There's this mom at the C's school. We'll call her Shelly.
Shelly is the proud, married nonworking mother of a 10 year old boy and a six-almost-seven year old girl. The girl's name some might think pretentious; others might think charming. I think it's cute, given the girl. It is the last name of a very famous rock star.
Shelly is probably four or five years my senior. She has blond hair and a rock that must give her left hand some serious carpal tunnel syndrome. She can dress up but is most often in her uniform of jacket, sweats, some sort of slide-on shoes, hat, etc. Hair ranges from "done" to seriously "undone". Much like mine, I suspect.
Shelly is known to me primarily for dislodging little salvos at the most odd times. Here are examples of Shellyisms:
Shelly: "Hey, [DD], is [C] really turning 8 this year? Can you change his birthday date and time?" (this in response to the evite sent out by C's dad. He sent it out announcing C turning 8 (um, 7!) and it was sent out two days after ANOTHER evite for EXACTLY THE SAME TIME AND DATE for another boy in the C's class).
Me: I explained to her that this year was not "my" year for the big birthday party, that I had pointed out the overlap to them, and no, C is turning 7.
Shelly: "Well, nexft year you can pay for the pony rides I guess. Each year you have to up the ante, and do something better than the previous... especially in your case".
...two weeks later...
Shelly: "So, [DD], how was [C]'s birthday?" Me: "I don't know. Like I said, it wasn't my turn"
Shelly: "Hey, [DD], are you going to be at the PTSA Christmas Party?"
Me (having replied on the Evite "No" at least a week prior): "Oh, sorry, I can't make it"
Shelly: "Oh that's ok, we'll all talk about you anyway."
Shelly says these things with a completely straight face and, it must be said, with a charming lack of concern. Her comments bring to light that you are required by the social norms here to up your birthday fabulousness each year for your child (C's was at the Cougar Mountain Zoo, I understand, complete with Santa and Reindeer), and if you don't show up to PTSA events you are thereby forfeitting your right to rebuttal on any comment made about you, you doc-marten-and-jeans-wearing single-mom hussy!
And I believe her, too.
On both counts.
]]>TIME IS COMING TOO FAST SLOW THAT PUPPY DOWN!
Blegh.
Ok, my mood is a bit colored (admittedly) by the newly acquired snarfly nose and general inclination to punctuate every movement of my body with "oof" as a result of an also newly acquired backache.
This week was spent getting the C's holiday project in, purchasing gifts for strangers (Giving trees), wrapping said gifts, having the C's birthday (coolest. cake. Evar!), crate training Thumps (who had decided recently that the library was an excellent place to pee), decorating for Christmas, shampooing carpets (see Thumps), and selling our piano.
I had high hopes for the C when he initially showed interest in the piano, which belonged to my Old Man. My Old Man can beat anyone playing piano, except perhaps Liberace, and then I think he could probably beat Liberace if only we got him a rhinestone jacket. The C is no longer interested in piano and for the last 18 months or so it has decorated the library and valiantly kept up the umpteen photos of the C I have. I placed an ad on Craislist 44 hours ago. It sold this morning.
I may have underpriced it. My dad's advice (and whose permission I sought pre-sale) was to sell it for what it cost me to tune it and move it. That was $85 becaue I didn't tune it yet; I've sold it for significantly more than that (and apparently significantly less than what others are selling for). With the filthy lucre I get I will get a DESK, and cease to use my sideboard as one.
Life is exciting here in the suburbs. I'm going to medicate some more and and watch Emeril make fig newtons. I'm sure there are a bunch of things I've got to do, but I'm in a haze of dueling Christmas light decorations (with the neighbors: across the street is full-on tacky; to the north is full-on elegance, and to the south is nonexistent. Mine are le Target basic).
Next post on Hanukkah...
]]>I remember when I first saw the EDS Catherder's commercial. It was 1999 and I was in my little apartment in Oceanside, with 3 cats and a large bottle of white zinfandel and a coffee table that I was supposedly putting together. I paused, with a screwdriver in one hand and a glass of the awful pink stuff in the other, and watched the whole thing, and thought to myself: there is no way managing people or projects is really that bad. Then I promptly stripped the screw in the corner of the table; it still is a bit wobbly on that end ten years later.
Fast forward 10 years and Catherding defines what I do at work, each year, from Thanksgiving to Martin Luther King Day. These holidays have nothing to do with the actual projects, that just happens to be when they fall.
