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!”

I am so, so very sick of being exhaustingly busy at work.  Okay, so I know they pay me to DO MY JOB, and that’s fine because in theory I LIKE my job.  However.  That being said, I used to have occasional downtime.  Time where I could catch up on filing, or updating electronic forms, or other such minutiae.  I even used to write a monthly newsletter for my department.  These days, NO.  NEVER EVER AGAIN.

Take today, for instance.  I have been drowning all week, plus all of last week, and also the week before that.  I had this huge proposal that kept getting pushed down the schedule, because the involved faculty couldn’t get their shit together.  Trying to coordinate a bunch of federally-required bureaucratic information for nine university professors is an awful lot like herding cats.  ANYWAY.  Today I finally had that proposal under control, I got a whole bunch of other stuff out of the way this morning, and I was feeling pretty good.  I walked away from my desk for a moment to turn in another proposal that’s been hanging over my head, and once that was done I felt SO relieved.  FINALLY, a chance to come up for air.  I went back to my desk, only to be greeted by a ringing phone.  When I picked up the phone, it was yet another scatter-brained faculty member logging in a new last-minute proposal – due by the end of the week.  And, I lost it.  I slammed down the phone, fell into my chair and started to cry.  Poor BB heard me from her cube and rushed over to try and calm me down, but it was not to be.  And as luck would have it, right then my boss walked by.  The good news is, she gave that proposal to someone else who is currently less busy (and stressed), the bad news is that I am once again The Girl Who Lost Her Shit At Work.  FAIL.

IT’S A GODDAMN ORANGE, THAT’S WHAT.

Miss T has entered a phase.  It’s a phase I remember from AE’s toddlerhood.  It’s not a phase I missed.  It’s a close cousin of “But why?”, a little something we call “What’s dat?”  From the moment the child wakes up in the morning, she’s pointing at everything under the sun and demanding to know what it’s called.  I realize she’s trying to develop her language skills, and I’m all in favor of this, but she even does it when she knows full well what “dat” is.  And I’m here to tell you, it is all kinds of annoying.

Miss T: What’s dat?

Me: It’s your shirt.

Miss T: What’s dat?

Me: It’s Mommy’s shirt.

Miss T: What’s dat?

Me: Your shoes.

Miss T: What’s dat?

Me: My shoes.

You get the idea.  Tonight she had some mandarin oranges with dinner.

Miss T: What’s dat?

Me: An orange.

Miss T: What’s dat?

Me: It’s an orange.

Miss T: What’s dat?

Me: Still an orange.

Miss T: Orange?

Me: Yes!  Orange.

Miss T: What’s dat?

Bloodbath

I re-dyed my hair on Sunday night, using a slightly different shade than what I’d been using since August.  The original shade was Chocolate Cherry.  The new shade is Burgundy Blowout.  As far as I can tell, the main difference was a little tube of “color boost” that I had to add to the mix this time.  And it looked exactly like blood.

Once time was up I got in the shower to rinse and HOLYYYY CRAP.  I now know what to expect if I ever murder someone and try to wash away the evidence.

Speaking of murder, I thought N was going to murder me when he realized I got some of the color boost on the front of our white cabinetry.  Oops.  Time for a trip to the hardware store to pick up some Kilz.  That shit STAINS.

Interestingly, my hair color is not drastically different from the last shade.  A little redder, yes, but a lot of people haven’t even noticed.  I guess now they’re so used to red-headed me that a different shade of red isn’t all that noticeable.  Either that or they hate it and are too nice to do the head-tilt “Oh!  You dyed your hair again!”  Hmm.

At least now we can afford white cabinet paint

We finally got the bill from George the plumber, and it was a mere $84 dollars.  I mean, it’s not like I WANT to spend $84 on plumbing services, but considering my propensity for breaking the handles off of sinks, it’s good to know that it won’t break the bank the next time we require George’s services.  And I’m sure that we will.

Anyway, I was clearing out some very old unpublished posts I discovered and decided to go ahead and combine some of it for one big festival of random pointless specialness.  You are welcome.

