It was like speed-dating (although I can’t bring myself to do that so I’m just going on what I hear, I swear). 30 seconds into the interview I knew this job wasn’t for me and I spent the remaining hour and a half trying to talk myself down from standing up, shaking this man’s hand and saying, “I thank you so much for your time and for explaining in such excruciating detail why the other people have left this office and what painstakingly mundane tasks you would like me to accomplish while I sit behind a that wretched front desk posing to be a straight-laced secretary right out of the 1950’s, but the truth of the matter is, if you had taken any time at all to even GLANCE at my resume, you would see that my days of being someone’s assistant are far far behind me. You would notice a progression into the more creative, marketing side of business which you just stated you have little use for. Let’s face it, you called me in here because I am familiar with a unique database system that you use. I could do this job standing on my head, blindfolded with no arms, having never gotten past the third grade. You have told me far more detail about your current audit, your secretary’s leave of absence and the reason your loan officer is leaving. I think I noticed a theme somewhere along there. If none of this had truly frightened me away, however, the tour of the office would certainly have sealed the deal. In just trying to make it out the door, you decided to pause long enough to show me the mounds upon mounds of filing that “I” would be doing and the stacks and stacks of papers that demonstrate the complete lack of organization left in this company. The dust, the sense of confinement, the mountains of filing cabinets were all screaming in their silent office-supply ways “Stay away! Don’t come here! Run for your life!” So, while it may be important for you to know how soon I could start ‘should I be offered a position’, please realize that you asked me not ONE single pertinent question about my skills, background or career goals. I sent my letter of intent clearly stating my desire to remain in a professional, management position and you have clearly decided that putting me behind this dreadful desk and attaching a phone to my ear is what I meant by that. You have now told me exactly how I should drive to this office to cut down on travel time (although you added no less than 20 miles to the route, so I’m not sure how that worked out mathematically). You have told me when you will be prepared to make an offer and reviewed with me my salary requirements, which I do not know how you can even look at and think it goes right along with this job, but that is up to you. You could, quite honestly, offer me twice what I am making now and I would refuse, knowing I would go completely MAD within 4 days of working here. Thank you. For your time, for your complete and utter, albeit unprofessional, candor. I can now go home and know that I do not want this job without any debate without any guilt, without feeling like I should reconsider. And I will return to my completely crappy job tomorrow knowing that it is at least a smidge less-crappy than this would be. I appreciate the perspective.”

Bra was off by 7, vodka was in the glass by 7:15. Enough said.

Today:

Had a personal agenda for what I needed to get done at work. Boss interrupted to say I needed to get an asinine mailing out to the membership on the topic-that-will-not-be-mentioned (only cause it pisses me off too much). This meant that me, the computer-literate, newsletter editor, employee with lots to do had to stick labels on envelopes and baby-sit the stuffing machine all day long to get this mailing out the door instead of doing something much more worthwhile with my abilities.

Stopped at the grocery store on my way home so the LM and I could have yummy dinner. Convinced myself that buying a 40 pound bag of cat litter WOULD save me money afterall, so I could surely suck up carrying it. Lord knows I carry Gabe’s 45 pound bag every other week. Upon arriving at the check out, I couldn’t for the life of me find my debit card. I paid with my credit card before reaching an all-out panic in the parking lot only to find the card in my purse, just NOT in my wallet.

Arrived home to find that Gabe had chosen NOT to eat anything today. He must have known the dog trainer was coming this evening. Dogs are intuitive, you know. Don’t let his sad brown eyes fool ya, he’s thinking in there.

Vacuumed, loaded the dishwasher and other tidbits before a stranger came into my home. Trainer was late, couldn’t find my door (I’ll admit, the numbering system here makes you wonder if the builder knows Jose Cuervo like I do.) She worked with Gabe for about an hour. Nothing remarkably astounding, but a couple good suggestions. (Gabe is awesome, but since I live upstairs, I have to leave him at the top of the stairs to answer the door and that leaves him the ability to play King of the Hill with unsuspecting house guests. Believe me, he wins. Every time.) At the end of training, as we talked about getting together one more time for some training at the park (‘How to Greet Other Dogs Without Scaring The Crap Out of Their Owners 101’) we realize this trainer used to stop in during our first puppy class over a year ago. Wait, wait, wait. So how long have you been a TRAINER?!? I was not impressed. Not sure we’ll keep the park date.

