Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Day 11110011 - Rose
The Neighborhood Drama Queen and Her Art of Diplomacy
“I do no think that word means what you think it means” ~Princess Bride
That was my initial reaction when I listened to the message from my neighbor. She has decided that the situation with the chickens is “untenable”.
Then, my second reaction was “what the fuck?” She has NEVER, ever, talked to me about the chickens before, yet now the situation is untenable. What?!!
But, did she stop there? No, she kept going. In her attempt to be “diplomatic”, she failed miserably. In the end, I was annoyed. A neighbor who we had a great relationship with decided not to simply speak to us about her concerns. No, she left me a rant complete with exact expectations as to what she expected us to do to resolve the situation. What’s ironic? She has it wrong. If she knew so much about the chickens and how they were escaping, she would know they can’t escape in several of the places she claims they are escaping from. There is no way they can. There is only one way they get out - we all know it - those of us who have observed it and deal with it most. This really made it her ranting at us because of a single time dealing with the situation.
I wondered as I drove home if she was speaking on behalf of all the residents. She was speaking as though maybe she was. Then I got home and discovered there were no residents home but her.
Before I continue my rant, I should point out that I take full responsibility for those fucking chickens. I have spent hours trying to contain them. I have “discussed” my concerns in length with G about how we need to remedy the issue. We have clipped wings. I have put up netting. We have apologized. We have given eggs. We have helped them with their yard as repayment. We have built new garden boxes to the woman who is greatly impacted by their escapes. We have done things to keep the peace. If we were doing the retribution without attempts to remedy the problem, they should be pissed at me. I would be pissed at me. But, we aren’t. We are trying to do the right thing while trying to fix the issue. We don’t want the situation to get out of control - it is why we ate the cost of people who helped us do these things. We don’t want pissed off neighbors as our chickens reenact their favorite parts of Chicken Run.
Yet after all of this, I get a two minute voicemail that is her basically all be threatening us. I have yet to figure out what she would threaten us with exactly. I mean, she is a renter. She lives in the unit furthest from our house. She has not been directly impacted by them and their escapes. And the two tenants closest to us care, but don’t care. Both know the chickens are being chickens - and that chickens are escape artists. They both acknowledge our efforts and constantly tell us not to worry about it.
I had to talk myself down as I drove home. I knew if she were to talk to us directly about it, she would take a totally different tone than her voicemail. She is passive aggressive, gossipy, but conflict averse. Kind of a funny combination, huh? I created my plan of attack for when I do. I know she will try to play it off as her just being concerned. She won’t want the chickens to be hurt if they get out. It’s her MO to do this - I’ve seen her do it before. So, if she does it, I’m going to advise her not to leave voicemail in the future as that was not the message I got from her.
Until we can fix the issue, I have told G and the girls the chickens stay in the coop unless we are hope to supervise. I don’t trust her at this point.
I only hope she realizes as she is bitching and moaning in her backyard to her friends that our window to our bedroom is right there next to her yard. She has forgotten this in the past. I doubt I could keep my mouth shut if she forgets it this time, and we are the topics of her conversation.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Day 398 - Pigga
yes, I know my numbering is screwed up. I am just going to stop numbering after this - or continue picking random numbers. Random numbers are more fun.
This is Pigga. She actually has a name, but it always called Pigga for some reason. She is Indigo's guinea pig. Indigo got her three years ago now. Indigo remembers her new birthday, as she calls it - or the day we adopted her from the human society. We got this pig after I saw her take such great care of a classroom guinea pig. Her patience and her loving attitude made me realize she was ready for a small pet of her own. So, we went to the Humane Society and played with guinea pigs they had up for adoption. In the end, she fell in love with Pigga.
Pigga makes me laugh. She always has. She has a funny personality - something I never would have thought much about before we got her. But she is definitely a riot to have around. I had Indigo clean out her cage today - outside - a smart move on my part because she always makes a huge mess inside, then I curse the fact I didn't just do it myself.
Pigga loves the grass. She literally runs through it in a flurry of happiness. Not because she's free per say but because she is surrounded by her favorite food - grass and clover and dandelions. It's like the kids in Willy Wonka when they go into the room where everything is eatable, I mean, edible. She just doesn't know where to start eating. And she eats....a lot. Her little piggy lips will turn green from all of the clover if we allow her to gorge herself on it.
Indigo did an okay job cleaning it. Moe ended up finishing it, so she gave Pigga a bath. Pigga loves water. In fact, she runs into the deep end to swim around in that part of the bathtub. The girls tried telling me that she loves baths. I didn't believe it until I saw it myself. She's a funny girl.
After her bath, she sits on the couch with the girls, wrapped in the towel, and watches cartoons. When I pointed out to Indigo and DJ that she did not watch cartoons, both claimed that to be false. They claim that her head is always pointed toward the TV as she watches. Truth be told, she does enjoy sitting on a towel between them on the couch as they bet her, feed her carrots and watch cartoons. It isn't unusual to walk into my house and see this happening most afternoons. While Pigga has a cage, she spends alot of time out it. So, that's what she did as she dried off enough to go back into her cage.
The dogs are the only ones we have to worry about in terms of threats to her. Both think she's a toy. The cats don't care. In fact, my cat who is the mouser usually watches over her protectively instead of hoping she can get a bite of her.
Such a rough life being a guinea pig in our house.
Re-examining the Word "Slut"
I had two things annoy me on Sunday. One was my MIL who will get her very own post in a day or two. Figure G and I should talk about our plan of attack with that one before I vent about it. The other was an article I read on an online technology magazine - one where it basically says women are the reason women are not in technology, so stop blaming men and/or the institutions. While I am open to that idea (as I do believe women can be our own worst enemy with things) the writer undermines his own premise with his "supporting" points. It annoyed the hell out of me. But, I've decided I am not in the mood to write about those things....yet. I'd rather write about other things.
Like explaining to DJ what a slut was.
We were watching the latest episode of Project Runway on the Tivo when someone called an outfit "slutty".
"What does slutty mean? The book I'm reading uses that word too, and I have no idea what it means. I don't think the characters in the book do either."
I often forget my daughter reads at a higher level than most kids her age. So she grabs books more geared for teenagers. In fact, this current book is about a bunch of teenage girls at camp. I should have realized sex would be part of the storyline.
When she asked the question, I admit that I almost gave the answer "it is someone who has sex with a lot of people". But I paused just as I started saying it. What gave me pause was the fact it does not make clear that calling someone a "slut" is a judgment. It is one person judging another person negatively for their actions. Actions that alone are not necessarily good or bad - they just are. But, this person by calling it a negative name is drawing negative attention to the person's choices - and judging them as a bad person - a slut - making them feel bad for something they may not have felt bad about before.
So, I stopped myself and rethought what I was going to say. I didn't want her flinging that word around or have it flung at her. I wanted her to understand because I know my daughter - if someone calls someone else a slut in front of her, she will ask if they understand what they just called that person. And will likely want an explanation as to why they think that person is doing something bad.
I told her it was a word people call other people who they think are having too much sex. It could be because they are jealous of that person. It could be because there is something that person believes in that makes them believe kissing or holding hands or sex are bad things - and people who do them are bad people - or sluts. I included non-sex activities because I remember being a teenager and having people draw conclusions based on those things, so I wanted her to be aware of that as well. I told her it was a negative word. It was word meant to make people feel bad just like calling someone fat or calling someone stupid.
True to form, DJ gave me situations in her book where that word was tossed around. We talked through why that person may have used that word. In one case, it was jealousy. In another, it was because they thought someone had too many boyfriends. In some cases, it was a joke. In other cases, it was to make people feel bad.
"I don't think it's a word they should be throwing around like they do. It can make someone think the wrong thing who may not understand. I don't think it's a good thing to call anyone. Who cares if they are doing something you wouldn't do? It just means they did something you wouldn't do, right?"
