles or licorice or tea. It’s sugar. Plain and simple. I want sugar. Whether it’s in the form of M&M’s (my current snack of choice), or ice cream bars (when it’s 30 degrees outside) or Fun Dips. I love sugar. I’m afraid this kid is going to come out spinning on its head and demanding to be mainlined a steady stream of pure, white, beautiful sugar cane. (Which, BTW, is brown. Who knew??)
I’ve always loved sugar, when I was a little kid I used to climb up on the countertop and just pour straight sugar into my mouth from the canister. I would use strawberries as an excuse in the summertime to get to eat more sugar. Mmm….sugar. I love it. Sorry to be so boring in my cravings, but at least it’s easy. Workaholic does NOT have to make any midnight trips to Taco Bell, which is probably a good thing. He doesn’t do Mexican so well.
It has come to my attention that I actually do have a craving. No, it’s not watermelon or pickles or licorice or tea. It’s sugar. Plain and simple. I want sugar. Whether it’s in the form of M&M’s (my current snack of choice), or ice cream bars (when it’s 30 degrees outside) or Fun Dips. I love sugar. I’m afraid this kid is going to come out spinning on its head and demanding to be mainlined a steady stream of pure, white, beautiful sugar cane. (Which, BTW, is brown. Who knew??)
I’ve always loved sugar, when I was a little kid I used to climb up on the countertop and just pour straight sugar into my mouth from the canister. I would use strawberries as an excuse in the summertime to get to eat more sugar. Mmm….sugar. I love it. Sorry to be so boring in my cravings, but at least it’s easy. Workaholic does NOT have to make any midnight trips to Taco Bell, which is probably a good thing. He doesn’t do Mexican so well.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Wordless Wednesday - Happy St. Patrick's Day!!!
First attempt at a photo...too early in the morning...
Sam and Fonz, this could be the best picture yet I have of the two of them...
HAPPY ST. PATTY'S DAY!!!!!
I Wanna Win!!
I am not a winner. Traditionally speaking. The sports teams that I was on never won any championships, when I enter raffles, I don’t win, and the most I’ve ever won on a scratch-off ticket is $2. Not exactly a windfall. So I really am not getting my hopes up on this one, but I’m giving it a shot.
And Sam LOVES it. She crawls through it and giggles and rolls around and generally has a lovely time. So go to Pamela’s blog, enter to win, and if you win, you can give it to me. (this is the last day to enter, so if you want to, GET ON IT!) Or, I guess, you could keep it for yourself. If you want to be selfish like that.
My friend Pamela in Florida is hosting a give-a-way on her blog. It’s for one of those adorable little pup tents for little kids to play in.
How fun is that?? I recently bought this at Target for around $15. I think I actually stole it, because their website says it is supposed to be $29.99.
And Sam LOVES it. She crawls through it and giggles and rolls around and generally has a lovely time. So go to Pamela’s blog, enter to win, and if you win, you can give it to me. (this is the last day to enter, so if you want to, GET ON IT!) Or, I guess, you could keep it for yourself. If you want to be selfish like that.
Monday, March 15, 2010
I'm a Mom!
It’s happened. It’s true. I am a typical parent. Sigh. I just didn’t think it would happen this soon. (Yes, Sam is 14 months old and I am 17 weeks along with our second. But still.)
When I was pregnant the first time around, and we realized that not only did we need a bigger car, but needed a minivan, Workaholic would always tease me that I would be the soccer mom with French fries under the seat. And that the car would smell funny. I vehemently denied that this would be me, and the first time we ate McDonalds on the way to the lake, he dropped a fry and I went all bug-eyed Psycho crazy on him. So imagine my horror when, yesterday, he pulled forward the middle seat so our friend could get in the back, and there was a baby bottle underneath. Not just any bottle, but a half-full bottle of milk. That had curdled!! Eww!!!
Oh the embarrassment!! And to happen in front of friends too!! Who will just mock me relentlessly for the next year!! I now want to take all the seats out of the van and vacuum it and clean the carpets. We did get those Weather Tech floor mats, (which were a savior BTW), so really, the only part of the carpet that needs to be cleaned is the spots under the seat, where I spilled curdled milk.
Since I am now a typical mom, I’ll give you a Samantha update: She was 19lbs, 12 oz (nope…not yet 20lbs!) at her last appointment a couple of weeks ago, which was for a double ear infection. She was pulling at her ear yesterday, which means absolutely nothing because she has never once done that when she actually had an ear infection. The signs last time? She slept for 19 hours straight and just didn’t seem like herself. No fever. No ear pulling. No head tilt or other various ticks. She had a runny nose, if that even counts for a child that goes to daycare. The only reason we got in to see the doctor as quick as we did is because Workaholic lied to the nurse on the phone and said that she’d had a fever for a couple of days. Hey, it worked!