LM was starving by the time the woman left. He had been so patient, even went and took a shower to get it out of the way while he waited. He finally just came into the kitchen where we were talking and pulled the ground beef out of the fridge and set it on the counter in front of me. Subtle, and yet really kinda funny. It was 8:30 before the wee little lad had dinner. I had vowed not to eat after 7:30 anymore so I missed my window of opportunity for food. I packed up leftovers for my lunch tomorrow and talked with LM while he ate. (He was sending IM’s to my brother which were absolutely hysterical!)

At 9 o’clock – with football already on and I haven’t even been able to watch pre-game, I FINALLY get to take my bra off. I know you women out there understand that one. You men can just nod and say, “oooooooookay”.

It’s now just after 10, John Madden is annoying me tonight and I just can’t get into the game. I must be getting sick. I’m going to head to bed. I have an interview tomorrow and I have no idea what I’m going to wear. Not really a tough question except that the interview is after work, so I have to dress keeping in mind that I don’t want to raise suspicions at my office. Gotta love the challenge of playing the job hunting game.

I bid you all a sweet goodnight. UC and Fish, glad to see you’re both back into the blogging world. Poka, I was beginning to worry about you as well. You are the one who got me hooked on reading blogs to begin with (reading yours!) and then you just stop…for several days…on end….. do you understand the withdrawal that forces me to go through?! You all need to be more considerate of your readerships!! I’ve been forced to just blog hop again lately and let me tell you, that is a scary place out there! Between all the blogs in languages I can’t read to the various products for sale, porn sites and spam – oh and lest I forget, the 4,357 blogs with pictures of someone’s baby! It’s too much!! LOL

Here’s to Tuesday!

I just stepped out of the bath, wrapped in my robe, hair up in a towel and my skin still radiating heat. I still need to ‘quip out my ears, comb out my hair and brush my teeth. My heart is still racing, my mind hasn’t calmed. Too many contradictions are dancing around, the kind that bring wrinkles, stress and the thirst for chocolate flavored alcohol (why isn’t there more of that?)

I won’t use the H word (hate), it’s rather strong, but here are things I strongly dislike. I’m not asking you to agree. Heck, I don’t ask you to even read! Anyone who wants to comment on the strongly methodical, analytical side of me that prefers life as-a-list can simply add their name to the bottom:
1. People throwing cigarettes out car windows.
2. People who brake approaching a green light.
3. People who throw a cigarette out their car window while braking at a green light.
4. Punting on fourth and inches.
5. That I lack the necessary confidence to believe that sentiments expressed to me from men are only expressed to me and not to many other women as well.
6. That I drive a sedan. A “Mom Car”.
7. Parents that walk ten steps ahead of their children.
8. Parents that threaten to leave their child right there because they aren’t behaving.
9. Parents that count, bribe, threaten, plead and pamper their tantrum-throwing children.
10. Parents that think there is no alternative to bribing, threatening, counting, pleading and eventually just giving in to their children.
11. Job hunting
12. That in an effort to get healthier by drinking more water, I simply spend a third of my day in the bathroom.
13. When the Patriots lose and the Eagles win. (To understand better, consider that I’m a Patriots fan that lives near Philly. Philly fans booed Santa. They are the first to say “nanananananana”)
14. That I’m not naturally athletic.
15. Monday mornings.
16. Rap music
17. Changing the cat box
18. Putting slip covers back on the couches.
19. Getting paid and being broke all on the same day
20. Dieting.

Because I’m a generally happy girl, and because I prefer to focus on the good things, not the bad, I’d also like to include the things I love:
1. Grey in a man’s goatee (ahhh, sigh)
2. Sleeping in
3. Eating a dinner I didn’t cook
4. Love letters
5. Tulips
6. Seeing people hug their children in public.
7. Opening a bottle of wine
8. Finishing a good book
9. Receiving drunk calls at 3am
10. Black and white photos
11. Scrapbooking
12. Playing poker
13. Infatuation
14. A triple-header of my three favorite college football teams on Saturday
15. Spontaneous road trips
16. Kisses on the back of my neck
17. My son’s laugh
18. Cooking a huge pot of chili, a loaf of homemade oatmeal bread and a block of cheddar cheese for dinner on a cold winter night.
19. Sexy teeth. (I can’t explain it, but some men just have the sexiest teeth. Shoulders are a close second).
20. Having solid plans for the weekend established on Tuesday
21. Songs that lyrically, musically and rhythmically touch your soul.
22. Daydreaming
23. The smell of hiking through the woods in autumn.
24. Holding hands
25. People who aren’t afraid to apologize, nor too stubborn to accept mine.

