Millions of shrubs have died because of me.

I just got back from a meeting when the office manager tracked me down and said that she had ordered my new business cards. she got my new title from my boss. this whole exchange lasted 2 seconds, and sent me into a world of fury.

my first instinct was to march into his office and say "i don't need any new business cards." my title is about to change, and while my responsiblities are increasing dramatically, my title is one of those vague kind of titles where you wonder what someone actually does.

i was incensed to the point of hives. little known sj fact: when i am upset about something, i get red blotchy hives on my chest. and today i have a button down shirt open at the neck.

but, at any rate, i didn't march into his office and say anything. I was tempted to say "don't bother, I'm not going to be here that long and I still have plenty from my last title." But I didn't.

I have a good solid collection of business cards. I have had at least four, and this will be my fifth. It seems like an unfair plague upon the environment that I keep going through these title changes. And it's not like I need a card. So, do more shrubs have to die because I have to work more?

It just doesn't seem fair.

Dieting sucks.

It seemed like such a simple task. Dig the plastic bin of summer clothes out of the crawl space, put the clothes into the appropriate drawers and be ready to face the warm weather.
What I hadn’t counted on was having to take off the sweater I was unwittingly hiding under all winter. Slipping into some capris and a T-shirt, I couldn’t help but notice the additions to my waist and hips that made zipping up the pants a bit more difficult than I remembered. While I went merrily on my way this winter, pretty much eating whatever made me happy, my body was rebelling against me by actually retaining those calories! (Stupid body!)
This revelation (you’d think by my age, I would have figured out the correlation between overeating and gain weight!) happened to come around the same time as a phone conversation with my friend, MM. She mentioned that the day we were talking was exactly three months before her wedding. You know, the wedding that I am committed to appearing in… in a form-fitting bridesmaid’s dress, no less. And I PROMISED the bridal shop owner that I would lose those last few pounds by July by playing plenty of soccer (just for the record, I never promised to watch what I ate!)
Needless to say, I’m dieting. Not very well since I have already consumed two pieces of chocolate today (my only excuse is that I’m stressed, but I realize how lame that sounds). But I’m heartened by the fact that the warm weather seems to be settling in and there will be plenty of opportunities to go for walks and run around outside.
I just need to make sure I take advantage of those opportunities. Otherwise, I may be bringing a few uninvited guests on my hips to MM’s wedding.

So maybe syntax errors are only funny to me.

We received an email today from a client, letting us know that they were having a "fundraiser to get a child hit by a car and suffer brain damage."

i showed it to my one work friend, who assured me that the email was only funny to me, because i'm a nerd. a loveable nerd, but nerd nonetheless.

then he proceeded to pound the keyboard laughing at his next joke, where he impersonated me: "Look, chuck, this person misused a semi-colon when they should have used a comma! HAHAHA!"

It was a good laugh for half of the office.

So did you ever have to think long and hard about how much you're worth? I did. It kept me up half of the night. And I'm still thinking about it today. At work, I feel like a cheerleader who can't afford her pom-poms.

Are you management material?

because i can assure you that i am not.

that, folks, is why i haven't been posting. i have been literally paralyzed with work for the few weeks and sooner or later something is going to give. i'm betting that it's going to be my sanity.

last week, a member of my team gave me his letter of resignation. he did it with such trepidation, and prefaced it so much with "i'm so sorry - i know this is really bad timing" like comments that i just took it, said thank you, told him i understood and handed it off to the big bosses. then i walked into the conference room where i had a meeting scheduled with my one "work friend" and proceeded to burst into tears.

he was so stunned, and so uncomfortable that he just kept talking. "are you okay? can i get you anything?" i told him i just needed a minute, and i'd be fine. sure enough, five minutes later, i was no longer crying and had steeled myself to the outside world.

but the truth is, i'm tired. i'm not a good manager. i am the kind of person that will work until i collapse to get something done when i'm under pressure. but not everyone else works that way.

and you can't really expect people to be that way. because a) most people are not like you and b) most people have lives. i don't want to be the kind of manager that forgets about that.

so today i baked a cake for two people leaving (one on my team) and we bought them some little parting gifts. sure it was a bailey's cake and sure i used this opportunity to nip from the bottle in order to restore my daily sanity. but that just makes me closer to an alcoholic than a bad manager, right?

Meet my daughter

This is Molly. Her pastimes include driving her parents crazy, long walks through the neighborhood and nights spent in front of a glowing television curled up with a Greenie. She welcomes all comments, especially those telling her how cute she is! Her eyes are actually dark, rather than the blue they appear to be because of the flash.

gone fishing.

my parents have a pond in their backyard. and to celebrate the opening of fishing season, bailey decided to go fishing. and by fishing i mean "take a flying leap into the pond."

now, he's never swam before. so, imagine my shock when i saw my dog completely submerged in the pond. i wasn't sure if i should go after him? or if i should throw a life preserver? happily, i didn't have to think much about it. it didn't take long before bailey was bobbing at the surface, paddling his way back to me.

i'm not sure what this is going to mean to our future visits to bodies of water. but i'm a little nervous.

in other news, i apologize for not posting, work has been crazy, but it's also giving me a tremendous amount of fodder.