I've blogged about this before:every year we get together and redefine our geography so we can redefine our productivity. This year I thought to myself that if I could just take on more of the process, I could make it work better! I could! So instead of doing just the fiscal bit, I took on the geographies as well. I made use of technology (MOSS 07, MapPoint 2010, SS2k5 and 2k8) and screenshots and time, and created a simple, logical, path for people to follow (13 people, to be precise) with plenty of lead time for them (3 weeks).
The first two weeks there were encouraging thank-yous and complements on what I had done by all. By week three (that would be the last week) there was rising panic, which I quelled by individual half-hour mentoring sessions. By the end of week three I was having to go back and re-do parts of my work because others had not decided to look at things until the very end. In one instance, I had to redo a couple of worksheets (at about an hour apiece) THREE TIMES for the SAME PERSON because he couldn't quite figure out what he really wanted.
Each year I come away with this feeling spent and wrung and awful. Each year I vow next year will not make me do this, and that I will make things smoother. What I have discovered is I'm making the process more accurate and more simple: for everyone else. In the meantime, my sanity is slowly flushing down the toilet as I process the monetary drives that run into ten (count 'em) digits. Before the decimal point.
I could do with a shiny fraction of that, methinks.
]]>I'm done.
It was my worst half marathon time ever (2:59:03) BUT hey, I was gimpy this time and wasn't the last two. Also, my heart really wasn't in it. There was an element of self loathing that came into play that I'm not sure I really want to explore, but not too long ago I was silently cursing my knee, pointing out that I had in fact babied it, did everything the PT and Sport MD said, and it still wasn't behaving much past 8 miles. Today I forced it to 13.1 and it's a bit swollen and hurts like hell, but I'm done, and I won.
Take that.
Next year I'm doing at least two triathlons. The benefit here is that in a Sprint Tri you only run 3 miles, in a Olympic you run 6, which I can handle just fine. Also, I want to get some use out of that bike and my swimming could use improving. Finally, I need to keep up with something, because if I don't I will get fat. I have really and truly not dieted in the last year and few months, and it's nice to actually be in better shape and fitting clothing better. So if I can't keep it with running long distances, I'd better keep it with running short distances combined with other things.
Now if you will excuse me, I'm gonna go put on my finisher's hoodie and eat more than my body weight in eggs benedict.
]]>Having had a Thanksgiving last weekend, I decided there was absolutely nothing wrong with a repeat: in this case though I let someone else be hostess and enjoyed myself. Rather. A. Lot.
Yesterday I got up (rather a lot late) and after some this-and-that went wine tasting. Also. Rather. A. Lot. At some point someone suggested going out to eat for dinner and I pointed out I could cook 'em all some Chicken Cacciatore. Which I did and we ate and we watched the Boondock Saints, because it's important to watch warm and fuzzy movies during the holidays.
This morning I got my knee taped, and picked up my packet, because tomorrow I'm going to be running. Rather. A. Lot.
]]>"I love the mountains, I love the sun so bright..." and so goes Discovery Channel's second "The World is Awesome" commercial, which is just... awesome. (You can see it on You Tube, or the Discovery Channel, or even read about it on Wikipedia). I am so very late to this party.
Tonight is when I actually saw the entire 2nd commercial, not knowing even that there was a first. They are exceptionally well done, funny, almost viral; they leave you wanting to see them again and with a warm and fuzzy feeling for even the most hardened sceptic.
This year, Discovery apparently encouraged everyone to do their own spoof. I kind of want to do one with the C of his life... I can see it now:
"I love the mountains, I love the sun so bright,
I love the Legos, and Transformers might,
I love computers, and Jimmy Neutron too
Boom De Ada Boom De Ada Boom De Ada Boom De Ada
I love the play dates, I love the tether ball,
I love the monkey bars, I love the leaves in fall,
I love the reading, the kind that mothers do,
Boom Da Ada Boom De Ada Boom De Ada Boom De Ada
I love my puppies, I love my fish named Luke,
I love math stuff, and yes that is a fluke,
I love my music, especially my Uke
Boom De Ada Boom De Ada Boom De Ada Boom De Ada
I love my scooter, and my bike too,
I love Sword Fit, and maybe tricking you,
I love my XBox, it's what I like to do,
Boom De Ada Boom De Ada Boom De Ada Boom De Ada
Boom De Ada Boom De Ada Boom De Ada Boom De Ada
Boom.