I feel a bit better. Thanks for letting me both rant and to rave.

Sidenote: For those who have read previous posts, my brother is watching Extreme Makeover Home Edition again tonight and refuses to talk to me while he does. (He’s kidding).

Workout complete? Check.

Laundry done? Check.

Dog walked? Check.

House vacuumed? Check.

Lunch ready? Check.

It’s 12:26 on Sunday afternoon. 34 minutes until the busiest three or four hours of my week. I’m warming up my clicker finger. I’m clearing the path to the bathroom for quick visits. The phone is shut off, answering machine is on. At 1pm EST the Patriots, Red Sox and Nascar (Matt Kenseth) will all start their various sports. I need picture in picture in picture for this one. I can’t even begin to prioritize my viewing other than the fact that Matt seems to drive better when I don’t watch, so I’ll just try to check in on the race from time to time. This could be the clincher for the Red Sox to get into the playoffs so I’m going to want to watch as much of that game as possible, but with the recent injuries to the Pats team, I’m nervous about the season and want to see how they play against the Chargers today. It’s going to be hectic, there’s bound to be some cheering and some yelling going on from my couch.

Don’t worry, by dinner time all will resume to normal again and I’ll be able to sneak in a quick if not a bit late, Sunday snooze. Enjoy your Sunday afternoon, I know I will be! (As long as they all win!) Gotta go – need one more quick bathroom break and a bottle of water before the action starts! 26 minutes….

There are so many things I want to say today. Bear with me on this one.

To my boss: I’d like to say, “SHOVE IT.” You made a horrible decision without even asking what staff thought and now we are the ones to take the full brunt of the issue. I am NOT on your side, I do NOT believe you acted professionally and to stoop to the level you have come to is to regress to Junior High status. Grow. The. Fuck. Up.

To the woman who called me today asking if I was still job hunting: YES!! Thank you. Thank you for remembering me after all this time. Thank you for your referral and your words of encouragement and support. This job may or may not be for me, but I appreciate the fact that you thought of me and went out of your way on my behalf.

To the man who has the position open: PLEASE DEAR GOD let it be a good position that would make a good career move for me. Do not treat me like a child. I can bring great experience and skill to your organization. Give me the chance to do so. I will give you the chance to be part of my career growth.

To Burger King: I say: “Picture menu available at window” on your drive-up menu is disturbing. If someone requires a picture menu because they cannot read, how can they read this helpful tidbit of information!?

To my dear friend Joe: I miss you. I’m sorry for being a stubborn, sensitive, girl. Truly.

To my Little Man: You are a joy. Thank you for a fantastic walk by the lake tonight. Thank you for laughing when you fell in the water and laughing even harder when I fell in. I can’t wait to see the pictures we took. Thank you for cooking dinner. What an incredible child you are. I will miss you this weekend. I hope you always know how much I love you.

To Gabe: Please stop eating things. Two throw pillows, two books and now a little pumpkin. (I only know he ate the pumpkin because he left the seeds and literally NOTHING else on the carpet). I love you. I walk you. I give you enormous amounts of attention and praise. Stop eating my things.

To my brother: I hope you are well. You are working 24/7 trying to get out of a hole you put yourself in. You will move to Atlanta perhaps as early as next week. I hope that it is nothing but positives for you. I hope that you grow roots and develop a career and find true happiness there.

To my sister: Tonight you reminded me of apples. Every year the bushels of Ida Red apples that I somehow get from Michigan to Pennsylvania. Thank you for remembering, for suggesting that perhaps you’ll travel this way this year. For allowing me to make jars and jars of applesauce again with Jacob from the best apples ever grown.

