Anyhow.  Qatar, yes.  A couple of coworkers and I were sent to our campus in Doha to meet with some researchers face-to-face prior to a big proposal deadline.  And I am here to tell you that lo, it was awesome.

First of all, I love air travel.  I don’t really care about the destination as long as it involves taking a plane.  I love everything about it.  Waking up early to get to the airport.  Searching for a magazine at an over-priced newsstand.  Hauling ass through the terminal to make a connection.  I don’t even mind taking off my shoes and pulling out my laptop to get through security.  I just really enjoy the entire experience, especially the actual flight.  There’s nothing quite like knowing you have absolutely nowhere else to be, so you may as well relax and enjoy the ride.  (And the free champagne.)

Now.  That being said, it turns out that around hour ten of an international flight is when I start to get restless and starting thinking things like OH MY GOD this flight will never END and I am going to be ON THIS PLANE for the rest of my LIFE.  Because at that point we still had over five hours to go and well, that can start to feel a little dire.  When you have enough time to watch SEVEN ENTIRE MOVIES on one flight, you know it is a long one.

But we did eventually land, although it was in Dubai and we had to make a connection into Doha from there.  Fortunately that flight was only an hour and we were literally the only people in business class (HELLS YEAH, business class, BTW – I definitely would have died had I been stuck in coach for fifteen hours) so it wasn’t bad at all.

And upon leaving the airport, I immediately decided that I love Doha even more than air travel.  While I do realize that it can get up to a horrifying 120 degrees in the summer, the weather is merely pleasantly warm this time of year.  Everything is clean and shiny new (SO MUCH construction – there are cranes in the background of almost every photo), the people are pleasant and overall it was a phenomenal experience.  Doha is a very international city.  Only about 20% of the residents are native Qatari, everyone else is an expat.  Australia, Britain, the US, you name it and someone of that nationality lives in Doha.  Arabic is the official language but English is very widely spoken so there’s no trouble whatsoever in terms of getting around.  Not even for this central Texas gal.

Okay, enough blathering.  On to the photos!  You can find the full set here, should you be interested in such things.

So to sum up:  Doha = AWESOME.  Air travel = also awesome, though admittedly less so after 15 hours on a single flight.  Whether you’re in business class or not.

Y’all.  Y’ALL.  I had several people tell me how awesome it is, how I would wish I’d done it years ago.  And guess what?  I TOTALLY WISH I’D DONE IT YEARS AGO.  In addition to the cost (which is admittedly substantial), I was mostly worried about silly things, like being required to keep my eyes closed for 4 hours after the procedure (not a problem, thanks to the Xanax AND Valium they gave me beforehand, ZZZ) having to keep up with multiple sets of eye drops, and being able to see well enough to drive myself back home (90 miles) by the next day.  But in the end, none of that was a big deal at all (well, except the money but WORTH IT).

I may sound like a cheesy-ass ad but seriously.  I’ve worn contacts for 25 years, glasses for a couple of years beyond that.  I walked into that operating room unable to see the big E without corrective lenses.  I had high myopia and required about a -7.5 corrective diopter to see, at best, 20/30-ish.  My vision was about 20/400 uncorrected.  That is not good.  Impressive in its crappiness, actually, especially when you consider it’s been that bad since I was about 10 years old.

But now I see 20/15 in both eyes.  Better than “normal” visual acuity of 20/20.  I can’t even begin to tell you how cool it is to open my eyes in the morning and SEE.  EVERYTHING.  I can see in the shower!  I can fall asleep to the TV without worrying about my glasses!  I’ve never known what that was like.

It is AWESOME.

Tiny Little Smartass

I believe I’ve mentioned how Misty/Miss T (am still trying to give these new names a chance, perhaps it would be easier if I wrote more often) is cute but evil.  In yet another example of the child’s disturbing cleverness, yesterday N was playing Wii so that she could watch.  But then she got tired of Super Mario 3.

Misty:  I want to play a different game.  I want to play a different game.

N:  [says nothing; continues to play]

Misty:  I want to play a different game.  I want to play a different game.