*****

Due to a series of unfortunate circumstances, I have a new keyboard on my computer at work.  And while at first I was excited – because my old keyboard had half a spacebar and a backspace key where the other half should be, which is both stupid and wrong – this new stealth keyboard is no good either. The clackiness ratio is all off!  I enjoy a nice clickety keyboard.  I like to type fast, and hard, and GET MY ANGER OUT WITH EXCESSIVE USE OF CAPS LOCK AND FORCE.  AND EXCLAMATION POINTS!!  Now, no matter how angrily or quickly I type, nada.  No satisfying clacking whatsoever, and the keys don’t feel right.  Gooshy instead of clicky!  As BB said (or rather, instant messaged from HER nice clickety keyboard) it isn’t helping the already library-like work environment of our cube farm.  She followed that observation loud and clear with BUT NOT ME, HEAR ME TYPE BIOTCHES!!  Hee!

Of course, I’m inclined to think that maybe the new keyboards are stealthy on purpose.  Because you know, loud typing can apparently be distracting to those around you.  Or so I’m told, because quite frankly I am not bothered by (or even aware of) that sort of ambient noise.  In fact, I find dead silence far more distracting.  I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again:  IF YOU ARE DISTRACTED BY TYPING, PERHAPS THE PROBLEM IS NOT YOUR CUBE NEIGHBOR.  MAYBE IT IS YOU.  LEARN TO COPE.

Hopelessly pointless update:  My keyboard is not quite as stealth as when I first got it.  Undoubtedly due to my vigorous typing and angry banging.

*****

We’re out of coffee stirrers in the break room.  Not a big deal, I suppose, although now we have the Community Stirring Fork.  Which is just funny, and probably not all that sanitary.

Hopelessly pointless update:  They ordered more coffee stirrers.

*****

Do you ever have one of those mornings where you know the day is going to drag on forever?  I knew that was going to be the case within five minutes of logging into my computer this morning.  If I only get 3 e-mails over the weekend, that means Monday is going to drag on forever.  (But I have enough work to do, Universe!  NOT COMPLAINING NOT COMPLAINING.  Merely stating FACT.)

I wasn’t the only person that thought today was long.  I had the following e-mail exchange with my husband starting at 2:30 this afternoon:

Me: OMG, how is it only 2:30? HOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW?

N: In media where the velocities are nowhere near the speed of light, time progresses in a linear and relatively consistent fashion. If you’d like to reach the end of the workday faster, you need to speed up (a lot).
(Yeah, it’s dragging for me too.)

Me: So what you’re saying is, in order for it to be 4:30 I need to learn to move at the speed of light. Well, that should be do-able. I have plenty of things I could and probably should be doing, yet I do not want to do them at all. POOP I say. What is our plan for tonight? It doesn’t look like my Netflix movie will be here, sadly.

N: I don’t know. No plan. Dinner at some point. Sleep would be nice.

Me: What’s it like, being such a goddamn smart-ass all the time? Is it awesome?

N: Yep.

Folks, that’s my husband.  He should count himself as lucky that I haven’t strangled him yet.

Hopelessly pointless update:  My husband is still a world class smart-ass.  Hey!  That rhymed.

*****

Irony:  When the sardine-eating coworker takes offense to other, normal lunch smells.

Hopelessly pointless update:  Sardines = still gross.

Once the downward spiral had started, not even coffee could save me.  Believe me, I tried.  But the same person** that manages to make my life frustrating all on his lonesome was coming at me from all directions, most of them indirectly.  Like, HE wasn’t even the one e-mailing me to say HEY!  I’m a pain in your ass!  Other people were e-mailing me to say HEY!  This guy?!  I’m going to make it so that he’s a pain in your ass!  I believe at one point I sent an IM to BB that just said KILL KILL KILL.  Followed by one to Clark W. Griswold that extolled the many virtues of vodka shots and their value in the workplace.

Anyhow, I will say that there is one thing that managed to pull me back from the brink.  And that thing is Chick-fil-A.  Oh, combo meal #1 with Polynesian sauce and mayo, how I love you.  I’m sure that everyone within a mile radius loves you too since I can’t yell with my mouth full.  And I know there hasn’t been cocaine in Coca-Cola for like a hundred years but I think my Coke Zero may have been laced with something today because after a few sips I was high as a kite and happy as a clam.

I’m not sure that I have a point here except to say Hello!  I haven’t posted in a while, and also, Happy Monday!

*Clark W. Griswold tells me that “stabby” is not a valid emotion.  To that I say, why don’t you wait until I violently attack you with my pen and then decide if that’s how I was feeling.

**I like my job, yo.  That’s all you get in terms of details.

I have asked about it before, but until now no one has acted like it is an issue.  It doesn’t seem to impair his speech or anything like that.  I had the procedure done myself when I was a little younger than AE, and I still remember it hurting like a bitch some 25 years later.  It’s not anything I want to put him through unless it is absolutely necessary, so I think I’m going to insist on getting a second opinion.  (Something I haven’t yet discussed with my husband.  Hi, honey, I want a second opinion!)

