July 15, 2009

It's been 21 days since my return to the blog and I've posted exactly one thing. Sounds about right. I'm slacking...and apparently cheating. I just tried posting a comment to a WordPress blog (this is what my life has come to) and it turns out that I have an account there too. And it turns out that I was as committed to WordPress as I seem to be to BlogSpot. I made exactly one post there on July 15, 2009, but it was kind of funny and I remember it as clearly as yesterday - perhaps more clearly than yesterday, which great news for my Alzheimer's that two neurologists say I don't have. I'll share the old post here, mostly because it buys me another few days before I have to type out an original. Here goes...

Here I am. Starting my own blog. What a riot. Who am I? I suppose you'd like to know but I have such a hard time describing myself. I'm a mother, a working mother, a career woman, a wife, a friend...none of those words - together or separate - none of them do me justice (if I may say so myself).  These descriptions connect me to the existence of others. Is that really how I want to be described?  Don't think so...even if my son is the most adorable child in the entire world.

Rather than trying to come up with some snazzy words that describe how fantastic I am, I might just share tiny excerpts of my life with the hope of eventually finding a description that suits me. I suppose that's my objective for this blog. To answer the question: Who am I?

Given that it's 10:57am, I haven't accomplished that much today but I suppose I have a few minor happenings that are worthy of noting.

My day should have started out just right. Wednesday is my husband's day to get our son up and fed, and its my day to get ready in peace. I'm not sure I fully realized the extent to which I would be required to multi-task once I became a parent. I'm one year in and I haven't killed anyone yet, so I guess I'm doing okay...yet my hair and make-up might disagree.

Today my alarm goes off and my husband is gone. I call for him downstairs. I peek out the windows. The bastard is no where to be found on my morning. Grrrrr! Where the hell could he be? I'm sure he's running. But it's MY morning and we talked about this last night. Seriously, GRRR! My anxiety starts to rise as I mentally squish as many of the morning rituals into as few minutes as possible before my son wakes up...and ponder how much I hate my husband, of course. Two minutes wasted. Yikes! I hit the shower, do the quick-wash and skip my hair washing, pop out of the shower and as I make my move to the hot rollers I hear "da-da? da-da?" from the monitor. My son is up...and he's calling for his dad. MEN!

I took a deep breath to rid myself of negativity before I went in to gree the little guy and his cute expression of surprise and excitement while sitting up in the corner of his crib just lit up my heart. What a doll. Luckily, he cooperated while I changed his diaper and dressed myself for the day - in unison of course. One leg out of his jammies, one leg into my suit pants. Lucky for both of us, I have great balance. My sweaty husband rolled in ten minutes later right before things got really tricky (envision: eyeliner, hot rollers, 1 yr old splashing in the toilet). Turns out that hubby was in the basement riding his bike trainer and didn't hear me calling. I guess he has a rule never to be away after 6:30am on my mornings. Who knew? And yes, he gets up early enough to be out for a run and back before 6:30am. Did I mention my husband is mentally disturbed? He is a part-time triathlete with some sick fascination with bike time, splits and transitions. He'd rather get up at 4am than skip his swim class. Don't ask. It's all foreign to me.

Let's jump ahead. I'm out of the house (without injury, insult or crying...damn, this is a good day) and I have my usual morning call with my good friend and stay at home mom.  I'm not sure how we got into the routine, but I happen to love it. I call her every day when I'm on my way to work. We skip the weekends because our husbands are around and what fun is the call if we can't bad mouth them and their mothers? Today's call started as most every call does with my friend rehashing her sleepless night. Her child doesn't have a sleep routine and is up half the night. In a very bad move, I offered some unsolicited parental advice...even though I knew she wouldn't take it. Let's just say it didn't go over well. But everyone has their problems...

Problems? What problems?  Well...work is one of my problems.  Its a good job. I really like it. I've busted my fanny for many years to get the title and the pay, but I can't seem to locate the respect I envisioned at this stage. Is it because I'm a woman? Is it because I'm a keep-your-head-down, do-your-best-job, don't-look-for-praise type? Or is it because I carry myself with insecurity for having attended state school and not Harvard like everyone else who works here? Any way you slice it, I'm smart god damn it and people like me!  So...why don't I feel like part of the leadership team on the team that I helped build?  It's been a reoccurring issue for me in this  ivy-league infested workplace.