N:  [still says nothing; continues playing]

Misty:  I want to play a different game.  I want to play a different game!  I! Want! To! Play! A! Different! Game!

Me: [in the kitchen, unsure as to whether N is purposely ignoring her or is so deep in the zone that he truly doesn't hear, but either way I am slowly being driven crazy whether he is or not]  MISTY.  That is ENOUGH.  We HEAR YOU.

Misty:  But I want to play a different game.  I want to play a different game!  I want to play a different game!

Me:  Say it again.  Say it ONE MORE TIME, and you’ll sit in time out.  [meaningful glare]

Misty:  [sweetly and deliberately]  Daddy, can you please put in another game?

A New Purchase

Though I did love my BMW X5 and for the most part I enjoyed owning and driving it, we decided to let it go and get something a bit more practical.  We’d had the X5 in the shop no less than four times since purchasing it a year ago, and between the constant threat of major mechanical problems and ever-rising gas costs, it began to feel rather like an albatross.

So we took it down to the local Toyota dealership and they offered us a good deal.  Now we’re rocking a 2011 Prius.  It isn’t flashy, it isn’t fast, but it is a smooth, dependable ride and quite frankly the potential gas savings make me a little weak in the knees.

N and I plan to trade off driving it, but I’ve been back behind the wheel of our old faithful 4Runner for a couple days now and honestly, I’m completely fine with that.  I loved that 4Runner from the second I got behind the wheel for a test drive back in October of 2001 and there was a part of me that always felt I’d betrayed it by buying the X5 in the first place.

It might sound silly, but now I think we’ve returned to the natural order of things.  I belong behind the wheel of that old stellar blue pearl (NOT PURPLE) 4Runner, not a snobby, stuffy, tank-like X5.  Turns out I wasn’t much of a BMW gal after all.

Cubicle Farms

I’ve been working in my current cube for 3 years now and while I’m generally not bothered by ambient office noise, the lack of privacy provided by 5.5-foot walls does get irritating.  Particularly when I’m in the midst of a deadline or trying to work on a complex budget.  My cube also happens to be at the end of a row at a rather high-traffic area, so people are walking back and forth all day long.

But a week from tomorrow, all that changes.  Because I’m moving into a new cubicle.  And it has eight-foot walls and a sliding door with frosted privacy glass.  A DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOR.  With a lock even!  I am so excited!

There’s also a ton more desk space, lots of storage and several magnetic dry-erase boards.

Oh, and did I mention the door?  This new cubicle has a door.

(Seriously!  A DOOR!!)

The End

You’ve reached it.

Anyhow, I’ve been surviving as a single parent for the last several days while my husband is off playing local celebrity.  And quite frankly, I am exhausted.  I have a deep, profound respect for people who do this all the time because I am simply wiped out.  Miss T is…high energy, to say the least.  I could turn my back on toddler AE for whole minutes at a time without fear that he’d mortally injure himself or one of the pets.  Not so much with the little one, not to mention her propensity for running away and/or thrashing wildly when she doesn’t want to go somewhere or do something I’ve asked.  Parenting her at this age is very physical, is what I’m saying.  I need a nap.

I don’t really have anything of huge interest to report, just busy as usual. Let’s see…

• I made 100 on my first statistics test (whee!) and if the posted grade distribution is any indication I was one of just a few to destroy the curve.  Sorry, online classmates that I will never meet!  (But not really, because 100, bitches!)

• I have decided that N and I need to take a vacation this summer in celebration of our 10th (!) anniversary, so I’ve been searching for one that meets my very specific qualifications of A) passport required and B) tropical locale.  We’ll see what happens – N’s not really enamored of  the beach (and truth be told, I hate sand too but want to go someplace warm) and I don’t want to spend a ton of money, but we’ve got a bunch of airline miles saved up so that should give us some flexibility.  Plus, N is a master of finding awesome travel deals so I’m hopeful that we’ll find something fun without breaking the bank.

• Miss T is still working on certain aspects of potty training, and I am attempting to bribe her.  If she poops in the potty instead of her pants, she’ll get a sticker.  If she saves up five stickers, I’ll buy her a new My Little Pony.  I have little to no faith that this will actually work, but it certainly can’t make things worse.