Right.
Like explaining to DJ what a slut was.
We were watching the latest episode of Project Runway on the Tivo when someone called an outfit "slutty".
"What does slutty mean? The book I'm reading uses that word too, and I have no idea what it means. I don't think the characters in the book do either."
I often forget my daughter reads at a higher level than most kids her age. So she grabs books more geared for teenagers. In fact, this current book is about a bunch of teenage girls at camp. I should have realized sex would be part of the storyline.
When she asked the question, I admit that I almost gave the answer "it is someone who has sex with a lot of people". But I paused just as I started saying it. What gave me pause was the fact it does not make clear that calling someone a "slut" is a judgment. It is one person judging another person negatively for their actions. Actions that alone are not necessarily good or bad - they just are. But, this person by calling it a negative name is drawing negative attention to the person's choices - and judging them as a bad person - a slut - making them feel bad for something they may not have felt bad about before.
So, I stopped myself and rethought what I was going to say. I didn't want her flinging that word around or have it flung at her. I wanted her to understand because I know my daughter - if someone calls someone else a slut in front of her, she will ask if they understand what they just called that person. And will likely want an explanation as to why they think that person is doing something bad.
I told her it was a word people call other people who they think are having too much sex. It could be because they are jealous of that person. It could be because there is something that person believes in that makes them believe kissing or holding hands or sex are bad things - and people who do them are bad people - or sluts. I included non-sex activities because I remember being a teenager and having people draw conclusions based on those things, so I wanted her to be aware of that as well. I told her it was a negative word. It was word meant to make people feel bad just like calling someone fat or calling someone stupid.
True to form, DJ gave me situations in her book where that word was tossed around. We talked through why that person may have used that word. In one case, it was jealousy. In another, it was because they thought someone had too many boyfriends. In some cases, it was a joke. In other cases, it was to make people feel bad.
"I don't think it's a word they should be throwing around like they do. It can make someone think the wrong thing who may not understand. I don't think it's a good thing to call anyone. Who cares if they are doing something you wouldn't do? It just means they did something you wouldn't do, right?"
Right.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Day 239&240 - A Sunday Hike
First off, I know I should have posted a picture of my new hair color last night, but I couldn't find any good light when I decided to do it. I finally got annoyed and figured I'd do it today instead. So, here you go....my new red....
And a picture of my camera too.
The girls and I went out to the Columbia River Gorge and went hiking today. We hiked up to the top of a water fall....this waterfall....
We actually go to the top and followed the creek upstream for a while. It was too bad. We could hear the creek, but not really see it. Doesn't matter. The fact the girls pretty much ran up that trail was a lot of fun. And DJ shared with us great facts about plants along the way. I guess her overnight camp was worth the money. She pointed out the plants you can use for toilet paper if out in the wild. She told Indigo all of the names of the various ferns. She also had Indigo reaching into rotting cedar trees so she can feel how soft the bark and wood feels. She also entertained us with tales about how cedar was woven into cloth.
After that hike, we drove to another mini-gorge that the girls had visited a few weeks ago with their grandparents. Indigo waded through the water. DJ looked for bugs. And they both tried to convince me to let them climb through the log jam further upstream.
Up near the road, is a tunnel that allows hikers to go from this hidden gorge to another trail to take them to see another waterfall.
We started our drive with a requested stop at the Vista House - a house that sits overlooking the gorge. I've posted pictures before and will again later this fall when I take another drive out there. The house was actually open today. I swear it is in a perpetual state of restoration. Not today.
I like what they did to the ceiling.
Then, we came home and ate homemade pizza. A nice way to spend a Sunday.
And a picture of my camera too.
The girls and I went out to the Columbia River Gorge and went hiking today. We hiked up to the top of a water fall....this waterfall....
We actually go to the top and followed the creek upstream for a while. It was too bad. We could hear the creek, but not really see it. Doesn't matter. The fact the girls pretty much ran up that trail was a lot of fun. And DJ shared with us great facts about plants along the way. I guess her overnight camp was worth the money. She pointed out the plants you can use for toilet paper if out in the wild. She told Indigo all of the names of the various ferns. She also had Indigo reaching into rotting cedar trees so she can feel how soft the bark and wood feels. She also entertained us with tales about how cedar was woven into cloth.
After that hike, we drove to another mini-gorge that the girls had visited a few weeks ago with their grandparents. Indigo waded through the water. DJ looked for bugs. And they both tried to convince me to let them climb through the log jam further upstream.
Up near the road, is a tunnel that allows hikers to go from this hidden gorge to another trail to take them to see another waterfall.
We started our drive with a requested stop at the Vista House - a house that sits overlooking the gorge. I've posted pictures before and will again later this fall when I take another drive out there. The house was actually open today. I swear it is in a perpetual state of restoration. Not today.
I like what they did to the ceiling.
Then, we came home and ate homemade pizza. A nice way to spend a Sunday.
An Unexpected "Me" Day
G went on his rafting trip Saturday morning. Before he left, he made a mis-step - he planned my Saturday for me.
I do NOT like having my time scheduled without my input. And, in this case, he planned it all despite my desire to not do what he was planning. In fact, my mentioning this point was pretty much ignored which meant I was pretty pissed off.
He had gotten me tickets to see Prairie Home Companion at the zoo before he committed to the trip. I wanted to go, but was not exactly overly excited by it. When I found out he was going to miss it, I told him to sell the tickets - but he didn't pick that up (even when I said 'sell the tickets'). He instead got his parents to take the girls from me, then started to tell me all of the people I could take with me instead.
I had already planned on going to get my hair cut and dyed. He has been wanting me to get my hair redder for a while, and I made a mistake. I told him that I would only do it if it was done professionally. He got me a gift certificate. So, I scheduled the appointment for Saturday (and got my own babysitter not knowing G had scheduled his parents).
I dropped the girls off at their house at lunch, then went to get my hair done. I had never been to this place before - and, to be honest, they passed my test. I told the woman to make a suggestion on what I should do after laying out the parameters: keep the length, must be wash and wear, and must be able to pull it all back if I choose.
Most stylists look at me in horror. The boundary box is not narrow enough. It is too open ended. They are afraid of screwing up.
But, here's the thing. I'm not going to pretend I know "what's in". I'm not going to pretend I know what will look good. That's their job. My expertise is in computers and systems. Want me to give my opinion about that stuff - I can do that. My hair? Nope. Don't ask me. I have no idea. That's their job, in my opinion.
This sylist? She didn't flinch. She said "cool", then went to get a color book to talk red colors. It took us seconds to agree upon the color. "Wow, you're easy" was her comment. Yeah I guess I exude it.
After she got it all in my hair, we waited and waited and waited. She washed it out and gave me a scalp massage. I love having someone else washing my hair anyway, but she has magic fingers. I didn't even need to see the color - she had me at the hair wash.
But, the color - the color was perfect. Then she cut it - and that was good too. She straightened it which was weird, butI didn't care. I was happy it looked like I had hoped.
I finally after many attempts found someone to go with me to the show. We met there - and drank. It was nice. She is a riot. I'll have to tell the story about the concert last year that we attended. She told me all about her in-laws swinging days. Yeah, that's a whole other story.
The show was pretty entertaining.....until the guy in front of us yelled at us for talking. I guess the two guys next to him who were talking more than we were, were not bothering him as much as we were. It's a fucking outdoor amphitheater. People talk. What a dick. Maybe he should drink more.
But, all in all - it was a good day. I haven't had a day alone in a while.
I do NOT like having my time scheduled without my input. And, in this case, he planned it all despite my desire to not do what he was planning. In fact, my mentioning this point was pretty much ignored which meant I was pretty pissed off.