So...needless to say, my job is an issue. BUT...(note a little glimmer in my eye)...I've recently been offered a new office. It's the same size of my current office, with the same window view, but now I'll be only a few doors down from the corner office and tucked in the back, an area that automatically carries a certain cache. The people tucked in the back behind the receptionists and out of public view are always the most important and mysterious of the bunch. What are they doing? Which high-powered appointments are they with now? Yes sir eee bob, that's going to be me in just a few short days. Let's just say that I couldn't be happier. I've had my eye on the space since it was vacated a few months ago. It's about time that someone put two and two together. I mean, duh!

And your probably wondering, how does this relate to your morning? Well as usual, I was the first person to arrive in the office (because afterall, it was my morning). Before I turned on my computer. Before any else arrived. Heck, I didn't even check my voicemails yet!  I snuck down to the new space to give it a little test drive. I opened the shades and peered out the window at my new view, which is only slightly skewed from my old view which once seemed beautiful but now seems dark, dank and very, very last year. I pretend-typed at my new computer. I lounged back in the new chair (which needs an upgrade to leather). I scouted where my furniture would and books would go. It's all laid out in my brain.

Yup, I took my new office for a test drive and it erased from my memory the earlier morning annoyances. My mood was officially reset and I was ready to rock. I snuck back down to my "old" office and banged out more work in 2 hours than most in 2 days. I feel like a rock star.

So what does this minor office adjustment say about me? I guess I'm petty or materialistic. Who knows. Honestly, who cares? But it's nearly time for lunch and I brought some sausage lasagna, so I should get that heated up before tackling my afternoon.

This is a good day.

30 Months Later...

Well, well, well...  My brother's friendly ex-girlfriend reached out this week and mentioned my blog. Or was it last week? I must admit I'd semi-forgotten about the blog so I took a little peek at my last post and thought: Holy SH**! Things have changed.

Yup, quit my job. Yup, out of my 30s. Yup, had a third kid. I'm more A-Day-In-Flip-Flops now than heels. Damn that Dec 2012 blog post.

Okay, to catch you up:  I quit my job immediately after the 2 week vacation mentioned in the last post. I couldn't get back into the swing of things and it seemed it was time to cut the cord after 15 years. There may have been one or two other little factors swirling around there too, but why waste time on details. I quit and then cried about it for three solid weeks. I'm pretty sure that's not supposed to happen. Fast forward three months, two Disney trips and two Louis Vuitton bags later, and my husband was in a state of sheer panic over our finances (hmm). With no other plan or desire to create one, I started a business. When I say "started a business" I mean doctored up a quick website and printed up some business cards. Oh, and let's not forget the $500 I paid to the state to be a "business." I was already $800 in the hole and had no idea what I was planning to sell or to whom, but as far as my husband was concerned, I was consulting. It was genius. Thankfully karma owed me after 15 years in my last job and wouldn't ya know, the damn business caught on. People told me what I was selling and why and here I am consulting and it's awesome. Except for the whole working-from-the-playroom part, which brings me to the kids.

My kiddos are now 5 and 7. Ouch. Oh yea...and 11 months. Little D is tagging along with us for the ride. Despite what I said in December of 2012, D was not planned and my 40-something year old body is VERY tired, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Aside from the massive food allergies, projectile vomiting, severe eczema and no sleep, he's been great. He's got a head of shiny thick hair that any 40 year old man (and some women) would envy. As my mom says, "He's a doll baby" which I think means he's cute and even tempered. Thank god.

My daughter (5) is another story. I like to think of her as my test from God. And I'm SO failing that test.  My son (7) is 98% kind but the aforementioned female brings out his 2% awful. Let's just say I'm totally trained for my third career: WWE referee.

Now back to me. I put the breaks on my career and started up this business and it's been great...but not as easy as working-from-home-in-yoga-pants might seem. I'm trying the whole work-life-balance thing that all of us real working people know is a load of you-know-what. You're either working or your not...and trying to do both (as I'm doing now) is for the birds. It's a constant battle against the clock that sometimes involves a Hersey bar stuffed into someone's mouth so I can do a conference call. I'm doing the best I can but its not surprising that Botox is in my immediate future. The weirdest moment of my business so far: Having lunch with a potential client and stealing his left over salad and then eating it for dinner. This was an unintentional theft that only a too-old-mother of a kinda-newborn can kinda-get-away-with. Lots of kindas in there. You can imagine the awkward email apology that followed. Heaven help me.