• Evidently there was broccoli of questionable decency in the veggie tray I bought for my office Food Day on Friday, and as soon as the tray was opened we all nearly died of the stench.  I took it outside and threw it into the grass almost immediately but it was too late.  In what can only be described as Broccoligate, the smell had already permeated the entire building and had people talking about “that horrible smell” all day long.  I am sorry, coworkers, but this is not my fault.  For once, I actually did NOT buy the “manager’s special” tray with an imminent expiration date.  That broccoli should have been good at least through the weekend, so I refuse to claim responsibility for this.  Of course, that doesn’t matter because now I am the office pariah, known only as “the woman who brought the disgusting broccoli and nearly gassed us all”.  Lucky me.

• AE was picked as “Kid of the Week” for his after-school program, so that means he gets to go have lunch at a local restaurant with some of his counselors on Wednesday.  He’s pretty excited about it, and I’m very proud of him.  When I picked him up on Friday they told me how much they enjoy kids like AE – quiet, respectful and obedient.  Nice to know that at least one of my kids can be described with those words.

• I’m supposed to have jury duty tomorrow, and I am really hoping that when I call tonight the automated courthouse voice tells me that I don’t have to come.   Last time I had it, I was forced to make the 20-minute drive then stand around for over an hour before being dismissed.  Not that either of those things is a huge inconvenience but quite frankly, if I am going to be dismissed anyway then I’d rather save myself the trouble.

• My birthday is in less than 3 weeks, so maybe I should bring my “stuff I want” page up-to-date…you know, in case anyone wants to buy me things.  Particularly shiny ones.

*Not really (and I am pleased to report that I have successfully toasted at least five items in a row without flames), but I once read somewhere that screaming FIRE! is the best way to garner attention.  So there you go.

Sub-subtitled: Anatomy 101, for those who are in need of a refresher course*

Tonight we were doing the usual pre-bath routine – the one where I wait for what seems like an eternity for Miss T to…finish her business.  We’ve found it speeds the process if you engage her in conversation as a distraction, so that’s what I was attempting to do when she floored me with some newly obtained knowledge:

Miss T: Boys don’t go poop.

Me: What?!  Yes they do.

Miss T: No they don’t.

Me: [continuing my fine mothering tradition of asking stupid questions to which I don't really want the answer] What makes you say that boys don’t poop?

Miss T: They don’t have a hole!

Me: …

Miss T: They don’t have a hole so they don’t go poop.

Me: I…wow.  Just…gah.  That’s not right at all.  Where did you hear that?  You’re only three!!  Believe me, boys do go poop.

Miss T: No.

Me: Trust me on this one, kid.  They have a hole.  And they definitely poop.

Miss T: They have a hole?

Me: [wondering when, exactly, it was that my life came to this point] Yes.  Yes, they do.

Miss T: [impressed] Boys poop?

Me: Everyone poops.

Miss T: [awed] Everyone poops?!

Me: Everyone.  Tell your friends.  Wait, maybe not.

Miss T: [utterly amazed] Boys poop.

Me: Can you just get in the bath now please?

*One time I had a coworker ask me – apropos of nothing and in all seriousness – how our bodies “know” to poop out of one hole and pee out of another.  After staring at her in open shock for several seconds, I stammered out a basic lesson on the inner workings of the human body.  She nodded thoughtfully, obviously satisfied with my answer, and walked away as though we’d been casually discussing the weather.  It was quite possibly the most bizarre encounter I’ve had in my entire life.

But that’s boring.  On to more interesting things!

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y NIGHT!

For the first time in a really long time, I had occasion to go see the Aggies play football.  I may live in town, but honestly can’t remember the last time I went to a game.  It may have been my senior year – many, many moons ago.  More moons than I actually care to discuss.  But the opportunity presented itself, so go I did.  My sister and her boyfriend came into town too, and we had a lot of fun.  It helped that the game started at 6 p.m., so it wasn’t 385734098 billion degrees outside, which was really best for all involved.  Being hot and sweaty makes me cranky.

