Actually, that stands for Bridal Shower! My maid of honor, Angela, put together a fabulous bridal shower Saturday at the Rose Tree Garden flower & tea shop.
We'd gone there for tea months ago and Angela reserved their outdoor patio for a June 10 bridal shower tea. All we had to do was pick out the teas, the tea sandwiches and the scone flavors and show up. All parties should be this easy!
In attendance: family (my mom, cousin Marian, cousin Judy and her daughter, Bridget, and my aunt's sister, Nora); friends from Mormon circles (women from the ward I grew up in, my current ward and from my days in the singles ward); one friend/confidant from work (who had the good sense to transfer out of my dysfunctional section); longtime women friends I've met through mutual friends, Mormon studies connections or both; a friend from the 2-year counseling certification class I took; one friend who's not Mormon, but I met her when she visited my ward (her husband is also responsible for my second tattoo); and one friend I've known since high school (who's hit it off so well with some of my rogue Mormon friends that they want to adopt her when I leave).
I don't know that I've had this many women I love in one place at one time. In fact, I'm getting a little teary typing this as I think about all the wonderful, strong, intelligent, creative, supportive, resilient and hilariously funny women I have in my life. And that wasn't even ALL of them! I am, in a word, blessed to have them in my circle--and to have so many circles come together and overlap. I'm glad I'll be seeing so many of them again at the wedding, plus I'm marrying into a whole CLAN of them when I join the Stevens family. They rock!
Oh my lord, did they SPOIL me! Their generous group gift: an 8-hour day of treatments at Amadeus Spa and gift certificates to spend at Lush and Origins--two of my favorite places for deliciously-scented bath and body products. My profound thanks for making me feel so pampered and loved! I'll be so relaxed, I may forget my own name...
I'll post the link to some of the pictures Wendy took. Hope it works. If not, I'll post individual shots later.
http://www.kodakgallery.com/I.jsp?c=pi9fe2z.6tk0o1br&x=0&y=9gjb5n
Monday, June 12, 2006
Friday, June 09, 2006
Deja Vu
I stop by my supervisor's office to advocate refresher training for all the contract administrators on submitting a file to Closeout. I've been logging incoming files and it seems almost every one has an issue--something not done or not done right/completely.
Since I run into snags every time, I suspect the larger problem is that the administrators either don't know what to do or do this task so infrequently that they forget how in between. (Still others hoard their files, but that's another story).
I bring this up with my supervisor--problem A keeps happening. Refresher training would help alleviate problem A--or at least make our expectations clear. This problem creates inefficiencies--it's a waste of time to deal with these issues and oversights on a case-by-case basis.
Supervisor says additional training IS coming, but we don't know when; we have people out on leave and can't schedule it, everyone's strapped for time, etc.
(Wouldn't it make sense to deal with problem A in the meantime? Or do we just forgive everyone for not doing their work correctly?)
Then she says "I need examples of problem A." I already gave her 2 examples in my opening pitch. So I remind her and give her a couple more. This apparently is insufficient, so I remind her of a big hairy problem we had with a file because a series of administrators didn't transfer the property correctly.
Supervisors says "Oh, well, that was just the ONE time."
(Why do I feel like I'm fighting with my mother? You do X. Give me an example of me doing X. You did X [cite last 3 instances.] Are you dragging that up again?)
I said I don't have a list of ALL the problems from the past year, but I HAVE encountered problems of A's type EVERY TIME I log incoming files. Each "one time" adds up over time.
I made a good case and I'm willing to pony up a solution by writing a procedure guide. Supervisor said she'd be willing to review it and discuss the matter with the other supervisors. In other words, I can do the extra work, but no promises that anyone else is interested in SOLVING the problem.
Since I run into snags every time, I suspect the larger problem is that the administrators either don't know what to do or do this task so infrequently that they forget how in between. (Still others hoard their files, but that's another story).
I bring this up with my supervisor--problem A keeps happening. Refresher training would help alleviate problem A--or at least make our expectations clear. This problem creates inefficiencies--it's a waste of time to deal with these issues and oversights on a case-by-case basis.
Supervisor says additional training IS coming, but we don't know when; we have people out on leave and can't schedule it, everyone's strapped for time, etc.
(Wouldn't it make sense to deal with problem A in the meantime? Or do we just forgive everyone for not doing their work correctly?)
Then she says "I need examples of problem A." I already gave her 2 examples in my opening pitch. So I remind her and give her a couple more. This apparently is insufficient, so I remind her of a big hairy problem we had with a file because a series of administrators didn't transfer the property correctly.
Supervisors says "Oh, well, that was just the ONE time."
(Why do I feel like I'm fighting with my mother? You do X. Give me an example of me doing X. You did X [cite last 3 instances.] Are you dragging that up again?)
I said I don't have a list of ALL the problems from the past year, but I HAVE encountered problems of A's type EVERY TIME I log incoming files. Each "one time" adds up over time.