Now on to some recent observations:

• Why is everyone at my local Whole Foods so *&%^$#*& miserable?  It's uncanny how pissed off everyone is in that store. Perhaps the Range Rover is acting up. Maybe they're pissed about the gluten free waffles? I'm only there to feed my non-dairy-soy-wheat-rice-barley child. Perhaps they sense an outsider in their midst? I have half a mind to start a competitor chain where only happy people are allowed. Wait...that's Market Basket, isn't it?  
• I promised myself I'd start eating clean today (the recent experience with a 10-turned-7-day clean diet detox is enough fodder for its own post). But there is a burger on the grill at this very moment and I plan to devour it with reckless abandon as soon its done. Sorry clean eating. Maybe tomorrow.
• My daughter's birthday was in mid-February and I never sent thank you notes. It seems a little desperate to pass them out on the last day of school (tomorrow). I'm thinking I should just embrace the too-busy-for-thank-yous this year and move on with life.  Anyone gossiping about this has already had plenty of time to gossip. There's really no need to inconvenience myself at this point, now is there?
• Crap. Tomorrow is the last day of school.
• I've been married for eight years today. I was sensing a good gift coming my way when I totally blew it and told my husband I wouldn't choose him if I could do it all over again. No idea why I said that. Its not really true (though in some moments it is a clear choice between two fantasies: 1) Having never married him, and 2) Being the star on a 48 Hours episode, so I go with #1). What a jerk to say that out loud. Between comments like that and my outstanding culinary skills, (as evidenced by the photo below of last night's dinner), I'll be lucky to get a bouquet of grocery store carnations tonight. And I call myself a strategist...

Smart Little Mice

I nearly knocked out a woman curling her hair in the ladies room last night. I busted in there around 630pm as if I had an axe to grind with the door, only to find a woman holding a hot curling iron to her head on the other side. I've never seen the woman before and I have no idea what she was primping in my office building at night, but I used to know an old lady who lived in the bathroom of my former office building (pre-911 security), so anything is possible. Oh, and then my boot heel slipped and I wound up in splits on the bathroom floor. Awkward.

My coworker gave me a bottle of wine for the holiday. While I am certain there is a prohibition against drinking listed somewhere in my office's Managers Red Guide, I would most certainly be half in the bag right now if I'd received a corkscrew too. Let this be a lesson to people everywhere: When giving wine as office gifts, be sure to include a cheapo corkscrew. It's just the right thing to do.

That same coworker is kindly circulating a Christmas card for the nice woman who cleans our offices every night. The administrative support staff are mad at this for some unknown reason. Not just mad but hostile. I can't understand why giving a nice lady a Christmas card from the office would tick them off so much. I guess the Grinch really did steal Christmas. Or the office mice.

Speaking of mice, we had a mouse inspection last week and I am pleased to report that there was no evidence of mice in my office. That didn't stop the distribution of stick-on pads with black and white pictures of cheese all over my office floor.  Who exactly is the cheese picture trying to please? Because I'm pretty sure that the mice can't see it from their vantage point. The semi-annual inspection inevitably leads to all sorts of office gossip and speculation about who is responsible for attracting the mice, and this year was no different. The rumor mills have narrowed it down to two individuals: one who is never here but has an emergency junk food stash in their drawer in case the world comes to an end one day, and another who feeds the office home baked goodness all year round and apparently keeps a little stash for them self. I'm quite certain neither of these people are the problem, given that it's unlikely for mouse to smell food 21 floors up. Clearly there is a building-wide issue that we in the penthouse have the luxury of experiencing every now and again.

Maybe I should tell the office gossipers what I think. Hmm.  I always have a bout of brutal honesty around New Years. It's a little bit like Tourette Syndrome. I've been known to call people around this time of year to tell them exactly why I dislike them and then try to make up in time for the New Year. As you can guess, this does not work but I've never been known to give up that easily.  Last week I blurted out loud that it was too hard to speak in a meeting because everyone else was blubbering on so much..while in the meeting. Today I bought a turkey club and found it necessary to tell the new young male cafe teller that it weighed 6 lbs and had bacon on it. He had no idea how to respond. Neither did I. So we starred at each other silently for a moment before I hightailed it back to the elevator. Also today I decided to give my office nemesis a Christmas card with a note about "new beginnings in 2013." She hasn't acknowledged the contents of the note, which may mean she's not ready to start fresh...or that she's just a b**** like I originally assessed. Either way, I'm feeling a little bit like RHOBH Brandi Glanville right now, wishing I could take it all back. It's a damn good thing that I start a 2 week vacation today because its only a matter of time before my honesty sets off a firestorm around the office.