To me, the most awesome part of any Aggie football game is watching the band march.  Because to be honest, I have some sort of brain deficiency that prevents me from understanding how the game is played.  (Also, I do not care, which is probably most of the problem.)  But nothing – absolutely NOTHING – beats our band.  Greatest thing ever, hands down.  Makes those ridiculously expensive tickets worth every penny.

Fine, I see how it is

Today at work we were getting a pretty awesome thunderstorm courtesy of Tropical Storm Hermine, when suddenly my section’s zone proctor (yes) (don’t ask) announced that we were under a tornado warning and it was time to shelter in our designated area.  Since the last time we had a similar situation I got my ass handed to me for moving too slowly (in what is now known around the office as The Great Fire Drill Debacle of 2010) (again, do not ask), you can bet that I was the first one out of my cube and down the hall.

However, I must say:  WTF, Workplace?  Why is the designated shelter area for Zone 4 the only one without four walls and a door, not to mention the only one in FULL VIEW of the floor-to-ceiling windows that make up our building’s exterior walls?  The only conclusion I can reach is that those of us unfortunate souls zoned to this group are considered expendable by upper management.  And here I thought I was a valuable employee.

We’re so proud

I picked AE up from school this afternoon and he greeted me with Very Exciting News!

AE: Guess what?!  I lost another tooth today!

Me: That’s great!

AE: Yeah, it fell out during the tornado warning when I bit David on the butt.

Me: …

AE: [laughing hysterically]

Me: Um.  I’m not sure I really want to know, but why did you bite David on the butt?

AE: Well, we were playing this game where we were pretending to be dogs and-

Me: STOP.  JUST STOP RIGHT THERE.

AE: [laughing hysterically]

Me: So did you tell your teacher what caused you to lose a tooth?

AE: [stops laughing]  No, I figured I better leave that part out.

Me: Good call.

]]> http://www.nonsoccermom.com/2010/09/07/todays-headlines/feed/ 1 http://www.nonsoccermom.com/2010/07/21/the-things-i-do/ http://www.nonsoccermom.com/2010/07/21/the-things-i-do/#comments Thu, 22 Jul 2010 00:37:28 +0000 NonSoccerMom http://www.nonsoccermom.com/?p=2307 Hello from Providence, Rhode Island!  I’ve been here since Monday evening, attending a work conference.  I won’t bore you with the conference details, but I was the single person chosen from my office to attend.  (Because it was my turn.  But still – yay for me!)

I’ve never been to Rhode Island before, and in fact haven’t spent a lot of time in New England at all, so this has actually been a fun experience for me (hours of meetings notwithstanding.  But in all honesty, even the meetings weren’t bad – it’s nice to talk shop with colleagues from other institutions, you know?  ANYWAY).  I hit it off with a woman from Buffalo, and we ended up going out to dinner last night with a group of ladies from the Boston area (one of whom was a transplant from Ireland, so her accent was extra-fun).  It seems that quite a few of the conference attendees are from Boston and the surrounding areas, and I love listening to them talk.  I’m sure they probably feel the same way about me because try as I may, “y’all” keeps flying out of my mouth far more often than it normally would.

I’ve had excellent New England clam chowder, scallops that were among the best I’ve ever had, and a fabulous shrimp pasta.  The seafood options alone make coming here worthwhile, is what I’m saying.

I spent a pleasant (if surprisingly warm) afternoon walking around town taking pictures after the conference ended today.   I had a very nice chat with the poor lonely park ranger at Roger Williams National Memorial, and he gave me the scoop on where to go and what to see.  Providence is pretty small, and I was able to cover a lot of ground in just a few hours.  There are tons of gorgeous Colonial-era buildings, and an impressive amount of hills.  So in addition to a crash lesson in Rhode Island history, I was able to get in my daily workout at the same time.