To Jimmy: Thank you for solving some of my quandaries. I appreciate finally understanding.

To Poka: Do you not have any tv at all? Amazing Race isn’t currently on cable it’s on network TV, so I’m hoping you were still able to see it. I won’t say a word about it though.

To W: I am a long shot from being Kate (from LOST). Maybe someday I’ll find the motivation to deal with the issues that stand in my way from losing weight. In the meantime, I’ll enjoy looking at Jack every week even if the plot is weak. (You can have Sawyer). But thanks for the sweet sentiment nonetheless. I needed it today.

To Miladysa: Can I move in? Ghosts or not, you have the most beautiful land around your home I could ever imagine. Enjoy it for me, if you would.

To Sarah (McLaughlin): Thank you for your music. Over and over the words strike me at soul-depth and shake me to my core. You speak to me, you move me. Today I listened to “Ice” a thousand times and I will never grow tired of it. You are talented beyond my comprehension. Thanks for sharing your gift.

To the Red Sox: WTF?!?!?! HELLO!?!? That’s all I can muster today.

To God: Thank you for all the blessings you gave to me today. Thank you for this incredible autumn day. For the scent of leaves in the woods. For the sound of water lapping at the lake’s edge. Thank you for my son, for my family, for my friends. Thank you for this day and all the days you have given to me. Help me to not take a single one for granted.

Tonight was a beautiful night. Just cool enough without being at all cold. Sun shining. Feels like autumn without looking like winter just yet. When I arrived home, Gabe peeked at me and then ran into the living room – an immediate sign of trouble. I thought I noticed a hint of “fluff” on the stairs and sure enough he had eaten a throw pillow and two of Jacob’s books. He knew he was in trouble and laid in his bed for awhile until I calmed down. Since he hasn’t done this in many many months, I took it as a sign that he was asking for attention, so we headed off to the park.

I love going to the park with pup. There are oodles of little pee-wee football teams practicing, moms and dads sitting on the sidelines watching their boys practice ball and the girls practice cheering. (Don’t email me about women’s rights on this one, it’s too Pollyanna). Kids flock to Gabe. They have no fear of this 200 pound dog, they run right over shouting “can I pet your dog, pleeeeeaaase?” For me, who loves kids and dogs alike, it’s a win-win. However…. As I stood surrounded by kids just after arriving at the park, one of the kids shouted “Hey! There’s a little dog!” and I turn around and there is LISA. (insert scary music here.)

Lisa is my neighbor. I met her last spring out walking my dog. Over the course of the summer, I hung out with Lisa from time to time, mainly to go walking around the neighborhood and get our dose of girl-talk squeezed into our lives. She would invite me over to hang out with friends of hers, for a glass of wine at the end of the day or to sit at the pool while he son went swimming. It didn’t take long to realize that Lisa was extremely candid, open and remarkably uninhibited. I knew more about her than I was prepared to know in such a short amount of time.

Anyways, long story to short, I had a lightbulb moment with Lisa one night while walking around the neighborhood. She was talking to me about the vacation she had just returned from with her husband and son. They had spent a week with some of both of their families in Virginia in a house they had rented. She talked about how she and her husband went on a dinner cruise together one night, just the two of them, then progressed to a strip club, then back to the pool at the house with another couple for some skinny-dipping. I’m not always the quickest to pick up on these sorts of things, but I started to see all the conversations adding up and realized that Lisa and her husband were perhaps the first “swingers” I had met, and I feared beyond all fears that the next thing out of her mouth was going to be an invitation.

Call me conservative, call me a Midwestern freak of a girl, call me whatever, but this isn’t for me. I had to break off this friendship. I just didn’t know how. She kept calling and calling, and she’d stop by all the time to see if I wanted to hang out. Finally, one night, she must have rung my doorbell 3 times within an hour span and I finally went to the door with the phone in my hand explaining I was on the phone with my dad (lie). She held up a bottle of wine and looked sadly pitiful asking if I wanted to ‘catch up’. I explained that I was on the phone, and that I was headed out to play poker in 10 minutes (truth! Whew!) She looked absolutely defeated. I felt horrible. I wasn’t sure what to do.