I made a good case and I'm willing to pony up a solution by writing a procedure guide. Supervisor said she'd be willing to review it and discuss the matter with the other supervisors. In other words, I can do the extra work, but no promises that anyone else is interested in SOLVING the problem.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
Name That Tune
I'm terrible at connecting a composer and title with a piece of classical music. Normally, this doesn't impact my life. However it is making it difficult to pick out music for the wedding ceremony.
I got a demo CD from a string quartet wanting my business, but the wedding songs were only 45 seconds long. Long enough for me to think, "Yeah, that sounds familiar" and then promptly forget what I heard. Pachabel? Jesu, Joy of what was that again...?
I called a violist who plays with the local Philharmonic and used to live in my ward. She says she has the same problem--even with music she's just performed. I'm guessing that's something she doesn't talk about at work? (Kind of like my former supervisor who confessed he believed the moon landing was staged).
This reminds me of David Lodge books I read in college, recounting the adventures of professors of English who keep crossing each other's paths. Very fun read for lit majors. In one of the books, the characters play a game called Humiliation, wherein they confess which seminal literary works in their area of specialty they have NOT read.
In spite of years of violin and piano lessons, being sacrament meeting chorister and singing in at least 4 choirs, I confess I don't know how to read music. Which may account for some of my congenital inability to connect composers (other than Andrew Lloyd Webber) with their work.
So...anyone with greater musical gifts want to help me pick some weddin' music?
I got a demo CD from a string quartet wanting my business, but the wedding songs were only 45 seconds long. Long enough for me to think, "Yeah, that sounds familiar" and then promptly forget what I heard. Pachabel? Jesu, Joy of what was that again...?
I called a violist who plays with the local Philharmonic and used to live in my ward. She says she has the same problem--even with music she's just performed. I'm guessing that's something she doesn't talk about at work? (Kind of like my former supervisor who confessed he believed the moon landing was staged).
This reminds me of David Lodge books I read in college, recounting the adventures of professors of English who keep crossing each other's paths. Very fun read for lit majors. In one of the books, the characters play a game called Humiliation, wherein they confess which seminal literary works in their area of specialty they have NOT read.
In spite of years of violin and piano lessons, being sacrament meeting chorister and singing in at least 4 choirs, I confess I don't know how to read music. Which may account for some of my congenital inability to connect composers (other than Andrew Lloyd Webber) with their work.
So...anyone with greater musical gifts want to help me pick some weddin' music?
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Happy Returns
I work in contract closeout, which means I cold call task managers asking for final reports/deliverable documentation--often many years after work has finished on the project. They aren't always happy to hear from me.
Some TMs stonewall--they promise to send me final reports and never do. Others are extraordinarily helpful and happy to bring the matter to an official close.
I lucked into one of the latter this week. I left a voicemail yesterday asking Albert for help finding a final report. According to the file, several other administrators before me had tried (and failed) to get documentation.
When I came in this morning, I had 8 emails from Albert. In the first, he said the work was completed, gave me the contact information for the sponsor representative he'd worked with and wanted to know what he could do to help me do my job. He also forwarded me 7 emails--correspondence between him and the sponsor regarding the project.
He had me at, "I remember this task."
I replied via email, thanking him for the additional information and said I would contact the sponsor for confirmation. A few minutes after I sent my reply, Albert called me. He said he prefers to interact live rather than through electrons. He also apologized for not being very nice to the last contract administrator who contacted him! [Drops jaw in awe]. I told my officemates and my manager about that part!
It doesn't always go this well, but what a treat when it does! I AM going to miss this part of my job.
Some TMs stonewall--they promise to send me final reports and never do. Others are extraordinarily helpful and happy to bring the matter to an official close.
I lucked into one of the latter this week. I left a voicemail yesterday asking Albert for help finding a final report. According to the file, several other administrators before me had tried (and failed) to get documentation.
When I came in this morning, I had 8 emails from Albert. In the first, he said the work was completed, gave me the contact information for the sponsor representative he'd worked with and wanted to know what he could do to help me do my job. He also forwarded me 7 emails--correspondence between him and the sponsor regarding the project.
He had me at, "I remember this task."
I replied via email, thanking him for the additional information and said I would contact the sponsor for confirmation. A few minutes after I sent my reply, Albert called me. He said he prefers to interact live rather than through electrons. He also apologized for not being very nice to the last contract administrator who contacted him! [Drops jaw in awe]. I told my officemates and my manager about that part!
It doesn't always go this well, but what a treat when it does! I AM going to miss this part of my job.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Sounds Inviting
I put the first batch of invitations in the mail Friday; still collecting a few straggling addresses for the second batch which I hope to send out this week.
My friend Jana (graphic designer extraordinaire) directed me to the Stylart website to look at their selection of wedding invitations. When I dropped by the local Party City to check out their offerings in person, I fell in love with the flower-embossed invite Jana pointed out.
In comparison, the invite Mike and I had both agreed on (a garden-y one with leaves & flowers printed on it) didn't seem quite as appealing. I showed both to Mike, debated whether the extra postage for the embossed ones was worth it (yes) and placed the order.