The one downside of the trip (other than being lonely – I’d be having way more fun if N had been able to come) has been the complete lack of internet access in my hotel room.  N swears, the nicer the hotel, the crappier the internet service.  That seems to hold true here – it’s $9.95/day to get access in the rooms, and it isn’t wireless.  And OF COURSE the cable they provide doesn’t work with my computer.  So if you would like to know where I am sitting to bring this post to you – that would be the hotel lobby, where there IS free wi-fi.  I swear, the sacrifices I make for you people.

Here – since I’m already making sacrifices, enjoy some photos.  They were taken with my iPhone (the only camera I brought), and I had to e-mail each one to myself individually because the phone cable is back in my room.  You are welcome.

I owe you a sincere thanks for not ticketing my dumb ass as it sped merrily through a 45 mph work zone at 60 miles an hour.  While, um, talking on my cell phone.  I deserved that ticket and we both knew it.  Although to be honest, I’m just glad you didn’t clock me five minutes before, when I was flying low at nearly 90.

However, you were kind enough to make me a deal:  if I listened to your brief lecture on the dangers of speeding – especially through construction areas – you’d let me off with a written warning.  This time.

And that, my good sir, is the best deal I’ve been offered in quite a while.

Thanks again, A grateful new law-abiding citizen

*****

Dear Professor Old:

I’m trying to help you.  Really I am.  However, I have to admit that I’m getting a little frustrated.  We’re talking in circles here.

I told you that I’ll take care of getting the letter that you need.  I promise, I will.  That’s part of my job.  And I guarantee that I will get it signed by our authorized organization representative, a person who is also known as an AOR.

But here’s the thing.  You keep tossing around “AOR”, constantly, in every single e-mail that you send, and to quote Inigo Montoya: You keep using that word, and I do not think it means what you think it means.  Yet you continue to emphasize the necessity.  It’s really the priority at this point, you e-mailed me, to get the AOR.

And while I’d love to oblige, something tells me that my boss may object to being gotten.  As I’ve tried to explain, the AOR is a person.  You can get the AOR’s signature.  You can get the AOR a cup of coffee.  However, you cannot get the AOR.

We won’t even discuss the convoluted manner in which you’re approaching your budget preparation, or the fact that I don’t have a clue how to submit your proposal in the first place.  But none of that matters anyway, because as you’ve pointed out repeatedly – the main thing is just to get the AOR.

Best of luck, NonSoccerMom

*****

Dear Cat:

If you don’t shut your face, I’ll be forced to shut it for you.  Just a gentle word of warning.  FTLOG.

Thanks much, Your incredibly disgruntled owner

*****

Dear Miss T:

I love you dearly, you know that, so I just need to throw this out there:

It is really, really embarrassing when I’m carrying you into a public place for you to have your arms wrapped around my neck while loudly yelling, “I want my Mommy!  I want my Mommy!”

Love, YOUR MOTHER

Coworker 1: So I hear you just got back from visiting the kids and that new grandbaby!

Coworker 2: Yes, I did!  I’ve been trying not to gush too much unless people ask…I’m sure it’s annoying.

Coworker 1: How was the trip?  I’m sure you had a wonderful time!

Coworker 2: Oh it was fantastic.  And it looks like they’ll be coming here for Christmas this year, which will be really good because my mother-in-law hasn’t seen them in a really long time.  She didn’t even make it to the wedding, she’s just too old.

Coworker 1: So did you ever put her down?

Coworker 2: [horrified pause]  Put…who…down?

Coworker 1: Your granddaughter!  I would have held her all the time and never wanted to put her down!!

Coworker 2: [immensely relieved]  Oh!  The baby!  Right.

*****

As I was sitting in my cubicle, this took place a few cubes away.

Very young, incredibly softspoken male coworker: [unintelligible]  Mmmmfmssmefffmrrffrrmmp.

Female coworker: Well I don’t think that’s right.  Are you sure?

VYISMC: Mmm! Mmfshrrrpmmmmffff.

Female coworker: That just really doesn’t seem right to me.  Let me check.

VYISMC: [waiting patiently]

Female coworker: Huh, what do you know.  You’re right!

VYISMC: Trmmooo!  Mmmfrrmmfssssshhhp!

Female coworker: Boy, I’m old enough to be your mama.  You should know better than to talk to me that way!