*****

When AE and I were at the dentist yesterday, the hygienist was unbelievably brutal during my cleaning.  I have never minded going to the dentist, but now I can totally see why some people dread it.  There was blood!  Lots of blood!  And my gums are still incredibly sore over 24 hours later.  I think I may politely decline Mallory’s services next time and ask for someone else. 

*****

Someone put a half-full pot of coffee in the fridge at work one day last week, and it stayed there for several days until my boss finally got tired of looking at it.  I can come up with no reasonable explanation for leaving a pot of coffee in the fridge for an extended period of time.  It certainly isn’t something that tastes better with age.

*****

I cut my finger on a gum wrapper Monday afternoon.  It bled.  My coworkers were shocked that I managed this, but N was not.  He knows that the woman he married is capable of cutting herself on a shampoo bottle.

*****

The daycare keeps ignoring my plea to try and keep Miss T from taking an afternoon nap.  It’s not that really mind her having a nap, of course, so much that they often let her sleep until almost 4 p.m.  And consequently she doesn’t want to go to bed.  The first day I asked they did keep her awake, but then the next day they were all “She was so tired! But we limited it to thirty minutes!” and by day three they had stopped completely and were back to 1.5 hour naps ridiculously late in the day.  Something has got to give, people.  Work with me here.

1)  There are several different climates within our relatively small one-story building.  You can walk from one end of the building to another and notice at least three different extreme temperature changes along the way.  There are hot spots and cold spots and places that are mysteriously more humid than others.  It isn’t uncommon to see people wearing cardigans or other lightweight sweaters.  However, there is one woman that wears a heavy pea coat.  Every single day, all day long, no matter where she is in the building.  It can be 80 degrees inside and still, the pea coat.  A hundred degrees outside – pea coat.  Standing in direct sunlight in the hottest wing of the building – pea coat.  I don’t get it.  Even standing directly underneath an air-conditioning vent, it is never frigid enough in any building to necessitate a heavy winter coat.  As a cold-natured person myself, I feel that I can say this with some measure of authority.

2)  I maintain that it is rude to ignore someone who is speaking to you directly.  If I say “hello” or “good morning”, and you know that I’m speaking to you – beyond a shadow of a doubt, there is no chance that I was speaking to anyone else – perhaps a response is in order, yes?  You don’t even have to say anything, if that’s your preference.  A nod of acknowledgement will do.  Just so I know that I didn’t somehow become invisible.  Is this too much to ask?  I mean, it’s not like I want to become best buddies.  I am not trying to engage you in conversation.  I don’t even want to talk to you.  But I am a princessy spoiled brat and WILL NOT BE IGNORED.  Don’t think I didn’t notice that you came over and polled my cube neighbors to get some information but completely ignored me even though I was sitting right there.  Oh, I noticed.  Now it is a challenge.  You refuse eye contact, I say hello anyway, and around and around we go.  Sooner or later you will break.  Patience may not be my virtue, but I am hella stubborn.  You can ask my husband about that too.

3)  Am I gross?  Wait, before you answer that, let me explain.  As a general rule, I tend to NOT use the paper toilet seat covers in public restrooms unless the seat is visibly dirty.  Therefore, I don’t use them at work.  I mean, it’s a newish building, the restrooms get cleaned every night, and I work with a generally non-disgusting group of people.  I wipe the seat down with a piece of toilet paper before I sit (mostly because the toilets in our restroom spray upwards when flushed so the seats are always wet) and then I’m good to go.  However, the telltale sounds of paper rustling tell me that most of my female coworkers DO use them.  So I’m just wondering if I am in the (dirty, dirty) minority here.

4)  I was trying to make copies one day last week, and the form I needed has to be on green paper.  So I grabbed a handful of green paper and put it in the copier drawer.  But I forgot to tell the copier to print from that drawer so my copies started coming out on white paper.  So I cancelled the job and programmed the copies to come from the drawer, but then I forgot to scan the original again so all of my green copies started coming out blank.  I cancelled THAT print job and started over, and then the paper jammed midway through my set of 25 copies.  So I grabbed the copies that had actually printed, took the extra green paper out of the drawer and gave up.  A few minutes later we got a message from a staff assistant saying that the copier was down.  Apparently - according to one of my coworkers - they “found a green piece of paper stuck in the widget.”  Oops.