As an aside, I registered my son for kindergarten in the fall. This, on top of my daughter starting preschool in January, is making my eggs hurt. Watch out Husband. I'm coming for #3. Oh...and I'm going to quit my job and become a stay at home mom after giving birth, so you might starting thinking about a second job. Ho. Ho. Ho.

Signs

The telltale sign that it's been too long since I blogged is forgetting the password to this account. Whoops.

Speaking of signs, I've noticed a few things lately that I'm struggling to understand. Call them signs. Call them oddities. Call them too-much-time-on-my-hands. Call them whatever the hell you want, but they are weird.  Here's a short list:

• Middle aged men with braces. Really?
• Glove sneakers. Can it possibly be comfortable to wear those rubber soles between your toes? And what happens when you step on a rock or a shard of broken glass?  I cannot be convinced that technology has advanced to the point of rubber being that strong. I rode the elevator into work this morning with a dude in a suit wearing bright blue glove-sneakers. Head scratcher.
• The FBI, CIA or someone weird following me. I met a guy today that I ran into 3 more times in the course of the subsequent few hours. I left my building for lunch (a completely random occurrence) and followed the same man back and forth on my break, which included a one hour sit down in between. Could this be a coincidence? I think not.
• Strictly cheese dinners. Some lady walked by my office, announced she was going in for surgery tomorrow, and offered to unload her snacks from the work fridge so they don't get bad on her leave. Hmph. I noticed that it's 7:30pm and there is no end in sight for this work day, so why the hell not. Before I knew it there was a pile of cheese on my desk and a few carrot sticks serving as garnish. It took 20 minutes to figure out if I was supposed to eat or not eat the red peel on the Babybel. Not eat. I finally figured it out. Now I'm enjoying some small curd cottage cheese. My stomach is going to be angry tomorrow.
• Texas. I was obsessed with the saying "Don't Mess with Texas" for years. That ended Tuesday when Ca major media outlet said they were #1 for business and we were not. After a bitter pity party, I took to Twitter and wound up second only to Iowa in an online popularity contest. At this moment, I swear I will never say DMwT and smile at the same time again. Not even in my head. And if I have to be behind someone, I'm a little bit okay being behind Iowa. It's a smaller, quieter shadow.
• God damn hackers. I learned tonight that some silly group hacked into Yahoo and now I have to change my password and all sorts of other inconvenient junk. I mean, really. If you want to steal, start somewhere more lucrative than my Yahoo account. People who still use Yahoo - I am slightly relieved to learn I'm not the only one left, BTW - are not the type to have boatloads of offshore accounts full of endless streams of cash. We're old, technologically challenged and too lazy to switch. All this means we're probably broke too. There has got to be some pool of more-likely-to-be-rich-folk on gmail or something. Leave us Yahooians alone. Jesus.

Follow me @ADayinHeels if you actually have an interest in the types of silliness that I share on this blog. Otherwise, you will be waiting until August when I will have time to blog again (at least in theory).

Goodnight!

Sales, Generics & Floss

I'm a sucker for a deal. Slap a bright orange price sticker on something and I'll buy it. I get a thrill out of visiting an Ocean State Job Lot. And the outlet stores are to die for! I once bought a pair of designer 4 inch lavender heels with pink straps because they were 50% off. I wore them once, was likened to an Easter egg, and still pat myself on the back for the Big Find. Needless to say, if I'm convinced that I'm saving a few bucks, it doesn't matter what the item is or if I'll ever use it: SOLD.

I have a well document attraction to saving a few bucks and now that I'm responsible for our family grocery shopping, I have even more reason to cut costs. I'd really like a new kitchen, upgraded wedding bands, new landscaping, a Lexus, and lots of other shiny, expensive things.  This is an itty bitty incentive to cut grocery bills. Coupons are out of the question. But what about generics?