She now knows how to run, and walk backwards. That is her newest trick that she likes to show off. She also has the first half of blowing kisses down. And, the best part, she is finally showing an interest in Fonz. She’ll randomly walk up to him and pet him, and look at us and smile real big, since she is “being nice.” She also tries to throw his toys for him, she knows which ones are his, and will pick one up and drop it in front of her. (For his part, he typically ignores this, because really? That just isn’t exciting enough for him.) For a child who will whip anything across the room from her high chair, I know she can do better, so we’re working on it. We decided that Fonz is roughly the size of a horse compared to her, so when she occasionally covers her face or goes running when he comes near, we sort of understand. She’s been knocked on her ass a fair number of times.
That’s about all I know. Oh wait…we did have an open house yesterday, a couple of people seemed interested, so we’ll see if that goes anywhere. Again, not getting my hopes up, except I am. I think I am going to spend the rest of my day debating whether to eat the Fannie May candy bars (yes, plural) I just bought, or the peanut butter cup cupcake my friend brought me. Pretty sure the cupcake will win out.
When I was pregnant the first time around, and we realized that not only did we need a bigger car, but needed a minivan, Workaholic would always tease me that I would be the soccer mom with French fries under the seat. And that the car would smell funny. I vehemently denied that this would be me, and the first time we ate McDonalds on the way to the lake, he dropped a fry and I went all bug-eyed Psycho crazy on him. So imagine my horror when, yesterday, he pulled forward the middle seat so our friend could get in the back, and there was a baby bottle underneath. Not just any bottle, but a half-full bottle of milk. That had curdled!! Eww!!!
Oh the embarrassment!! And to happen in front of friends too!! Who will just mock me relentlessly for the next year!! I now want to take all the seats out of the van and vacuum it and clean the carpets. We did get those Weather Tech floor mats, (which were a savior BTW), so really, the only part of the carpet that needs to be cleaned is the spots under the seat, where I spilled curdled milk.
Since I am now a typical mom, I’ll give you a Samantha update: She was 19lbs, 12 oz (nope…not yet 20lbs!) at her last appointment a couple of weeks ago, which was for a double ear infection. She was pulling at her ear yesterday, which means absolutely nothing because she has never once done that when she actually had an ear infection. The signs last time? She slept for 19 hours straight and just didn’t seem like herself. No fever. No ear pulling. No head tilt or other various ticks. She had a runny nose, if that even counts for a child that goes to daycare. The only reason we got in to see the doctor as quick as we did is because Workaholic lied to the nurse on the phone and said that she’d had a fever for a couple of days. Hey, it worked!
She now knows how to run, and walk backwards. That is her newest trick that she likes to show off. She also has the first half of blowing kisses down. And, the best part, she is finally showing an interest in Fonz. She’ll randomly walk up to him and pet him, and look at us and smile real big, since she is “being nice.” She also tries to throw his toys for him, she knows which ones are his, and will pick one up and drop it in front of her. (For his part, he typically ignores this, because really? That just isn’t exciting enough for him.) For a child who will whip anything across the room from her high chair, I know she can do better, so we’re working on it. We decided that Fonz is roughly the size of a horse compared to her, so when she occasionally covers her face or goes running when he comes near, we sort of understand. She’s been knocked on her ass a fair number of times.
That’s about all I know. Oh wait…we did have an open house yesterday, a couple of people seemed interested, so we’ll see if that goes anywhere. Again, not getting my hopes up, except I am. I think I am going to spend the rest of my day debating whether to eat the Fannie May candy bars (yes, plural) I just bought, or the peanut butter cup cupcake my friend brought me. Pretty sure the cupcake will win out.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
11 Years Young
Everyone who knows me knows that I am a dog person. I like all animals, (maybe with the exception of amphibians and rodents) but particularly dogs. And I especially like MY dog. All my neighbors know him, even the Muslim kids who live down the street and are taught that it is against God’s will to have dogs in the house, even they love my dog. When you walk into my garage, to the right of the door that leads into the house hangs 3-4 leashes, of various lengths and colors. In my car, there is usually 1 or 2 more leashes, depending on the day and the need. And when you walk into the house, there is a 6-pronged, wrought iron Golden Retriever hanging on the wall behind the door with about 10 more leashes and collars and doggie seatbelts hanging. Just waiting to be used. Begging to be used.