He had gotten me tickets to see Prairie Home Companion at the zoo before he committed to the trip. I wanted to go, but was not exactly overly excited by it. When I found out he was going to miss it, I told him to sell the tickets - but he didn't pick that up (even when I said 'sell the tickets'). He instead got his parents to take the girls from me, then started to tell me all of the people I could take with me instead.
I had already planned on going to get my hair cut and dyed. He has been wanting me to get my hair redder for a while, and I made a mistake. I told him that I would only do it if it was done professionally. He got me a gift certificate. So, I scheduled the appointment for Saturday (and got my own babysitter not knowing G had scheduled his parents).
I dropped the girls off at their house at lunch, then went to get my hair done. I had never been to this place before - and, to be honest, they passed my test. I told the woman to make a suggestion on what I should do after laying out the parameters: keep the length, must be wash and wear, and must be able to pull it all back if I choose.
Most stylists look at me in horror. The boundary box is not narrow enough. It is too open ended. They are afraid of screwing up.
But, here's the thing. I'm not going to pretend I know "what's in". I'm not going to pretend I know what will look good. That's their job. My expertise is in computers and systems. Want me to give my opinion about that stuff - I can do that. My hair? Nope. Don't ask me. I have no idea. That's their job, in my opinion.
This sylist? She didn't flinch. She said "cool", then went to get a color book to talk red colors. It took us seconds to agree upon the color. "Wow, you're easy" was her comment. Yeah I guess I exude it.
After she got it all in my hair, we waited and waited and waited. She washed it out and gave me a scalp massage. I love having someone else washing my hair anyway, but she has magic fingers. I didn't even need to see the color - she had me at the hair wash.
But, the color - the color was perfect. Then she cut it - and that was good too. She straightened it which was weird, butI didn't care. I was happy it looked like I had hoped.
I finally after many attempts found someone to go with me to the show. We met there - and drank. It was nice. She is a riot. I'll have to tell the story about the concert last year that we attended. She told me all about her in-laws swinging days. Yeah, that's a whole other story.
The show was pretty entertaining.....until the guy in front of us yelled at us for talking. I guess the two guys next to him who were talking more than we were, were not bothering him as much as we were. It's a fucking outdoor amphitheater. People talk. What a dick. Maybe he should drink more.
But, all in all - it was a good day. I haven't had a day alone in a while.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Week in Review - Saturday Edition
"I want moobs!" was what Indigo yelled at Wipe Out the other night.
DJ had lost the ability to speak she was laughing so hard.
"I mean, I want the guy with moobs to WIN. That's what I meant!"
It didn't matter what she meant.
When your almost 8 year old declares she wants moobs, it's all over.
Speaking of moobs, DJ declared the other day that her "girls" were not girls but "darlings" - spoken like "dah-lings". Yeah, she's never living this down.
In four days this week, I worked 36 hours. And about 30 of those hours were sitting in a meeting with the fuck-head executive. Those are hours I will never get back.
Have you ever heard the story about the blind men and the elephant? There is an elephant in a room with blind men. The men each use their hands to determine what is in the room with them. One feels the trunk and declares the thing in the room with them is a tree branch. Another feels the tail and declares it is rope. Another feels the leg and declares it to be a pillar. Each has a different perspective of the elephant because they only have their part. That was exactly what happened after my two-day meeting. Each person in that room heard only the piece that interested them. The day after was trying to explain to them that they did indeed see an elephant. Thursday was a long LONG day of setting expectation.
Reminds me of a quote I read recently "Expectation is the root of all heartache" by Shakespeare. Yep. Their poor expectations gives me heartache. Very true.
I came home from work on Thursday to the living room destroyed by the kids. Walking into chaos drives me nuts. Clearly the girls had some screen time given what I found in front of the TV. I called them both inside the house and started making them clean up their mess. Our yellow lab is doing is summer molt which means he's leaving huge amounts of fur all over the place. I grabbed a broom to sweep it up, when under the TV cabinet I find it: the dehydrated mouse.
My calico is the mouser of the two cats. She catches mice all of the time - inside and out. The problem? She likes to play with the carcass. I think she hopes they will spring back to life and become the great toy they were when they were alive, so she carries them around and bats at them hoping the dead mouse will come back to life. Usually when she gets bored, she leaves it someplace where we quickly find it. Normally in the middle of the room in a path we walk. This time, she left it under the cabinet. The girls had some of their "crafts" over it, so when I pulled out this dead mouse and pointed out that they had sat in front of the TV all morning with their friend, the dead mouse - they both were a bit grossed out by it. But, that living room was cleaned up quickly as they hoped I would not find another one.
Our friends leave this weekend for their next great adventure - teaching in Egypt. I have to admire them for doing it. Several years back, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. Imagine going in for your first mammogram and getting called saying you need to see a doctor because they found something. And they found out a few months after she miscarried too. So, in the span of six months, she was diagnosed with cancer, lost the ability to have children, and went through chemo and radiation. Oh, and radiation burns on the nipples are not fun, or so she told me. After being declared "no evidence of disease", she trained and walked her first marathon. Then she went back to school to get her master's degree in teaching. Then they decided to sell everything and teach overseas. They got an offer almost immediately. Her husband, a classmate of ours from college, has lived overseas before, and he is beyond excited to go back with the wife. We're excited for them too. Sad we are going to miss our friends - but excited for them and their new adventure. Truly two people who saw how short life could be - and are seizing the moment.
Speaking of seizing the moment, G is gone all weekend. He is on a rafting trip....with a minister and his church group. The guy is a parent of a student. One thing you may or may not know about G is that he is a Buddhist. He had to buy a bible for this trip as there will be nightly studies. This should be entertaining because G is great at interjecting statements like "you know, Jesus would have made a great Buddhist." This should be interesting.
My week did end on a high note. It's funny how a short conversation with a friend can be the salve you need. Friday morning, I had a short conversation with him. For me, I have been having a difficult time articulating why everything is bugging me - why change is bugging me. And that has even bugged me. He got it. He understood. He didn't think I was being weird. He thought it made perfect sense as it was how he would feel too. When he shared his own thoughts, they were in a way no one had before. No smoke and mirrors. Not overly blunt. Just sincere and honest. This is why I call him my friend. While we may scare each other at times - especially times when we realize we are scary alike in our thinking, it is that commonality that helps where no one else can. And because I know he's reading this, I just need to say (because I don't think I made it clear enough yesterday) "thank you, sexy. And I love you. I hope you know how much I appreciate you."
Just so I don't leave you with too much sap, I leave you with the comic of what would have happened if G and I visited the God Protecting Children:
DJ had lost the ability to speak she was laughing so hard.
"I mean, I want the guy with moobs to WIN. That's what I meant!"
It didn't matter what she meant.
When your almost 8 year old declares she wants moobs, it's all over.
Speaking of moobs, DJ declared the other day that her "girls" were not girls but "darlings" - spoken like "dah-lings". Yeah, she's never living this down.
In four days this week, I worked 36 hours. And about 30 of those hours were sitting in a meeting with the fuck-head executive. Those are hours I will never get back.
Have you ever heard the story about the blind men and the elephant? There is an elephant in a room with blind men. The men each use their hands to determine what is in the room with them. One feels the trunk and declares the thing in the room with them is a tree branch. Another feels the tail and declares it is rope. Another feels the leg and declares it to be a pillar. Each has a different perspective of the elephant because they only have their part. That was exactly what happened after my two-day meeting. Each person in that room heard only the piece that interested them. The day after was trying to explain to them that they did indeed see an elephant. Thursday was a long LONG day of setting expectation.
Reminds me of a quote I read recently "Expectation is the root of all heartache" by Shakespeare. Yep. Their poor expectations gives me heartache. Very true.