My mom believes that Hellman's is mayo and the other stuff is just a "fake." She (quite literally) turns people away from family parties if they are carrying a potato salad with the "fake stuff". I hate to say that I have a little bit of that product snobbery in me too. But from time to time, I'll sneak a generic product into the grocery cart to see if anyone notices. By anyone I mean me. And of course I'll notice. But I've built up a fantasy in my head that I have to hide this from Husband because he's so picky and that couldn't be farther from the truth. Husband would eat bird sh** if it landed on a cracker.  The truth is...it's all about me. Duh.

I'm learning that most generic products are exactly the same as the name brands, but the ones that aren't...really aren't even close. I've learned the hard way about a few of these things, and it feels like a civic duty to share. So here goes:

• Dental floss. The generic store-brand was 1/2 the cost of the smooth, silky floss that I'm used to using. I thought "how different could it be?" and wow did I find out. The generic is like flossing with a used guitar string that was used at Woodstock and was lost in the mud for 3 decades. Ouch. Pony up the $1.50 for the good stuff.
• Face cream.  While I don't need to spend hundreds of dollars on fancy European or naturally grown concoctions, I would rather not wake up looking like pubescent teenager in need of Proactiv. One look at me will teach anyone a lesson. Splurge on an extra $10 bucks for a recognizable brand. 
• Toothpaste.  Nothing says "you're cheap" more than bad breath.  There's something about generic toothpaste that not only tastes bad but leaves you with a sour taste all day.
• Shampoo. Dry, dull, flat, icky hair. That's all I need to say.
• Mayo. Hellman's is where it's at...

The dental floss is really so offensive that I can't even look at it without getting mad. It's actually caused me to floss more often just to get rid of the darn stuff. Don't do it, people. DON'T. DO. IT.

A Summit and Some Very Dry Wood

I had a delightful day yesterday. I jaunted down to Cape Cod on our first 100 degree day of the season. I was there to speak at a conference or "summit"...what the hell is the difference? I was on the agenda immediately after an economist from DC, which is exactly where I'm usually slotted and it typically works out well for me. Not yesterday.  I showed up during the economist's presentation and literally thought I was in the wrong room. The guy must moonlight as a stand up comic. He was unbelievable! The room was going nuts...and I was right there with them. It wasn't until they started reading my bio that I thought "Oh crap..."  I did my best to make light of the situation and went on about my business discussing housing policy, infrastructure and regulation. I took the house down. Kidding. It was fine. Not great. Not terrible. But fine. And all things considered, fine is damn good enough for me. Mediocrity. Now that's what life's about.

When all was done at the "summit", I met my mom for an uncomfortable argument over a clam roll overlooking the marina (I should clarify, this was uncomfortable for people around us, but mighty comfortable in our seats). The owner stepped in to mediate/break-the-ice and we let him roll with it and try to entertain us while we dunked our last few clams in tarter sauce. Then I started back to the cit-ay. 

I took a little detour on my way to the office and worked the rest of the day from home. I snuck in some garden watering, ant killing, and tree hacking. A whole city of ants has taken up residence in my yard. I tried to drown them but the ground kept collasping into bigger and bigger tunnels. I swear Bin Laden may have been living in there at one point. Disgusting! Once I got all grossed out by the ants, I stumbled upon an un-pruned tree. And boy was that tree in the wrong place at the wrong time! It's a good thing that I only had 10 minutes and a rusty saw that I found lying around in the garage (very safe for children, btw). A few limbs later, and we've got a clearer view of my front door and a slightly taller wood stack in the driveway. So what if I had a little saw dust in my hair, bra and eye. Do you think Paul Bunyan worried about such things? Nonsense.

Speaking of wood stacks, Husband has been "drying" the same stack of wood for about four years now.  Every few months I poke around the stack using long instruments, hoping to frighten any critters from nesting in there. I finally took a picture of the now-fully-dried-wood to post on Craigslist. I imagine someone will want free-and-very-very-very-very-very-dried-wood right?  Let's see how long it takes for someone to snatch this up. Could take a while since I'm scared to death to give anyone on Craigslist my address. There are Craigslist Killers out there, ya know.

It's 100 again today. I used the occasion to carry heels in my bag while running around town in flip flops. I now have a giant blister on my foot. Damn comfortable shoes. They'll get you every time!