Workaholic hasn’t been working full-time lately, and has been spending his days with Sam and the Fonz. So I thought nothing of it when I made a grooming appointment for Fonz and told Workaholic that it was his responsibility to drop him off and pick him up. I guess this is how it went down…
Workaholic realizes that he has exactly 20 minutes to get the girl up, feed her, change her, dress her, and get her out the door. She was going to baby school while Workaholic spent time in his company’s warehouse. Cleaning. And organizing. Which doesn’t happen very often at home. (although ironically, it did this morning!) So he is running around, much like a chicken with his head cut off, and opens the door and asks Fonz, “Wanna go for a ride in the car?” That’s all you have to say, and Fonz leaps into the car, without regard for the fact that he isn’t wearing a collar. (doesn’t he know better??) And Workaholic throws Sam in the car seat and zooms to the groomers.
As he pulls in, he realizes that shit, he has no leash. And the dog is not even wearing a collar. So he uses his CELL PHONE CHARGER to get Fonz into the building. You know, that plastic, curly-Q’d wire thingy? Just wrapped it around his neck and told him to behave. Not quite sure how many odd looks he got, but he DID realize that he wasn’t going home, and would need something to use when he picked up the dog a few hours later. So he proceeds to spend $20 on a nice, long black leather leash. Because I have a nice long BROWN leather leash, but not a black one. At least he tries not to duplicate.
When he goes to pick Fonz up a few hours later, he asks the receptionist how well-behaved Fonz was. Because, he told her, “He can get a little excited and wound up, and you can’t calm him down.” (OK, WE can, but most people just do things to get him even more excited, like talk to him IN A REALLY LOUD HIGH-PITCHED SQUEAKY VOICE LIKE HE IS A BABY. By the way…that doesn’t work.) She says, and I quote, “Well that’s quite understandable for a puppy.” HA! A puppy?? He’s 10 years old!! Workaholic just looked at her, and smiled and said, “Yes, that is understandable for a puppy, but he is 11 years old.” (OK, to be fair, he isn’t 11 yet, he will be in September. But 11 is much closer to 10 ½ than a puppy.) Needless to say, she didn’t believe him, even as he was walking out the door. Oh well. That makes me feel good. Six years of fish oil pills and glucosamine/chondroitin/MSM supplements are starting to pay off. Even if Fonz does have a pink nose and completely white face, and stained, yellow teeth.
When Fonz was younger, and I would leave him with my in-laws or my parents for a weekend or longer while we went on vacation, I got sighs and looks of “Are you insane?” when I would describe the feeding ritual to them. They laughed at me, and said that I was babying him and pampering him. They said that he was treated better than they were. But now I have this beautiful, healthy, vibrant, 10 ½ year old Golden, and they are eating their words. Ha! (We are going to ignore the fact that good genes probably play a pretty big role in all of this, I just like to be right.)
Workaholic hasn’t been working full-time lately, and has been spending his days with Sam and the Fonz. So I thought nothing of it when I made a grooming appointment for Fonz and told Workaholic that it was his responsibility to drop him off and pick him up. I guess this is how it went down…
Workaholic realizes that he has exactly 20 minutes to get the girl up, feed her, change her, dress her, and get her out the door. She was going to baby school while Workaholic spent time in his company’s warehouse. Cleaning. And organizing. Which doesn’t happen very often at home. (although ironically, it did this morning!) So he is running around, much like a chicken with his head cut off, and opens the door and asks Fonz, “Wanna go for a ride in the car?” That’s all you have to say, and Fonz leaps into the car, without regard for the fact that he isn’t wearing a collar. (doesn’t he know better??) And Workaholic throws Sam in the car seat and zooms to the groomers.
As he pulls in, he realizes that shit, he has no leash. And the dog is not even wearing a collar. So he uses his CELL PHONE CHARGER to get Fonz into the building. You know, that plastic, curly-Q’d wire thingy? Just wrapped it around his neck and told him to behave. Not quite sure how many odd looks he got, but he DID realize that he wasn’t going home, and would need something to use when he picked up the dog a few hours later. So he proceeds to spend $20 on a nice, long black leather leash. Because I have a nice long BROWN leather leash, but not a black one. At least he tries not to duplicate.