I came home from work on Thursday to the living room destroyed by the kids. Walking into chaos drives me nuts. Clearly the girls had some screen time given what I found in front of the TV. I called them both inside the house and started making them clean up their mess. Our yellow lab is doing is summer molt which means he's leaving huge amounts of fur all over the place. I grabbed a broom to sweep it up, when under the TV cabinet I find it: the dehydrated mouse.
My calico is the mouser of the two cats. She catches mice all of the time - inside and out. The problem? She likes to play with the carcass. I think she hopes they will spring back to life and become the great toy they were when they were alive, so she carries them around and bats at them hoping the dead mouse will come back to life. Usually when she gets bored, she leaves it someplace where we quickly find it. Normally in the middle of the room in a path we walk. This time, she left it under the cabinet. The girls had some of their "crafts" over it, so when I pulled out this dead mouse and pointed out that they had sat in front of the TV all morning with their friend, the dead mouse - they both were a bit grossed out by it. But, that living room was cleaned up quickly as they hoped I would not find another one.
Our friends leave this weekend for their next great adventure - teaching in Egypt. I have to admire them for doing it. Several years back, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. Imagine going in for your first mammogram and getting called saying you need to see a doctor because they found something. And they found out a few months after she miscarried too. So, in the span of six months, she was diagnosed with cancer, lost the ability to have children, and went through chemo and radiation. Oh, and radiation burns on the nipples are not fun, or so she told me. After being declared "no evidence of disease", she trained and walked her first marathon. Then she went back to school to get her master's degree in teaching. Then they decided to sell everything and teach overseas. They got an offer almost immediately. Her husband, a classmate of ours from college, has lived overseas before, and he is beyond excited to go back with the wife. We're excited for them too. Sad we are going to miss our friends - but excited for them and their new adventure. Truly two people who saw how short life could be - and are seizing the moment.
Speaking of seizing the moment, G is gone all weekend. He is on a rafting trip....with a minister and his church group. The guy is a parent of a student. One thing you may or may not know about G is that he is a Buddhist. He had to buy a bible for this trip as there will be nightly studies. This should be entertaining because G is great at interjecting statements like "you know, Jesus would have made a great Buddhist." This should be interesting.
My week did end on a high note. It's funny how a short conversation with a friend can be the salve you need. Friday morning, I had a short conversation with him. For me, I have been having a difficult time articulating why everything is bugging me - why change is bugging me. And that has even bugged me. He got it. He understood. He didn't think I was being weird. He thought it made perfect sense as it was how he would feel too. When he shared his own thoughts, they were in a way no one had before. No smoke and mirrors. Not overly blunt. Just sincere and honest. This is why I call him my friend. While we may scare each other at times - especially times when we realize we are scary alike in our thinking, it is that commonality that helps where no one else can. And because I know he's reading this, I just need to say (because I don't think I made it clear enough yesterday) "thank you, sexy. And I love you. I hope you know how much I appreciate you."
Just so I don't leave you with too much sap, I leave you with the comic of what would have happened if G and I visited the God Protecting Children:
click to make big.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Day 238 - Face in the Sun
Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see the shadow. It's what sunflowers do.
~Helen Keller
Corrective Action Plan
"We have to talk."
I hate those words.
I hate hearing those words as they usually mean the worst.
I walked into your makeshift office. You were sitting there in front of your computer, but you turned towards me and motioned for me to shut the door.
"I have a problem with your performance."
I paused, waiting hear the rest. There is always more - and it can never be good.
"Come here."
I walked closer to you, and your hands closed around my wrists, pulling me down to you.
"I have had complaints," you growled into my ear, "but I know what will correct your behavior."
You kissed me hard, then pulling me down so I was across your lap.
You lifted my skirt knowing I don't wear panties which made your punishment easier.
Then I felt your hand smack my ass as you told me the complaints.
"They say you are too condescending."
Whack!
"They don't like you arguing with them."
Whack!
"You are too much of a smart ass"
Whack!
"And they said you rolled your eyes at their last request."
Whack!
"You can't treat our clients..."
Whack!
"...like"
Whack!
"....that!"
Whack!
"Do you understand?"
"Yes" was my simple reply.
"Good"
Whack!
Then you stood me back up facing you.
"I'm sorry."
You sat back in your chair and looked up at me.
"Are you really?" You know me too well.
"I am," I replied silently adding in a 'maybe'.
Then I smiled as I asked "Can we discuss my raise now?" as I sank to my knees and placed my hand on the fly of your pants.....
I hate those words.
I hate hearing those words as they usually mean the worst.
I walked into your makeshift office. You were sitting there in front of your computer, but you turned towards me and motioned for me to shut the door.
"I have a problem with your performance."
I paused, waiting hear the rest. There is always more - and it can never be good.
"Come here."
I walked closer to you, and your hands closed around my wrists, pulling me down to you.
"I have had complaints," you growled into my ear, "but I know what will correct your behavior."
You kissed me hard, then pulling me down so I was across your lap.
You lifted my skirt knowing I don't wear panties which made your punishment easier.
Then I felt your hand smack my ass as you told me the complaints.
"They say you are too condescending."
Whack!
"They don't like you arguing with them."
Whack!
"You are too much of a smart ass"
Whack!
"And they said you rolled your eyes at their last request."
Whack!
"You can't treat our clients..."
Whack!
"...like"
Whack!
"....that!"
Whack!
"Do you understand?"
"Yes" was my simple reply.
"Good"
Whack!
Then you stood me back up facing you.
"I'm sorry."
You sat back in your chair and looked up at me.
"Are you really?" You know me too well.
"I am," I replied silently adding in a 'maybe'.
Then I smiled as I asked "Can we discuss my raise now?" as I sank to my knees and placed my hand on the fly of your pants.....
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
HNT - Wish
click me please
I have been so tired.
Tired of feeling down.
Tired of the shit at work.
Tired of not feeling wanted.
Tired of not having time and having friends without time.
I'm just tired.
I want to crawl under my covers and sleep.
Hoping to awake to a new day.
Where people have time.
Work doesn't suck.
And I smile all of the time.
Where I feel wanted.
And sexy
And fulfilled
emotionally
mentally
and
sexually
I know it will cum again.
Here is hoping
It happens sooner
Rather than later.
I can feel it's coming.
Please come.
I miss it.
Check out Os to see who else is playing.
Or OHNT for some other sexy fun.
Tired of feeling down.
Tired of the shit at work.
Tired of not feeling wanted.
Tired of not having time and having friends without time.
I'm just tired.
I want to crawl under my covers and sleep.
Hoping to awake to a new day.
Where people have time.
Work doesn't suck.
And I smile all of the time.
Where I feel wanted.
And sexy
And fulfilled
emotionally
mentally
and
sexually
I know it will cum again.
Here is hoping
It happens sooner
Rather than later.
I can feel it's coming.
Please come.
I miss it.
Check out Os to see who else is playing.
Or OHNT for some other sexy fun.
His Brand of Motivation
"A leader leads by example whether he intends to or not."
~Unknown
This small, short quotation flashed upon my screen when I was working yesterday - sitting in five hours worth of meeting hell before lunch. I found the coincidence to be quite humorous really as the executive in the meeting was ranting about how the consultants onsite were to "listen to what his team had to say, but don't believe them because they don't know anything". And his team was sitting right there in the meeting.
He calls this motivation.
I call it being an asshat as well as being an incompetent leader.
I mean, if his entire team - including those that were hired under his watch - are considered incompetent, then clearly someone needs to look in the mirror to see true incompetence.
I have managed many people over the years. I have had some great hires - people I still to this day will help because they are hard workers, good with people, continually learning, and good with technology. I have had some bad ones too. And I am happy to say that I either managed them out (got them to see it was time for them to leave) or fired them. Bad people are like poison to a good team, so as a boss, it was my job to deal with it.