Party like it’s $19.99

I am not a fan of parties. Well, let me clarify. I like the type of parties where I get to enjoy some good food, maybe partake of a few drinks and spend time socializing. I’m NOT a fan of the parties where you get invited to sit through a demonstration, leaf through a catalog and order what is usually overpriced stuff.
I have been to purse parties, candle parties, jewelry parties and kitchen gadget parties (admittedly, I actually liked that last one because I ordered two things that I can’t imagine living without… but let’s not interrupt my ranting with some logic!)
I have very specific taste in jewelry and candles in that both have to be good quality. I wear jewelry on a daily basis and have some pieces that I really love. I did find a couple of pieces I liked at the last jewelry party I attended, but I didn’t have the $100 that was required for the bracelet I liked. And the day I spend $130 on an iron candle stand is the day… well, it’s not going to happen.
And don’t even get me started on purse parties! I’m the type of person who buys one or two purses a year (and they’re only “name brand” if you want to include Nine West as a brand). I also refuse to spend more than $30 on a purse (OK, it’s actually more like $20, but I’m trying not to seem like a complete freak!)
I grudgingly went to a purse party a few years ago thinking I’d be able to find at least one bag I liked. I didn’t understand the concept of such a party so I was REALLY surprised to learn that it was all knock-offs… and even the knock-offs cost at least $60 each!
I guess $60 is a great deal for a purse that looks like a $600 one, but not such a great deal when compared to what I usually spend on a bag. Luckily, SJ was with me and she is also, admittedly, much more hip than me. So she was able to find two nice purses for herself and let me pretend that I was buying one.
The latest craze (and the one that inspired this post) is a “catalog party.” Sounds fun, doesn’t it? It’s actually just someone handing you a catalog and asking you to order stuff. You don’t even get to check out their apartment or eat their food like you would at a regular party!
So, if you’re having a traditional party where I have the chance to meet new people and tell funny stories about my Peekapoo, give me a call. If it’s a party where I have to bring my wallet… I’m busy that day.

Beware of the killer Peekapoo

We had our second obedience class for Molly yesterday and she learned some new commands, such as “take it,” “leave it” and “lie down.” She and the other dog in the class, a Pomeranian named Tasha, did pretty well with the commands and didn’t get too distracted by each other or everything else going on around them.
The trouble came at the end of the class when we let Molly and Tasha off of their leashes so they could play. Molly has only met dogs that are much, much bigger than her so I was curious to see how she’d do with someone her own size. The two of them sniffed, chased each other and went after a ball and all was fine… until Molly grabbed Tasha’s tail in her mouth and began dragging the poor dog around after her. The class came in handy as we tried to command, “Molly, leave it, leave Tasha!” through our laughter.
So our daughter knows how to stick up for herself and wasn’t the one getting dragged around in such a humiliating way. Is it bad that I’m kind of proud of her?

Stuffed to her floppy little ears…

We decided to enroll Molly in a puppy obedience class at a local pet superstore (which shall remain nameless until I decide how I feel about the class and the trainer). Of course, the class if probably just as much for the PH and I as it is for our dog. If nothing else, the threat of a graduation requirement and the fear that our dog will be the first ever to fail puppy class should be enough to make us practice the recommended one hour a day.
Anyway, we ended up having a one-on-one session with the trainer. I say “trainer” but she was more a 20-year-old pet store employee with some questionable training herself. The entire time she was explaining the concept of the class and going over what we would learn, she was taking treats out of a pouch on her belt and feeding Molly treats.
When it came time for her to show us how to train Molly she used– of course– treats as an incentive to get her to obey. By the time the little monster was handed over to us to try the training, she wanted nothing to do with us. I mean, we made her learn things in exchange for a treat while her pal the trainer gave them away for nothing. It was a difficult time getting Molly to even stay near us, let alone teaching her to sit.
Despite all this, it’s been a pretty good week and she is getting good at sitting on command. We have kind of picked which things we’re going to continue to teach her from the class and which things we’re abandoning. The first thing to go is the clicker that makes her flatten her ears and is guaranteed to make me insane if I have to hear it constantly. Number two is the trainer giving her unlimited treats… I will spare you the details, but it was a long night with a lot of number two.

family

sunday usually means family dinner for us, and yesterday was no different. only much to my delight, yesterday's family dinner was with my family, complete with babies and laughter and a dog.

now, it's true that usually spending time with my nephews makes me want to have kids. but. yesterday, with the loud din of baby 1 crying while baby 2 looked on bewildered, and both sets of parents were trying to eat their dinner all the while getting advice from my mom....

"wow. this is more effective than ortho-tricyclen."

and can i just say that getting the baby dressed is like trying to put feetsy pajamas on a cup of coffee? only without the cup?