I'm off to check on my ant kill now.  I am not very confident in the advice I got at Home Depot yesterday. I specifically asked for something that will "kill the shit out of the ants and all potential descendants" and I got something that required a hose connection and has some flowery language about safety on the packaging. I tried to wait for the ant-kill-specialist to finish her break and return to the department, but it was taking too long to finish her burrito...so I took the stand-in's advice and we'll see how it works out for me. Fingers crossed. Giant ants are gross.

Have a lovely weekend, all!  I'm hosting a playdate in the sprinklers tomorrow. Wish me luck.

Dust Bunnies, Cut Offs and Bravo

I've really got to stop telling people that we have an "open door policy."  It's more and more horrifying every time someone drops in unexpectedly when my house is a mess. Is there such a thing as compounding anxiety? If so, I have it. Just today a colleague in a suit was standing next to a toddler table that was teetering over with freshly painted stack of art. I was paralyzed with fear that this man would leave my house with pink sparkles on his ass. I wish I were strong enough to embrace my imperfections, but I'm not. I'm a weak woman and there is simply no hope but to become agoraphobic, stop inviting people over, and accept that I'm living in a toy factory.

NOTE: Seriously Mom. Enough with the toys. There are only so many things I can hide in the attic.

I just got a call from my bestie girlfriend (H.) who has been in my life since I wore cut off acid washed booty shorts and used aerosol hairspray to manipulate exactly two strands of bangs to stand straight up in gale forced winds. Why two strands? I guess I thought that sparsely populated bangs were attractive.  This bestie and I spent our summers on Cape Cape at a phone booth trying to win a date with George Michael from the radio. Yea, that was before we knew he was gay.  We met when we were 15 and were dating the same guy who incidentally had a girl voice. In two minutes, he was long gone and we were bonded for life.

She's seen it all and remained a friend despite my not-so-attractive moments (and I wish I could say there were only a few, but that would be an outright lie). She's got 3 kids, I've got 2. She lives in Palo Alto and I live in Boston. Between the kids and the time difference, we rarely talk now but when we do, it feels like we've never skipped a beat. Talking with H. feels like going home. And she called me tonight to say that she'll be on the Cape Cod for a week in July and....drumbeat please...it's the same week that I'll be there!!!

The universe is trying to tell me something. First there was that coincidental meeting with the man-who-was-fired-then-counselled-by-a-man-within-my-professional-organization. I was awestruck by this man who was turning a hardship into opportunity before my very eyes and then pulled out the business card of a man he was crediting for helping him, and that man works for US! I don't care what anyone says, that was meant to be. And now this week in July with my bestie and fam on Cape Cod! Yay! It's amazing. Life is good and for the record, H. can walk into my messy house any day of the week and I wouldn't bat an eyelash. LOVE her. And I can't wait for my special walk down memory lane this summer. I wonder if the phone booth is still there?

Miscellaneous Emotional Outburst: Oh. My. God. I'm watching Real Housewives of OC and I'm about ready to slap the tv. I don't know how Alexis does it. I really don't. Her husband is an insecure a-hole and if he says that she was made from his bone one more time, I'm going to vomit. I realize I'm a democrat from Massachusetts, but this is 2012, right? Someone send this Jim-guy an email: "Women are equals, dude. But you might be able to find a servant on Craigslist." I'm glad this guy lives on the opposite coast. Ick.

And Here Comes that Pendulum Swing: I'm SO thrilled that Rosie Pope is coming back to Bravo!  Yay! She is a riot and her moms to be are more nuts than me, which is somehow therapeutic.

A Rainy Monday Morning

Today I decided to sock it to "the man" and showed up for work at 10am (instead of 9). Wowzer. I'm such a rebel. Didn't take long for me to realize that I've really screwed myself over today, given my workload and hopes of getting home for a 6:30pm yoga class. Duh. I'm better off keeping to my comfort zone and being a rule follower. Live and learn.

The fabulous (no skin) chicken soup that I made without a recipe is sitting on my desk and staring me in the face. I can't wait to dive in and see how it tastes. Marjoram sounded interesting, so I threw some in like a mad scientist. It looks good...but so did those horrific muffins. No. Actually. They looked like horse poop.  I grew up in the country and trust me...I know what horse poop looks like.