]]>The C had a rough day at school the other day and, when we were reviewing his day, started hitting himself. That drives me nuts, and I usually beg him to stop or admonish him. It's his way of punishing himself, and it is disturbing to watch and more disturbing to know your kid is hurting himself.
So I figured I'd try my parent's tactic: to talk to him at my level and let him know how I deal with pooey days. Because guess what? Mommy has rough days too. We talked about how if I'm overwhelmed I go into Tolga the Data God's office and whine and plead (true), and the C points out that I'm saying that just to make him feel better. I'll take him in soon to clear that up.
Then I talked about what I do to make myself feel better after a rough day: I... clean.
It was like someone opened a big, gaping window into my subconscious and out came all the smoke and other awful smells: holy crap, I'm an OCD cleanfreak because I'm unhappy with myself. Well, no, not quite that drastic. But I clean because it is something I can control: project isn't going to ship because skiplevel changes everything, ON SHIP DAY? Time to wax the floors; at least that will be awesome.
I'm coming to find out that as a parent you find out at least as much about yourself as you do about this junior human you're in charge of. I've also discovered I'm really, truly, not that good with change.
Unless it's change I know is coming.
You see, if I know a project is going to be riddled with change and uncertainty, I am Totally Copacetic. I will contingency plan and be smug when plan number 457 comes true (out of plans 1-13,492). This explains why the first few (15 or so) X changed tactics or things got shirty with him I freaked out: this was supposed to be a stable, non-changing thing (once divorced). Now that I know it won't be, the latest cryptic email or snyde comment bothers me only slightly less than the newest chin hair to be tweezed.
Did I mention my skiplevel changed the project on ship day? That was this Monday.
It shipped with all the changes Wednesday. And my boss thinks I'm awesome.
]]>Las Vegas gives you the opportunity to view your fellow man/woman at their presumable best and their presumable worst. Dine out in a fancy restaurant (as we did at Fleur de Lys) and you see him/her at their best: dressed nicely, observing manners, eating leisurely, etc. We spent 3 hours in that restaurant and at no time did it get boring or too leisurely; I recommend getting the PrixFixe and the Chef's wine pairings (yum!). Only downer, and this was very very very slight, is that, being the only group of single women at a table and being oogled by the only group of single men 3 tables away. Oogling is nice, but it shouldn't be a constant oogle. More like an occasional oogle. Say, one per dish.
You also get to see your fellow man/woman at their presumable worst: the chainsmoking granny in a wheelchair WITH her oxygen tank, the guy who literally walked up and grabbed me (Him: "Hey, there you are!" Me (pushing him off): "Oh my God..."), the tourists who literally stop mid-walkway and block access to stores, food, drinks, etc. for the rest of us who have done Vegas and are able to glide by moving statues in Caesar's Palace without gawking.
I had one of the best trips to Vegas I've ever had. There was no drama, which is unusual from my Vegas history. There was no pennypinching, and no massive exravagance (the only purchase I made at the forum shops was from BCBG and was $118... before 50% off). (It is also crazy hot). About the time I got tired of shopping and walking (the former is not usually my thing) my compatriots were too; I spent about 3-4 hours in those shops and not once was I bored. If I were to acquire a shoe habit (Nomi brought 7 pairs. 7. pairs.) I could do it there, though: for some reason at one point leopard print peep-toe pumps with a 4" heel seemed extremely reasonable.
I didn't gamble at all; I'm not sure how I feel about that. Part of me misses the blackjack table. Part of me is patting myself on the back that that means I have something to show for my expenditures (oh, MAC, I love you...).
But all of me is going back to Vegas... in 2010... when they open the new Star Trek Experience. Warp speed to next year!
]]>THEHotel. Oh, THEHotel. It is beautiful. There are dimly lit corridors stuffed with marble and sumptuous carpets and elegant flower arrangements and terribly disturbing art. The toiletries are many and varied, attend me: hair cleanser (not shampoo), hair masque (not conditioner), body masque (not lotion), 3 kinds of soap, a sewing kit, shoe polish kit, the ubuquitous and yet never actually used shower cap, and a real glass holder with real cotton balls. The shower is separate from the tub (which could fit two very understanding people) (so could the shower) and there are two potties in our suite! When you have 3 girls to one room, that is just right.
Incidentally, I am eating the most expensive Starbucks breakfast I have ever had. That would be a $4 grande nonfat latte and a $3.50 croissant; while on my $20/day wifi. It's a good thing I turned in early last night (11ish) and didn't hit the tables with the girls :p.