When he goes to pick Fonz up a few hours later, he asks the receptionist how well-behaved Fonz was. Because, he told her, “He can get a little excited and wound up, and you can’t calm him down.” (OK, WE can, but most people just do things to get him even more excited, like talk to him IN A REALLY LOUD HIGH-PITCHED SQUEAKY VOICE LIKE HE IS A BABY. By the way…that doesn’t work.) She says, and I quote, “Well that’s quite understandable for a puppy.” HA! A puppy?? He’s 10 years old!! Workaholic just looked at her, and smiled and said, “Yes, that is understandable for a puppy, but he is 11 years old.” (OK, to be fair, he isn’t 11 yet, he will be in September. But 11 is much closer to 10 ½ than a puppy.) Needless to say, she didn’t believe him, even as he was walking out the door. Oh well. That makes me feel good. Six years of fish oil pills and glucosamine/chondroitin/MSM supplements are starting to pay off. Even if Fonz does have a pink nose and completely white face, and stained, yellow teeth.
When Fonz was younger, and I would leave him with my in-laws or my parents for a weekend or longer while we went on vacation, I got sighs and looks of “Are you insane?” when I would describe the feeding ritual to them. They laughed at me, and said that I was babying him and pampering him. They said that he was treated better than they were. But now I have this beautiful, healthy, vibrant, 10 ½ year old Golden, and they are eating their words. Ha! (We are going to ignore the fact that good genes probably play a pretty big role in all of this, I just like to be right.)
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Entertain Me, Damnit!
Dear internet,
I’m sorry to report that I have come to your end. I just can’t find anything else interesting to look at. I mean, I have my blogs I check every day, and I click on the animal rescue site and the breast cancer research site every day to help feed animals and fund mammograms. I check the weather, and the news, and my e-mail. I peruse petfinder and various rescue websites. If I am really desperate, I’ll look for breeders for Golden Retrievers and Flat-Coat Retrievers. (Which, BTW, there are NO flat-coat breeders close to me…can you do anything about that?) I occasionally look for recipes, and look at the caffeine content of my drinks and shop for clothes online. I balance my checkbook and stalk the Bank of America website to see how much Workaholic has spent at The Home Depot today. Isn’t there anything else you can offer me, internet? I am bored.
Love,Gail
I’m sorry to report that I have come to your end. I just can’t find anything else interesting to look at. I mean, I have my blogs I check every day, and I click on the animal rescue site and the breast cancer research site every day to help feed animals and fund mammograms. I check the weather, and the news, and my e-mail. I peruse petfinder and various rescue websites. If I am really desperate, I’ll look for breeders for Golden Retrievers and Flat-Coat Retrievers. (Which, BTW, there are NO flat-coat breeders close to me…can you do anything about that?) I occasionally look for recipes, and look at the caffeine content of my drinks and shop for clothes online. I balance my checkbook and stalk the Bank of America website to see how much Workaholic has spent at The Home Depot today. Isn’t there anything else you can offer me, internet? I am bored.
Love,Gail
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Monday, March 8, 2010
Working on It
So on paper, I’m not exactly anything special…I work full-time, not too far from home, my husband works full-time, (sort of) and I have a kid and a dog. We own our own house in a great, if not in an expensive-to-live-in neighborhood; we have a car payment and bills just like everyone else. I don’t have money troubles because one or both of us has been laid off, my kid is perfect and healthy, the dog is the easiest in the world to take care of, and my husband and I have a great marriage. We communicate well, and I think that helps to make everything so. much. easier.
Like many other working moms, I have a laundry list of things that I want to accomplish. It includes things like laundry and making dinner, to cleaning out closets and packing away clothes that won’t ever fit me again, to updating my blog and making it pretty and more user-friendly. One would think with the amount of time I spend in front of a computer at work I’d be able to figure out the blog thing, but it’s just past me right now. In fact, most of my duties are past me right now. Which is weird to me, because, on paper, I am nothing special. There is absolutely no reason I should be feeling down, or sad, or frustrated and angry…I am just like everyone else out there.
All day, as I sit at work, I stew over what I could be doing at home. I talk with the other moms of little kids, and they talk about what their kids are learning and what they are teaching them and how. And I think, “If I had more time.” (and I only have 1 kid…my sisters each have 4!) It’s the little things and the small bits of time that you spend with your child, I know…while teaching puppy kindergarten we would explain to people that 10 minutes of training a day is all it takes. And it is all they can handle. Kids are a lot like puppies that way. But I struggle to spend that little bit of time.