Regardless of the individuals, I never criticized them openly to consultants. I never criticized them to the users they supported. I never criticized them to peers. If I had issues, I worked with HR and/or the other IT managers. And I always focused on the issues not the people. Except for that one time, but that guy was a dumb ass who deserved to get knocked on his ass repeatedly. (In the end, he decided it was best for him to leave before he got fired. I concurred.)
And I managed them based on expectations. If they were a newbie, I would micromanage them, but teach them how to approach problem solving or tacking tasks or dealing with certain people. If they were experienced, I would give them the vision of what needed to get done, set expectations, and have them go do their job. It's called situational management among other names.
To see these managers here not able to access what their team's need - not seeing them dealing with performance issues at the detriment of projects and day-to-day task - just drives me bonkers.
And I get to deal with the ramifications.
If a junior manager sees his boss be rude and overly assertive where he should not, he emulates the behavior because he thinks it is acceptable. I had that one yesterday when the finance manager decided to talk down to me. Fuck you, little buddy, I have more experience in my little finger than you do in your whole body. I don't give a damn what letters are behind your name (MBA, in case you are wondering) - it doesn't mean people believe you can do anything if you can't communication at a rudimentary level. Plus, I could also throw a rock right now and find an unemployed MBA to take his spot. Trust me, I've worked with many over the years who got the degree, but couldn't do the work.
Or dealing with two other of his junior managers who are like super fun balls constantly bouncing around the room as they go whatever direction he smacks them this time. The result is they are never successful. They piss everyone off. They don't get anything done. And you can't count on them for anything.
Or his head accountant who is supposedly a CPA but operates at the level of an accounting clerk. The only thing he does well is get spun up like his boss whenever something minor occurs. And he complains. Oh man, does this guy take complaining to a whole new level. He rarely solves the problem. But, I get to hear from him how great of a public accountant he once was. Yeah.
As you can see, he has created his own problems. A group full of people who individually and outside of his leadership could operate at a very high level and be very productive - but under his wing are incompetent nut cases.
Now that is definitely motivating me each day - to leave on-time and never put a lot of stock in anything they say.
But, to quote a wise woman (despite her fear of sexuality in general, let alone her own) Eleanor Roosevelt, "I am not inferior without my consent". These guys all keep coming back for more each and every fucking day. If I were in their shoes, I would have told the man to fuck off and left. To quote a boss who I loved and was a fabulous mentor, "no one comes to work to be treated like that."
I just wish they would remember that the door swings both ways.
But hey, some people like being treated like shit. I guess for them, they get the experience of a domme AND get paid. I guess I can only hope they are getting off on it.
Now that's an image I shouldn't have put in my head.
Excuse me as I attempt to find a way to get rid of it.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Day 227 - Moon Rise
TL - because I know you keep track, this was a many MANY beer day. :)
Anyway, while eating dinner on their back deck, we watched the moon rise from behind the foothills. It was gorgeous. Their house is outside of Portland, so the girls were on the verge of laying in the backyard to see the stars. You know your kids are city kids when they see more than a handfull of stars and think the sky is crowded with them. Gotta get them out more.
It was a nice evening. Now I'll have a beer and hopefully fall asleep for a full night of sleep.
Another full 9hours of meetings awaits me. I mean, they want to work through lunch.
yay.
Childhood Memories
Before I start this post, I want to say that I write it not disrespecting anyone. A blogger who I will keep anonymous unless she chooses to out herself wrote a post the other day that reminded me about my own childhood, so this is my own reflections. Reflections from a child's point of view.
I've mentioned before that we grew up in a family that was classified working poor. Both parents worked. There were three kids. And they made enough that we did not qualify for free lunches, but we did qualify for reduced lunches. And any free cheese or butter or other government subsidized stuff they gave out.
My parents did not have health insurance for several years - years that coincided with some of the worst ear infections that I had. When I was 6 and had tube put into them and adenoids removed, they didn't have insurance. My parents paid that surgery off when I was 20. My mom paid about $5 a week on it because it was enough that the collections people couldn't take her to court for non-payment.
My youngest brother and I were just recalling recently how in awe we have always been with my mom's shopping skills. She did coupons at times, but she just knew the sales. There were some weeks she went to the store with $30 - and fed us for the whole week including lunches during the year my parents made a hair too much to qualify for reduced lunches.
My parents barely lived paycheck to paycheck. It was before credit cards were thrown at everyone, so if you didn't have the money, you went into full negotiation mode. My mom was the master at knowing who she could float payments with if she needed to do it. And because my mom always got it paid off quickly, they would negotiate with her. She was an honest poor person. I had been to the dentist exactly 3 times by the time I was 21 because the family annual limit was such that they couldn't afford check-ups and my parents dental work. Thankfully between fluoride in the water and brushing, my brothers and I never had dental issues. In fact, none of us had cavities until we were adults. We only started regular checkups with our doctors when we were required to have them for sports.
School years stressed my mom out. She saved for months leading up to it. Why? Because she knew that the budget couldn't absorb that big hit. And when we started playing sports in high school, part time jobs were essential so that we could pay all of fees and such. There were rarely new school clothes. Shoes were the only new things we could count on, assuming we needed them. Replace sports shoes after so many miles of wear? Nope. I didn't get a new pair of cleats until I bought them in college. I got them when I was in 8th grade. Running shoes were replaced annually. I never replaced my basketball shoes. And if anything weird showed up on our class lists, my mom would discuss them with the teacher. We did not live in an area where schools helped those who couldn't afford it.
This was my childhood.
Do I remember this? Absolutely. It was stressful for my parents. Over the past few years, we have talked about how this impacted my parents. How much they wanted to give us the stuff other kids got - and how they felt guilty they could not. For us, we recall the stress more than the fact we didn't get it. We hated seeing our parents that way. We remember that more than what we didn't have.
But, as we tell them, while other kids got that stuff, most kids didn't get this stuff:
The rest is just stuff. Stuff comes and go - but memories, memories are what you take with you. They don't get lost in a fire. They don't get lost. They don't get misplaced. And they don't cost money.
Whenever my parents wish openly they could give us more as kids, this is what we remind them.
Because none of it, they have anything to be sorry about.
I've mentioned before that we grew up in a family that was classified working poor. Both parents worked. There were three kids. And they made enough that we did not qualify for free lunches, but we did qualify for reduced lunches. And any free cheese or butter or other government subsidized stuff they gave out.
My parents did not have health insurance for several years - years that coincided with some of the worst ear infections that I had. When I was 6 and had tube put into them and adenoids removed, they didn't have insurance. My parents paid that surgery off when I was 20. My mom paid about $5 a week on it because it was enough that the collections people couldn't take her to court for non-payment.
My youngest brother and I were just recalling recently how in awe we have always been with my mom's shopping skills. She did coupons at times, but she just knew the sales. There were some weeks she went to the store with $30 - and fed us for the whole week including lunches during the year my parents made a hair too much to qualify for reduced lunches.
My parents barely lived paycheck to paycheck. It was before credit cards were thrown at everyone, so if you didn't have the money, you went into full negotiation mode. My mom was the master at knowing who she could float payments with if she needed to do it. And because my mom always got it paid off quickly, they would negotiate with her. She was an honest poor person. I had been to the dentist exactly 3 times by the time I was 21 because the family annual limit was such that they couldn't afford check-ups and my parents dental work. Thankfully between fluoride in the water and brushing, my brothers and I never had dental issues. In fact, none of us had cavities until we were adults. We only started regular checkups with our doctors when we were required to have them for sports.
School years stressed my mom out. She saved for months leading up to it. Why? Because she knew that the budget couldn't absorb that big hit. And when we started playing sports in high school, part time jobs were essential so that we could pay all of fees and such. There were rarely new school clothes. Shoes were the only new things we could count on, assuming we needed them. Replace sports shoes after so many miles of wear? Nope. I didn't get a new pair of cleats until I bought them in college. I got them when I was in 8th grade. Running shoes were replaced annually. I never replaced my basketball shoes. And if anything weird showed up on our class lists, my mom would discuss them with the teacher. We did not live in an area where schools helped those who couldn't afford it.