VYISMC: !!!

Female coworker: [laughing hysterically]

Providence, Rhode Island.

Please, try and contain your excitement.  You’re scaring the children.

I’m actually really looking forward to the trip.  I’ve never been to Rhode Island, and while I’m sure it isn’t the most riveting city on Earth (my apologies to its residents, who I am sure are quite lovely), I always like to experience new places.  Plus, three nights in a hotel room BY MYSELF.  I love my family more than life itself but rarely get the chance to do anything alone, you know?

I have to admit to being a little nervous, though – while I’ve done a great deal of traveling, very little of it has been solo.  In fact, I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve even flown by myself:

1.  I flew from Ft. Lauderdale, FL to tiny Panama City Beach one summer in high school to attend youth camp.  Everyone else rode a bus from Texas to Florida but I was already there on a family vacation, so I hopped a puddle-jumper to meet up with the church group.

2.  While we were living in Denver, I went from there to Houston a couple of times while I was pregnant with AE.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaand…that’s it.  Not to mention, there was always someone I knew on the other end of those flights, be it my parents, husband, or a youth group leader.

I’m mildly freaked at the idea of getting to a city where I’ve never been, being greeted by absolutely NO ONE, and then being solely responsible for getting my luggage, finding a cab, telling the driver where to go, and checking myself into the hotel on my company’s dime.  At least it is just a cab.  If I had to rent a car and DRIVE MYSELF SOMEWHERE…well, let’s just say that it’s probable that no one would ever see me again.  My navigational skills are on par with those of a toddler.  Or possibly a rock.

So.  Rhode Island!  Yes.  And although it’s just an hour from Boston, it’s doubtful that I’ll make it out that way (see above re: lack of a car and also Adult Life Skills), but hey.  Fine by me.  If I have time (since I am there to attend a conference, after all), I’ll just wander around and see what I can discover.

I’ll probably also spend a fair amount of time fretting.  Because my flight gets back here at noonish on a Thursday, then I have to repack for the whole family, we have to load up and take the kids to my parents’ place near Austin, and we fly out for San Francisco early the next morning.

San Francisco.

Where I’m running a half-marathon.

Gah.

Weekend in brief

N and I went to Dallas over the weekend for the Big D Marathon.  N ran the half while Val and I did the 5K (my first official, timed race).  The weather was great for running, and even though I’ve been having problems with my left ankle it went really well.  Plus we hadn’t seen Val in quite a while, so it was great to catch up.  My parents had the kids all weekend so it was a win all around.

Glad it wasn’t me

One of my coworkers forgot his wife’s birthday today.  He was telling me about a conversation he had with her this morning, and man – she caught the poor bastard red-handed.

SOL coworker:  So I was giving her a hard time about lunch plans – ‘Just tell me!  Should I pack my lunch or are we going to meet somewhere?  Come on, just decide!’ and she goes ‘Well, I figured we could go out since it’s my birthday…’ and then I was like, D’OH.

Me:  Um yeah, d’oh.  Haven’t you guys been married for like 20 years?  How could you forget her birthday?!

SOL coworker:  I don’t know!  This is never happened to me before!  What do I do?!

Me:  I recommend sending flowers to her office.  Like, now.

SOL coworker:  I think I will.  Oh, this is bad.  This is very very bad.

Me:  FAIL.

SOL coworker:  Epic.

Break time

I’m really glad that I have several trips on the horizon, because work is becoming ridiculous.  I don’t know what the deal is, but the work is UNENDING.  I get one thing off my plate and three more take its place.  Phone calls, bizarre inquiries, last minute proposals and cluelessness abound these days.  Do you know what I would like?  I would like ONE DAMN DAY where I don’t have to rush rush rush from the second I walk in the building until the minute it’s time to go home.  A day where I can drink my coffee before it gets cold, a day where I don’t feel like I have to eat lunch at my desk.  I know these days aren’t just a myth because I used to have them from time to time.  I would like to place an order, please.

File under Things I Never Thought I’d Say:

“You can’t poop when you’re perched on the edge of the toilet!  Get your butt in the hole!”