Actually, what has happened is far more disturbing: as I landed in LAS I got an email from work: six months ago our computers got infected with a virus that saved, among other things, passwords and keystrokes. It then sent them out somewhere. E.g, if you had ever gone to your bank account via a work machine, you should probably change all of your passwords. Again: I got this when I landed. In baggage claim. In Las Vegas.
After checking in I got online and changed all of my passwords and all of my pins. However, with my new pins being sent to me -- at least for my main account -- I am stuck without the ability to get cash. That is to say, I can get cash, if I get it off of my card as if it were a credit card, and then I would pay $20 for the honor. I can't bring myself to outright pay the $20 for the privilege of losing another $100 at the table (at least the table part would be entertaining). I may work a barter system with the girls.
We did however sample the local bars here in the hotel (including MIX, at the top, which has an amazing view) and did a little light shoe-shopping. This morning I went for a run, and today promises real shopping, as some of us (cough) underpacked on the dressy clothes. We also have appointments for someone to professionally apply colorings to our face (e.g., we're getting MAC'd) and then a French dinner at Fleur de Lis followed by "O", which two of us have never seen.
Then I will get exactly four hours of sleep before hightailing it to the airport (whee...).
This is, in short, a very different Vegas experience from my past trips: no one is getting drunk and disorderly, or missing at the end of the night; there is a higher share of shopping and a lower share of eating; I don't see rides in our future.
Unless I can get them on the NewYorkNewYork...
]]>Greetings from the Southwest Airlines terminal at the Seattle Tacoma International Airport.
I arrived ludicrously early to the airport this morning – as in, two and a half hours early. Bag check and security was negotiated within 20 minutes, and so I headed to Anthony’s for a drink. (I don’t like to fly).
Alas, the rumors of free WiFi via Google were grossly overstated: instead of starting on the 9th, it is now delayed and starting on Monday the 18th. This being the 13th, it does nothing for me, and I do not wish to spend $8 for AT&T Wireless for 2 hours. I’ve spent the last hour or so trying to scrape some free Ethernets from the nearby “hoity toity” clubs (British Air, Delta) to no avail until now.
Why would I pay for in-flight WiFi and not for terminal WiFi? Well, yours truly is on a stop flight (non plane-changing) from Seattle to Las Vegas by way of… wait for it… Salt Lake City. I will be on a plane exactly twice as long as I need to be to save spending twice as much on a ticket. Ergo, my $8 for a realistic 2hrs of WiFi in the terminal would stretch longer on nearly four hours of flight. (Oh, wait, it looks like I’ve just acquired a signal from British Air… with 40 minutes before boarding, awesome!)
Not that I expect to penny-pinch this trip, on the contrary: I’m trying to save on little things because I know in my heart of hearts I will be very bad this weekend. There has been discussion of custom face makeup application and fancy dress and fancier restaurants; of coercing concierges for favors. But the house taxes are paid and the savings account is getting better, I think I will be ok. Thanks to a work hookup, we are staying at THEHotel at Mandalay Bay (as much as my spell check does not like the way that is spelled, that is how it is spelled). I have brought my running gear, which should hopefully offset all of the gastric and alcoholic excess. Or, it will sit untouched in my bag while I, and my two cohorts, galavant.
Pursuant to this trip I spent yesterday in a frenzy of tying up work loose ends, obsessive cleaning, hair-cutting-and-coloring (I didn’t do it myself, which is why it turned out well), and general whack-a-mole-ing. I was, in effect, earning my time to Quark’s Bar.
Which is not to be: while trying to find a link for the infamous “Warp Core Breach” I have discovered that the Star Trek Experience at the Las Vegas Hilton is no more! Curses! It is set to reopen at the Neonopolis Mall… in 2010.
I am at a loss for words. That was one of my favorite things about Vegas, it was literally a required stop from the time it opened. The last time I went I dragged some six members of a bridal party to go feel Ferengi ears. Yes, I am a geek; but dammit, man! Dry ice in a fishbowl with 7 shots of Rum is nothing to sneer at!
Oh, sure, I can acquire foot-long margaritas and make do. I suppose there is some new/shiny/better gimmicky thing in Vegas – for that is what Vegas does best – but I really think it’s unfair they didn’t consult me. That they are coming up with a new/shiny/better one Next Year is beside the point, I haven’t booked that trip yet.
Take off is in 50 minutes. Next post courtesy of SWA WiFi… maybe…