This was my childhood.
Do I remember this? Absolutely. It was stressful for my parents. Over the past few years, we have talked about how this impacted my parents. How much they wanted to give us the stuff other kids got - and how they felt guilty they could not. For us, we recall the stress more than the fact we didn't get it. We hated seeing our parents that way. We remember that more than what we didn't have.
But, as we tell them, while other kids got that stuff, most kids didn't get this stuff:
- The hours of playing catch with their dad in the front yard. We did. And we had great conversations about the sport - but about life - and stories about his life - as we tossed that ball back and forth.
- The hours of keep away from my brother we played with the Nerf football. The tackling. The laughter.
- The game of "can we get Emmy to shoot soda from her nose" during a BBQ or Thanksgiving dinner. To this day, I will not drink a beverage at Thanksgiving - or at least in front of them as it is still a goal. And with my dad and my brother equally contributing to the humor, I'm pretty much screwed. Soda is the worst, by the way - but milk is not walk in the park either.
- The camping trips. While we couldn't afford to fly anywhere, we went camping weekends and a week every summer. The hours around the camp fires. The breakfast of pancakes and coffee. The fun we would have feeding marshmallows to our black lab Black. Fishing for chipmunks with generic Cheetos tied to the end of the line. Swimming for hours as it turned dark. Blowing up rafts until we were lightheaded, then spending hours playing shark while someone was in it.
- The quick trips to the lake for a late night swim and doing spectacular diving catches in the water with the football. I was great at spectacular diving catches.
- The days during Christmas we would spend making Christmas cookies for our friends. We would turn on music, and everyone would help. I have frosted thousands of cookies in my life.
- The Friday nights playing board games or Uno. My parents would turn on music, we would pop popcorn using the air popper, and we would laugh and play and sing all night.
- My dad running between fields as he watched my brother and me play in our respective games at the same time. He was always there even when we thought he wasn't. After he would tell us what a great job we did doing whatever proving it was on the edge of the field cheering us on even if we didn't see him.
- Seeing my dad prove to us he could slam dunk a basketball (at 5'8") or making half court shots over and over again. Playing horse was our favorite.
- Spending hours playing t-ball with a plastic bat and ball. My dad versus us. We had ghost runners we kept track of as well as worn lines in the yard to mark the bases - we played that much.
- Spending hours shooting baskets at the Armory as he worked or sometimes just so we could shoot baskets during the winter.
- Fishing together. You can't call anything I did fishing, but I was forced to hold a pole.
- My dad coming to my college softball games driving 8 hours to seem me play in a 2hour game.
- Working in our gigantic garden.
- Taking the dog for walks in the wet land areas - and playing fetch with him until all of our arms were tired.
- Trips to the library with my mom where the check out rule was you could check out only as many books as you could carry home.
- Baking with my mom out of a cookbook she got on a field trip in high school. (She still has it and has instructions to find me a copy.) I laugh now when my 10 yr old wants to bake because we were allowed to cook for ourselves when I stayed home alone at her age. And we had a gas stove.
The rest is just stuff. Stuff comes and go - but memories, memories are what you take with you. They don't get lost in a fire. They don't get lost. They don't get misplaced. And they don't cost money.
Whenever my parents wish openly they could give us more as kids, this is what we remind them.
Because none of it, they have anything to be sorry about.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Day 235 - Zombie
I should never be allowed to number. I repeated 100s when I'm in the 200s....who cares, I guess.....
Anyway, today this zombie arrived on my doorstep:
She is a pretty cool doll really.
This Zombie Mommy was created by none other than the lovely and extremely talented Nitebyrd. She generously said she would donate 100% of her proceeds from her etsy store to Boo until the 25th. I realized that I had not looked to see what she was selling and found this delightful zombie. My daughter DJ has laid claim to her. She thinks she's the coolest thing ever. We all do. The details are quite nice. A bottle marked brains around her neck containing something that looks like it could be brains was a nice touch. I was considering giving her as a gift, but I don't think she'll be allowed to leave the house now that the girls have seen her. Gotta love our family, in love with a zombie doll.
She has other stuff, so check out her store for yourself.
I'm a huge lover of Etsy stores as I love supporting the people who have stores. They are creative and lovely, and I'm glad they have a chance to sell their wares online. Check hers out, will you?
Anyway, today this zombie arrived on my doorstep:
She is a pretty cool doll really.
This Zombie Mommy was created by none other than the lovely and extremely talented Nitebyrd. She generously said she would donate 100% of her proceeds from her etsy store to Boo until the 25th. I realized that I had not looked to see what she was selling and found this delightful zombie. My daughter DJ has laid claim to her. She thinks she's the coolest thing ever. We all do. The details are quite nice. A bottle marked brains around her neck containing something that looks like it could be brains was a nice touch. I was considering giving her as a gift, but I don't think she'll be allowed to leave the house now that the girls have seen her. Gotta love our family, in love with a zombie doll.
She has other stuff, so check out her store for yourself.
I'm a huge lover of Etsy stores as I love supporting the people who have stores. They are creative and lovely, and I'm glad they have a chance to sell their wares online. Check hers out, will you?
A Post Where My Kids Interview Me - Part 2
I started this by asking a simple question: Ask me a question.
DJ: How is your butt today?
Me: Really? How is my BUTT doing today? THAT is your question? My butt is fine, DJ. Thank for caring.
DJ collapsed into laughter.
So, Indigo laid her head on my arm and looked up me sweetly and said:
Indigo: How are you today?
Me: My day was pretty good. We got up too early for a Sunday though. And I wish I could have napped longer. But you and your sister were being really REALLY loud while you were supposed to be reading in your rooms - and staying out of each others rooms. You know we can hear you, right?
Indigo: Okay, I have another question. What time do you go home from work?
Me: At about 4pm usually. Or earlier if I decided it is too boring. Or if it's a good idea for me to leave before I throw something at someone.
DJ: How do you feel about the show Psych?
(I should mention we had just watched the show - and DJ is in love with it now.)
Me: Well, I clearly like it because we Tivo it whenever it is on. Did you find the pineapple? And no, that is not a euphemism for anything. Get your mind out of the gutter.
G: Where are we going for our anniversary this year?
Me: I don't know. Who will watch the girls? I think we have to start with that answer before we can ask that question. But that being said, I guess we should do something to celebrate given it's #15.
DJ: Do you like Bobber Dog?
Me: I love our bobber dog. He's such a good boy. He's the best dog ever.
Upon hearing this, I hear our yellow lab's tail thumping against the floor. Our black lab immediately runs into the room and sits on my feet. Think he's jealous?
Indigio; How long has it been since you got married?
Me: 15 years. It's kinda crazy to think about it really. Doesn't feel that long until I look at DJ and realize she's 10 going into 5th grade. Holy shit! How did we get here again?
DJ: Do you love being called a beer loving monkey?
Me: Where did you get that "beer loving monkey" name anyway? Plus, you are the monkey. Have you been drinking beer again? Is that why you are acting so crazy tonight?
Indigo: I have a great idea. How much do you like beer?
Me: I like beer some days more than other. I really like it on days when you and your sister are fighting like crazy.
DJ: What do you feel about someone being called monkey niblets?
Me: What is a monkey niblet? Would you call someone that because you are angry with them - or because they are someone you like? Or is that just another way to call someone a banana?
Indigo: How long will it take to get to London?
Me: Depends. Are you walking? Flying? Expecting me to take you? If it is that last one, then you'd better start saving your money now. And given how you don't like doing chores to earn allowance, it'll take you about 20 years for you to get to London.