I asked the advice of several people and they all came to the conclusion that she was not on the same page as I am and I needed to find a way to end this. A couple days later, when I knew she wasn’t home (cause I’m a wuss), I called her home phone and left a message saying how much I appreciated her efforts to hang out and such but I had really gotten busy lately and Jacob was going to be home next week and then school was starting and I just rambled on and on with some incoherent excuse for basically why I didn’t think we could really hang out anymore. I hate lying, I loathe lying. But I just couldn’t bring myself to say, “I’m not a swinger and I’m uncomfortable hearing about your lifestyle.” Anyways, not a word since. No calls, no knocks, nothing. I figured she realized at the very least that I just wasn’t interested anymore and let it be.

Until tonight. It’s been well over a month since I last saw her. Tonight, in order for her to have been that closely behind me when I arrived at the park, she must have followed me most of the way. I’m thinking that she probably saw me walk past her house, and knowing Lisa like I do, grabbed her dog and came running out hoping to strike up a conversation. Trust me, she’s like that. I was frozen at the park, not knowing what to say. Something deep inside me forced me to say aloud, “I’m going to go this other way, I don’t think Gabe will handle your dog well tonight” (true). Whew, I walked away and never looked back.

Call me lame, call me a wimp, I just don’t have the heart sometimes to tell the truth if I know it’s painful. And maybe just maybe Lisa doesn’t want anything more from me than a friendship but I’m not ready for any more sexual confusion in my life. I’ve had my fill. If she wants her husband to stop by a certain bar on the way home to check out a certain “hot bartender” (female) so be it. I just don’t need to be in on all that.

The moment I walked into my house tonight, the phone rang. I waited for the machine to pick up but they hung up on the third ring. Three times. I think Gabe’s going to have to fill in as my best friend for a little while. Considering my alternatives, I’m really okay with that.

Things that I’d really love to understand if someone could explain them to me in such a way as to not make me feel completely stupid for asking in the first place.

1. How do they determine how far above sea level some place is?
2. How does a call come across my cell phone? I mean, how does that signal ONLY come to my phone, and how does it travel that fast? Why do I never pick up my phone to say, “No, I’m sorry, but I think you’ve accidentally reached the wrong phone.”
3. Why are operas performed in a foreign language?
4. Water towers. We pump water up, so gravity can pull it back down?
5. How much would it cost to feed all the hungry people just in America for one day, and how does that number compare to the price of a fighter jet?
6. Why is a dollar worth more or less on any given day in other countries?
7. How can the Egyptians build pyramids that have stood for thousands of years and we can’t build a levee system to withstand a hurricane?
8. How can weather-people be so INCREDIBLY wrong so much of the time?
9. How could we put men on the moon decades ago but it takes 3 years for Pixar to create a computer-animated film?
10. Why isn’t Sign Language a universal language?
11. How does bleach remove color from clothes?
12. How can the American Mastiff’s origins be in the “working dog” category when all mine does is sleep?
13. How do they know a nuclear bomb isn’t a dud?
14. Two words: Dry. Cleaning.
15. I get the general gist of a camera. I don’t get how it captures colors.

Anyone? I’m sure there are more, I’ll let ya know. Let me know what’s occupying those cells in the back of your brain that are so busy you can’t remember where you put your keys.

I took six years of French. Four in high school and two at the collegiate level. I remember reading “La Petit Prince”. What a bizarre story with the strangest of words I’ll never need to know. I can say ‘sheep’ but I can’t remember how to ask for a pencil. In college we learned Christmas carols in French. Oh joy. To the world. A) singing in front of people. B) singing in a language I never did pronounce worth a darn. My dad took French in high school, back when I there were only 3 languages in all the world or something, but he can still sing the French anthem. That’s at least impressive.

I have decided that French was a lousy choice. Out of French, Spanish or German, it might have been the best of the worst, but it really hasn’t served me well at all. The fine folks in Paris still snubbed their noses at me. During my exchange to Belgium my host family wanted to practice their English.

If I could go back, if I could make a wiser, more applicable choice during freshman orientation, I would choose differently. I would choose to study “Feline”. Maybe today I could pick up “Cat for Dummies” or “Meow 101” from my local bibliotheque. Maybe. It’s probably a language better learned at an early age, before your mouth becomes incapable of forming some of the sounds. ‘Meeeeeow? Meeooooooww?” Maybe even if I were to master the language now, my cats would still laugh at the way I pronounce the ‘r’s like ‘l’s.