Workaholic thinks that I have S.A.D., or Seasonal Affective Disorder. It’s when the winter blues really get you down. I try to explain to him that I am depressed in the summer too…so I don’t think it is just S.A.D. I don’t make a secret of my belief in medication or talk therapy to help get people through the hard times. Let’s just say that Workaholic wishes I wasn’t so vocal about it. He thinks my business is our business…not everyone else’s. Which I guess makes sense…but if one person opens their mind a little bit more to meds and therapy and it helps, and it is because of me…well, that would make me feel good. (He also thinks it's worse in my head than in real like...which is funny, because isn't it all in my head??)
So let’s just say that I’ve been having a bit of a hard time lately. Getting even the simplest of tasks done wipes me out, and tackling the bigger ones is just beyond what I am able to handle at this moment. UNLESS I am given a deadline. It’s like when you are in college and your boyfriend breaks up with you and you just want to lay down in bed and cry…but you have a psyche paper due. And if you don’t turn in said psyche paper, you will get kicked out of your major, or out of school. I need a deadline like that. I was really hoping that we’d sell our house and that would be the needed kick in the pants, but so far, that hasn’t happened. But that doesn’t stop me from wishing and dreaming.
I wish I was that person who rolled out of bed and jumped up and said “HELLO DAY!” But I’m not. I wish I was that person who smiled at everyone in the hallway, even when crying inside. But I’m not. I tend to wear my emotions on my sleeve, unless it is for a short enough amount of time I can act my way through it. So, those of you in my real life, if I haven’t talked to you in a while, I’m just tired. So, so tired. And I’m just trying to figure out how to get out of this funk. The guilt that I haven’t talked to anyone, really, outside of work kills me sometimes. So I need to get over that, because that just makes things worse. But I’m working on it…I’m working on getting better. And for Workaholic’s sake, I’ll just leave it at that
Like many other working moms, I have a laundry list of things that I want to accomplish. It includes things like laundry and making dinner, to cleaning out closets and packing away clothes that won’t ever fit me again, to updating my blog and making it pretty and more user-friendly. One would think with the amount of time I spend in front of a computer at work I’d be able to figure out the blog thing, but it’s just past me right now. In fact, most of my duties are past me right now. Which is weird to me, because, on paper, I am nothing special. There is absolutely no reason I should be feeling down, or sad, or frustrated and angry…I am just like everyone else out there.
All day, as I sit at work, I stew over what I could be doing at home. I talk with the other moms of little kids, and they talk about what their kids are learning and what they are teaching them and how. And I think, “If I had more time.” (and I only have 1 kid…my sisters each have 4!) It’s the little things and the small bits of time that you spend with your child, I know…while teaching puppy kindergarten we would explain to people that 10 minutes of training a day is all it takes. And it is all they can handle. Kids are a lot like puppies that way. But I struggle to spend that little bit of time.
Workaholic thinks that I have S.A.D., or Seasonal Affective Disorder. It’s when the winter blues really get you down. I try to explain to him that I am depressed in the summer too…so I don’t think it is just S.A.D. I don’t make a secret of my belief in medication or talk therapy to help get people through the hard times. Let’s just say that Workaholic wishes I wasn’t so vocal about it. He thinks my business is our business…not everyone else’s. Which I guess makes sense…but if one person opens their mind a little bit more to meds and therapy and it helps, and it is because of me…well, that would make me feel good. (He also thinks it's worse in my head than in real like...which is funny, because isn't it all in my head??)
So let’s just say that I’ve been having a bit of a hard time lately. Getting even the simplest of tasks done wipes me out, and tackling the bigger ones is just beyond what I am able to handle at this moment. UNLESS I am given a deadline. It’s like when you are in college and your boyfriend breaks up with you and you just want to lay down in bed and cry…but you have a psyche paper due. And if you don’t turn in said psyche paper, you will get kicked out of your major, or out of school. I need a deadline like that. I was really hoping that we’d sell our house and that would be the needed kick in the pants, but so far, that hasn’t happened. But that doesn’t stop me from wishing and dreaming.
I wish I was that person who rolled out of bed and jumped up and said “HELLO DAY!” But I’m not. I wish I was that person who smiled at everyone in the hallway, even when crying inside. But I’m not. I tend to wear my emotions on my sleeve, unless it is for a short enough amount of time I can act my way through it. So, those of you in my real life, if I haven’t talked to you in a while, I’m just tired. So, so tired. And I’m just trying to figure out how to get out of this funk. The guilt that I haven’t talked to anyone, really, outside of work kills me sometimes. So I need to get over that, because that just makes things worse. But I’m working on it…I’m working on getting better. And for Workaholic’s sake, I’ll just leave it at that
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
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