DJ: What is your favorite genre of music?
Me: What kind of music do you like the least?
DJ: Uhm......jazz, I think.
Me: Then jazz is my favorite. I'll start playing it a lot for you.
DJ: Moe, you are weird.
Me: That's why you are weird. Now go to bed.
So to end this weird, yet wholesome post - I will take a right turn. I am signaling.
I saw this today when the place linking it said something about Legos. This is definitely NOT a scene for kids....
compliments of The Daily Shite
Happy Monday!
DJ: How is your butt today?
Me: Really? How is my BUTT doing today? THAT is your question? My butt is fine, DJ. Thank for caring.
DJ collapsed into laughter.
So, Indigo laid her head on my arm and looked up me sweetly and said:
Indigo: How are you today?
Me: My day was pretty good. We got up too early for a Sunday though. And I wish I could have napped longer. But you and your sister were being really REALLY loud while you were supposed to be reading in your rooms - and staying out of each others rooms. You know we can hear you, right?
Indigo: Okay, I have another question. What time do you go home from work?
Me: At about 4pm usually. Or earlier if I decided it is too boring. Or if it's a good idea for me to leave before I throw something at someone.
DJ: How do you feel about the show Psych?
(I should mention we had just watched the show - and DJ is in love with it now.)
Me: Well, I clearly like it because we Tivo it whenever it is on. Did you find the pineapple? And no, that is not a euphemism for anything. Get your mind out of the gutter.
G: Where are we going for our anniversary this year?
Me: I don't know. Who will watch the girls? I think we have to start with that answer before we can ask that question. But that being said, I guess we should do something to celebrate given it's #15.
DJ: Do you like Bobber Dog?
Me: I love our bobber dog. He's such a good boy. He's the best dog ever.
Upon hearing this, I hear our yellow lab's tail thumping against the floor. Our black lab immediately runs into the room and sits on my feet. Think he's jealous?
Indigio; How long has it been since you got married?
Me: 15 years. It's kinda crazy to think about it really. Doesn't feel that long until I look at DJ and realize she's 10 going into 5th grade. Holy shit! How did we get here again?
DJ: Do you love being called a beer loving monkey?
Me: Where did you get that "beer loving monkey" name anyway? Plus, you are the monkey. Have you been drinking beer again? Is that why you are acting so crazy tonight?
Indigo: I have a great idea. How much do you like beer?
Me: I like beer some days more than other. I really like it on days when you and your sister are fighting like crazy.
DJ: What do you feel about someone being called monkey niblets?
Me: What is a monkey niblet? Would you call someone that because you are angry with them - or because they are someone you like? Or is that just another way to call someone a banana?
Indigo: How long will it take to get to London?
Me: Depends. Are you walking? Flying? Expecting me to take you? If it is that last one, then you'd better start saving your money now. And given how you don't like doing chores to earn allowance, it'll take you about 20 years for you to get to London.
DJ: What is your favorite genre of music?
Me: What kind of music do you like the least?
DJ: Uhm......jazz, I think.
Me: Then jazz is my favorite. I'll start playing it a lot for you.
DJ: Moe, you are weird.
Me: That's why you are weird. Now go to bed.
So to end this weird, yet wholesome post - I will take a right turn. I am signaling.
I saw this today when the place linking it said something about Legos. This is definitely NOT a scene for kids....
compliments of The Daily Shite
Happy Monday!
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Day 134 - Early Morning Sunday
My Sunday started at 6am. It would have started earlier, but I thankfully didn't hear his alarm go off at 4:30am.
G's Olympic distance triathlon was this morning - held in downtown Portland. The Portland Freshwater Trust Triathlon is considered one of the greenest races in the country. They hold it in a location where there is little need for people to move around via car. The course continually loops onto it self in a manner making it easy for spectators to walk a few blocks to see the racers. And, like in the water, there was one motor boat. The rest of the support crew were in kayaks, canoes, a dragon boat, and many people on paddle boards. They don't heavily mark the course with ropes and such - relying instead on amazing volunteers to keep it all together. As G said after coming out of the water, it was neat to see a human chute from the water to the transition area. Last year, it was a loud guy yelling and pointing "that way". This year, the volunteer in charge rallied the spectators to form this chute. The racers loved it. The only downside about racing on downtown streets? The streets are bumpy - really bumpy. Last year, the downhill resulted in many people losing their water bottles during the first lap. This year, G lost his. Thankfully it was right in front of us. And since the turn around is the start of the uphill again which meant we could hand bottles back. The volunteers were great with regards to that. They were collecting them - and handing them back as the riders came back around.
In the end, G did pretty good for someone who, in his words, "spent too much time under his bus and not enough time in the water or on the bike or on the road". He finished in a hair over 3 hours. Last year, he did the sprint in 1hr 45 minutes. The swim and run are double the distance with the bike going from 16 to 26 miles.
They had solar and wind power to power some of the electrical stuff at the finish.
After the race, G wanted waffles. We have been having bad luck with waffle makers as of late, so I took him to Wicked Waffles near our house. Imagine in cinnamon waffle with three scrambled eggs in it - folded like a taco. Yeah, that was his post-run recovery breakfast.
After we got home, we took a recovery nap while the rain that had threatened the day finally came down. It wasn't a bad day.
But, I don't want to be G tomorrow. He's sore now - but it'll be MUCH worse tomorrow.
G's Olympic distance triathlon was this morning - held in downtown Portland. The Portland Freshwater Trust Triathlon is considered one of the greenest races in the country. They hold it in a location where there is little need for people to move around via car. The course continually loops onto it self in a manner making it easy for spectators to walk a few blocks to see the racers. And, like in the water, there was one motor boat. The rest of the support crew were in kayaks, canoes, a dragon boat, and many people on paddle boards. They don't heavily mark the course with ropes and such - relying instead on amazing volunteers to keep it all together. As G said after coming out of the water, it was neat to see a human chute from the water to the transition area. Last year, it was a loud guy yelling and pointing "that way". This year, the volunteer in charge rallied the spectators to form this chute. The racers loved it. The only downside about racing on downtown streets? The streets are bumpy - really bumpy. Last year, the downhill resulted in many people losing their water bottles during the first lap. This year, G lost his. Thankfully it was right in front of us. And since the turn around is the start of the uphill again which meant we could hand bottles back. The volunteers were great with regards to that. They were collecting them - and handing them back as the riders came back around.
In the end, G did pretty good for someone who, in his words, "spent too much time under his bus and not enough time in the water or on the bike or on the road". He finished in a hair over 3 hours. Last year, he did the sprint in 1hr 45 minutes. The swim and run are double the distance with the bike going from 16 to 26 miles.
They had solar and wind power to power some of the electrical stuff at the finish.
After the race, G wanted waffles. We have been having bad luck with waffle makers as of late, so I took him to Wicked Waffles near our house. Imagine in cinnamon waffle with three scrambled eggs in it - folded like a taco. Yeah, that was his post-run recovery breakfast.
After we got home, we took a recovery nap while the rain that had threatened the day finally came down. It wasn't a bad day.
But, I don't want to be G tomorrow. He's sore now - but it'll be MUCH worse tomorrow.
I am trying so fucking hard to remember that right now. That I am seeing people and their actions, not as they are intending them, but as I am feeling.
I am not okay. I put on a good show. I know how to divert attention from what is bugging me to what is going on with others. I am a master.
But, I am also a master at seeing through that shit in others. I am a master at saying "cut the crap" and making them tell me the truth. I always know what is really behind the words.
And that's what I expect and hope for with others. It's what I want.
And when I don't get what I want. I assume it is because I'm not worth it. I am not as important to them as they claim.
I know in my head that it is not true.
Now someone tell that to my heart.