I'm psyched to report that my snug navy pant suit is loose today. Really?  @Bethenny was right! It doesn't take much more than awareness about your eating habits to shed a few extra pounds. I'm down 6lbs without a lick of exercise and it feels great.  Maybe it wasn't a rash decision afterall when I lost 1lb and rushed out to purchase a new bikini. Husband thinks it'll sit in the drawer just like the one I bought last year, but I'm determined to prove him wrong. Thinking it would be nice to work a little exercise into my routine, I allegedly signed up for a triathlon in 4 weeks. I'm burning calories in my mind just thinking about it. I haven't yet broken out the book of possible excuses to get myself out of it, but I assure you that's coming. I'm deeply regretting the pool swim because it eliminates the I-haven't-swam-in-years-and-its-just-irresponsible-for-a-parent-of-young-children-to-try-and-do-this excuse from my list.  Damn me. What was I thinking?

I just got a very dangerous text message (broke another rule there! I don't read personal texts while working...damn, I'm going to be wearing a T-Birds jacket soon). My high-powered-super-successful-career-oriented-girlfriend just resigned her high-powered-super-high-paying-job. She is making a life change that involves a pay cut, less stress, and more time with her family. And why is this dangerous? Because I rewrote my resume yesterday and may not make it to 5pm without doing the same.  Again, why is this dangerous exactly? Because I am not super-high-powered with a super-high-paying-job and I have no plan for how to pay my mortgage. I pretend that I'm supercalifradulistic-enough not to need a back up plan because employers will surely line up at my doorstep when they learn that I'm a free agent. True? Not true? Unlikely that I'll ever know....because I'm a rule follower...and my mortgage holder knows where I live. Damn me.

There's always craft fairs...

Deep Thoughts by a Lady in Heels

I have been slacking with recent posts which is okay since no one reads this blog anyway. Here is a random smattering of thoughts that have crossed my mind recently:

• I love it when people wander around in public singing at the top of their lungs. I noticed it recently in a dressing room at the mall and the parking lot of Stop & Shop. To all you American Idol Wannabes, please keep this up. It's seriously hilarious. You simply cannot beat someone getting lost in song. Especially when they're tone deaf. 
• What's with the diagnosis of "exhaustion" that seems to be disproportionately impacting celebrities? I am exhausted. How do I get checked into a special center for some pampering and sleep? I'm not sure if these PR people are trying to cover up celeb rehab or plastic surgery, but if this "exhaustion" center stuff is real, I need in.
• I am convinced that some "people" are actually vessels sent here by God to test my willpower against evil. There is no other explanation for why I am forced to interact with some incredibly useless and difficult people. You know the type. They are insecure about their station in life and make everything harder than it needs to be in an effort to prove they are smarter than you. I have a special message for these people: This. Doesn't. Work. Other (productive) people don't want to work with you. The mere sight of them is exhausting (Note: Does this make me eligible for admission to an exhaustion center?) Noticeable avoidance by others seems to make these people work harder to demand control, which then makes us (smarter) people work harder to avoid them. It's an endless cycle of distraction generated by people with a negative value in the workplace. And I am sorry to say that I'm failing God's test miserably. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that I'm Catholic.
• But hiding in the women's room from the kinds of people referenced above is not a good idea. I tried it last week and got stuck in the stall for 20 minutes. Not only was I trapped in a confined space listening to the annoying-kind demanding that the conscientious-kind slow down and virtually cease all productivity. But I lost at least 40 minutes of my own productivity (20-minutes listening followed by 20-minutes of deep breathing to recenter). I was too far into it when I noticed my easily recognizable shoes sticking out of the stall. Not good. This was an all-around bad judgement call on my part. I can admit that.
• What's with people who make un-funny jokes during presentations? It's annoying. I had to sit through a panel yesterday that was twice as long as it needed to be because some guy mistook our conference room for the Last Comic Standing auditions. The law-making process is not funny, buddy. And the insincere giggles were reactions of sympathy, not humor. Your tribe has spoken. Now, get off this island. If it were only that easy.
• Speaking of tribes and islands, when does the reality tv come back? I miss you, Jeff Probst, Celo-Blake-Christina, and the whole Trump family. Chris Harrison is terrific, don't get me wrong. But he and his roses are simply not enough to keep me entertained through the long, cold winter months. The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills has just wound down too. It's been a rough week for me, emotionally.
• Groupon has me stumped today. Do I go for 65% off Invisalign or 60% off 20-units of Botox? This decision is paralyzing. I'm sure I need them both, but which do I need more? And is saving for college tuition a worthy sacrifice for beauty. Duh. That's an easy one.