Maybe I could just get away with learning the psychology of cat-speak. Why, after an entire day of silence from Jonah, does he decide to make quite a proclamation from atop the bookshelf? What at that exact moment prompted him to speak his mind? And what satisfied his outburst so that he was able to simply turn and go back to sleep? Nothing has changed, no one has moved.

Scout rarely speaks. Well, except when she went in heat and never-for-the-life-of-me-shut-up. Scout will talk to me when I go into my room at night and find her already warming the bed for me. But I understand her, I can relate. She’ll tell me she’s been waiting for me to come to bed for an hour now and that she was kind enough to get it cozy for me. She’ll also ask for some love before the beast comes in to ruin it all. Then she’ll be quiet again. She knows if she talks too much, Gabe will come running.

Jonah talks at the strangest times. Certainly I get the usual “HEY! We’re outta food! How did you NOT notice our bowl was empty!?! HEY!!! Before you get in that shower, com’on, cut us a break! I might not eat it for hours, but still, I should be fed FIRST!! And what’s with Iams for the third year in a row? Enough already!”

But the one that gets me the most is after I turn off all the lights, check that the door is indeed locked and head to bed. When my head hits the pillow and blankets are all drawn up to my chin, alarm clock on and the dog is at my side on the floor, Jonah will start. He will walk through the house proclaiming something that by the sounds of it should really be paid attention to. I have no idea what this diatribe is all about. I do not know if it is his way of announcing his superiority, reminding all of us that Alpha Dog in this house is a cat. I do not know if he is simply claiming his prize for being the last one awake. But it’s every night. And it goes on for several minutes. All I can say in response is, “Ou v’est le W.C.?” and even then, I’ve probably just asked a rude question about your uncle and not the location of the bathroom.

If anyone out there speaks Cat, let me know. I’d at least like to make sure Jonah isn’t insulting me to my face. How humiliating that would be. “Hey everyone (meow meow) did you know this woman might keep a clean house, but have you actually looked in her closets?! (meow meow)” or perhaps “I saw you eat a bowl of ice cream AND a bowl of popcorn (meow meow) you can’t fool me! (meow!!)” So if you can help me translate, great! If not, can anyone teach me how to say “the only good cat is a dead cat” in feline? You know, just in case.

My bedroom is my sanctuary. Years ago, I heard the advice that your bedroom should be the most welcoming, comforting place in your home and I took heed. You didn’t need to tell me twice. I love lazy mornings in bed, I love reading before I sleep, and it’s the one place that both my kitties will come snuggle with me despite the fact that the beast lies just a few feet away. How could I NOT cherish this room?

The bed and dresser are antiques from my grandparents. They are truly beautiful. A quilt hangs on the rack Bear made for me (the rack, not the quilt), which hangs over my mom’s hope chest. A beautiful antique table sits under the window with my prized bell jar, a plant or two and of course, a lantern. The only think I think the room is lacking is a big oversized reading chair and ottoman, but that will come in time.

Today I sought to conquer the issue of curtains. I have blinds, thank goodness, as the neighbor’s window would otherwise look almost directly into mine, but I needed some simple touch to the window that would add to the room in a subtle, elegant manner.

My first attempt failed miserably. I recognize that I’m a visual person, but I can pick things out in a store that are beyond comprehension when I get them home.

My second attempt, however, was far more successful. I found curtains that have a subtle leaf pattern to them which matches my personality and decorating style just perfectly. I hung them just a tad too low, but not so much so that I’m going to move them (that would mean spackle and touch up paint which I just can’t bring myself to do).

As I walked into my room earlier to change into my jammies I felt such a sense of accomplishment and peace over something so simple as curtains. I suppose it’s just all that the room adds up to. Touches of my past mixed in with my hopes for the future. It demonstrates the distance I’ve come through in the last several years since my divorce. This is my room. This is my home. It is certainly my mortgage! I will sleep tight on this cool autumn night with my kitties curled up in the bed and Gabe snoring next to me on the floor. I will wake up in the morning and cherish the light of day coming through the shades. This is my room. This is my heaven. This is peace. My sanctuary.