'Cause it hurts - and I hurt - and it's not listening right now. It wants proof everything it's feeling isn't true - and it has none.
I just don't want "I'm sorry, but".
I just don't want to accept that timing is just wrong - or life is getting in the way.
I just don't want to accept that I'm strong, so I'll get through it without anyone.
Because, right now, I really don't buy it. I'm in my head - and I know I need to get out of it.
I don't feel I can chase this cloud away by myself.
I am not okay. I put on a good show. I know how to divert attention from what is bugging me to what is going on with others. I am a master.
But, I am also a master at seeing through that shit in others. I am a master at saying "cut the crap" and making them tell me the truth. I always know what is really behind the words.
And that's what I expect and hope for with others. It's what I want.
And when I don't get what I want. I assume it is because I'm not worth it. I am not as important to them as they claim.
I know in my head that it is not true.
Now someone tell that to my heart.
'Cause it hurts - and I hurt - and it's not listening right now. It wants proof everything it's feeling isn't true - and it has none.
I just don't want "I'm sorry, but".
I just don't want to accept that timing is just wrong - or life is getting in the way.
I don't feel I can chase this cloud away by myself.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Day 133 - Dahlias!
Today, we went down to Canby, Oregon to see the dahlias in bloom at the Swan Island Dahlia farm.
For a full view of the pics I took (or a subset of the ones I like), click here.
Here is a preview:
For the full set, check out the gallery.
For a full view of the pics I took (or a subset of the ones I like), click here.
Here is a preview:
For the full set, check out the gallery.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Day 132 - The Shower & Friday Night
Because several people were curious, here are a couple of shots of the new shower floor.
I am also sad to report - it will not likely be in use tomorrow. The shower has a sheet of glass on the side instead of a shower curtain or a usual stall you'd install. We had to get it cut to the right size. Guess who didn't call to install it today as they had committed to doing? Yeah. The glass guy. Unless by some miracle he works on Saturday, I doubt we will have it until Monday now. I'm not amused.
Yet, if I were to not pay them when I say they would, they would be bitch and moaning and threatening action. Interesting how the reverse isn't true.
But I digress.
We had dinner tonight with a college friend who lives in Portland with her family. We haven't seen them in a while, and despite my desire to go home and just relax for the night - we went over to their house. She is a doctor - a very VERY specialized one too (read: very smart and lots more education and training then your average doc). What does one do after working a 10 hour shift? Come home and cook a multicourse meal of course. She is a crazy one.
We drank, we shared stores, we torment our children.
I admired her dahlias....and cursed our dogs for destroying my gorgeous ones I had in the back yard. Maybe next year I'll grow them again. If I do, I'll apologize now. They are my favorite flower given their intense color and symmetry.
DJ and her husband who is an architect discussed the new tallest building. He gave her one of his architectural journals that gives an in depth look at the building, the structure, and the design. She is in heaven now.
Their son and Indigo played and argued all night. It's good for them. They both are very similar in many ways. And in the end, they love each other as was proof when Indigo tried to bring him home with us.
And I played with their dog. I love her. She has six toes because of she is a mountain breed. She is the size of a small, yet furry pony.
I think I have more pictures of her than her owners. She is yawning by the way, but I love her paws.
Then we came home. The dogs were wandering around, and I discovered our yellow lab was carrying one of my thongs in his mouth. I took it away when DJ asked if he had a sock which is his usual toy.
"No, he was trying to figure out how to wear my underwear. He chose a thong because he thought it might be easier to wear with his tail." was my response as I walked to the backdoor to let them outside.
I turn to find DJ literally doubled over, red faced, and unable to breath due to her hysterical laughter.
The dogs came back inside the house, and the yellow lab headed straight for the dirty clothes basket.
"You can't have more underwear," DJ tried telling him.
Our yellow lab had surgery a few years ago and had to wear an old t-shirt to keep him and the other day from mucking with the stitches. It was in the wrong place for a cone. It was when we discovered how funny he acted while wearing clothes. He pranced around like he was proud to be dressed. So, I took a dress of Indigo's out of the laundry and put it on him. The dog's reaction was hilarious. DJ went into convulsions laughing again. In fact, I think she went about 5 minutes without breathing. She is SO my child. (I get the same exact way. Nothing like looking into a mirror.)
It was definitely a great way to end the night. Everyone, in the kitchen, laughing at the dog. Laughing at the kid. Oh, and watching DJ unveil the candles she made earlier that afternoon. (All I have to say is the Daring and Double Daring Book for Girls are awesome. Her first project was making the rope ladder out of there - the ladder that is still in tact and in use in the backyard. Now candles. All stuff girls at her age should be able to do by themselves or with minimal supervision. Then again, I'm far from being a helicopter parent.)
It ended up being a good night.
I am also sad to report - it will not likely be in use tomorrow. The shower has a sheet of glass on the side instead of a shower curtain or a usual stall you'd install. We had to get it cut to the right size. Guess who didn't call to install it today as they had committed to doing? Yeah. The glass guy. Unless by some miracle he works on Saturday, I doubt we will have it until Monday now. I'm not amused.
Yet, if I were to not pay them when I say they would, they would be bitch and moaning and threatening action. Interesting how the reverse isn't true.
But I digress.
We had dinner tonight with a college friend who lives in Portland with her family. We haven't seen them in a while, and despite my desire to go home and just relax for the night - we went over to their house. She is a doctor - a very VERY specialized one too (read: very smart and lots more education and training then your average doc). What does one do after working a 10 hour shift? Come home and cook a multicourse meal of course. She is a crazy one.
We drank, we shared stores, we torment our children.
I admired her dahlias....and cursed our dogs for destroying my gorgeous ones I had in the back yard. Maybe next year I'll grow them again. If I do, I'll apologize now. They are my favorite flower given their intense color and symmetry.
DJ and her husband who is an architect discussed the new tallest building. He gave her one of his architectural journals that gives an in depth look at the building, the structure, and the design. She is in heaven now.
Their son and Indigo played and argued all night. It's good for them. They both are very similar in many ways. And in the end, they love each other as was proof when Indigo tried to bring him home with us.
And I played with their dog. I love her. She has six toes because of she is a mountain breed. She is the size of a small, yet furry pony.
I think I have more pictures of her than her owners. She is yawning by the way, but I love her paws.
Then we came home. The dogs were wandering around, and I discovered our yellow lab was carrying one of my thongs in his mouth. I took it away when DJ asked if he had a sock which is his usual toy.
"No, he was trying to figure out how to wear my underwear. He chose a thong because he thought it might be easier to wear with his tail." was my response as I walked to the backdoor to let them outside.
I turn to find DJ literally doubled over, red faced, and unable to breath due to her hysterical laughter.
The dogs came back inside the house, and the yellow lab headed straight for the dirty clothes basket.
"You can't have more underwear," DJ tried telling him.
Our yellow lab had surgery a few years ago and had to wear an old t-shirt to keep him and the other day from mucking with the stitches. It was in the wrong place for a cone. It was when we discovered how funny he acted while wearing clothes. He pranced around like he was proud to be dressed. So, I took a dress of Indigo's out of the laundry and put it on him. The dog's reaction was hilarious. DJ went into convulsions laughing again. In fact, I think she went about 5 minutes without breathing. She is SO my child. (I get the same exact way. Nothing like looking into a mirror.)
It was definitely a great way to end the night. Everyone, in the kitchen, laughing at the dog. Laughing at the kid. Oh, and watching DJ unveil the candles she made earlier that afternoon. (All I have to say is the Daring and Double Daring Book for Girls are awesome. Her first project was making the rope ladder out of there - the ladder that is still in tact and in use in the backyard. Now candles. All stuff girls at her age should be able to do by themselves or with minimal supervision. Then again, I'm far from being a helicopter parent.)
It ended up being a good night.
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