I wanted to find a post office willing to hand cancel the postage. The first two I called acted like I was on crack for even asking--something I'd been warned about on the craigslist wedding forum.
Francine at the main Post Office in Pasadena said they'd be able to hand cancel them. When I got to the desk clerk, he weighed an invitation and said they would not require extra postage. I looked at him like HE was on crack: large square envelopes typically DO require extra postage. There was NO WAY I was going to slap on regular 39 cent stamps.
I kept protesting that square envelopes cost more to mail. We stood there giving each other the stinkeye until Francine appeared (bless her!) and told the clerk yes, there is a surcharge for square envelopes and yes, it was OK to hand cancel them at his station between customers.
With that, he shrugged and said OK, sold me 120 wedding stamps, and closed his window while I applied stamps to the invitations. He had not returned by the time I was done, so I wrote "Please hand cancel" on the box containing the invitations, thanked him and Francine for their help and left the box on the counter hoping they would take care of it.
The next day, many people I saw at Rowan's birthday party had already received theirs and said how pretty they were. :)
My friend Jana (graphic designer extraordinaire) directed me to the Stylart website to look at their selection of wedding invitations. When I dropped by the local Party City to check out their offerings in person, I fell in love with the flower-embossed invite Jana pointed out.
In comparison, the invite Mike and I had both agreed on (a garden-y one with leaves & flowers printed on it) didn't seem quite as appealing. I showed both to Mike, debated whether the extra postage for the embossed ones was worth it (yes) and placed the order.
I wanted to find a post office willing to hand cancel the postage. The first two I called acted like I was on crack for even asking--something I'd been warned about on the craigslist wedding forum.
Francine at the main Post Office in Pasadena said they'd be able to hand cancel them. When I got to the desk clerk, he weighed an invitation and said they would not require extra postage. I looked at him like HE was on crack: large square envelopes typically DO require extra postage. There was NO WAY I was going to slap on regular 39 cent stamps.
I kept protesting that square envelopes cost more to mail. We stood there giving each other the stinkeye until Francine appeared (bless her!) and told the clerk yes, there is a surcharge for square envelopes and yes, it was OK to hand cancel them at his station between customers.
With that, he shrugged and said OK, sold me 120 wedding stamps, and closed his window while I applied stamps to the invitations. He had not returned by the time I was done, so I wrote "Please hand cancel" on the box containing the invitations, thanked him and Francine for their help and left the box on the counter hoping they would take care of it.
The next day, many people I saw at Rowan's birthday party had already received theirs and said how pretty they were. :)
Monday, June 05, 2006
Cat Out of Bag
Mom and dad came home from Utah for Rowan's 90th birthday bash. Halfway through the party, I happened upon mom as she was talking to the stake president's wife; they used to work together at the school district on the Vital Volunteer program.
Seeing the SP's wife and the stake president himself reminded mom of the Officiant Question. She pulled me aside and said" Have you asked the SP to do the ceremony?" Ah, the Moment of Truth.
I said we'd asked a Mormon friend of mine to officiate--one who also, we discovered, has a long history with Mike's family. Through her sunglasses, mom didn't exactly look pleased. At least the reveal happened in public--no scenes. I said we were very happy to have Mark doing the ceremony and he's tickled to be doing it.
Mom asked whether Mark would be dignified about doing the ceremony. I reassured her that he would be.
I wonder if she was worried about the ceremony turning out like my friends Marilyn & Chester's wedding. The bride and groom both wore ape costumes and red Converse high tops, the minister was dressed as a ringmaster, and the guests came in costume. I wore a stunning handmade orange vinyl carrot costume with green pipe cleaner fronds. It was one of the funnest weddings I've been to.
No, mom. Rest assured no one will be dressed as a giant carrot at MY wedding. (Sigh.)
Seeing the SP's wife and the stake president himself reminded mom of the Officiant Question. She pulled me aside and said" Have you asked the SP to do the ceremony?" Ah, the Moment of Truth.
I said we'd asked a Mormon friend of mine to officiate--one who also, we discovered, has a long history with Mike's family. Through her sunglasses, mom didn't exactly look pleased. At least the reveal happened in public--no scenes. I said we were very happy to have Mark doing the ceremony and he's tickled to be doing it.
Mom asked whether Mark would be dignified about doing the ceremony. I reassured her that he would be.
I wonder if she was worried about the ceremony turning out like my friends Marilyn & Chester's wedding. The bride and groom both wore ape costumes and red Converse high tops, the minister was dressed as a ringmaster, and the guests came in costume. I wore a stunning handmade orange vinyl carrot costume with green pipe cleaner fronds. It was one of the funnest weddings I've been to.
No, mom. Rest assured no one will be dressed as a giant carrot at MY wedding. (Sigh.)
Party Preview
Cousin Marian threw a huge bash Saturday to celebrate her husband Rowan's 90th birthday. They invited relatives, friends, professional colleagues, the whole ward--even the girl at the local McDonald's who sells Rowan his daily Egg McMuffin.
Marian had family members come early for pictures and introductions. A woman in our ward has been helping Marian track down Rowan's long-lost family members and several were in attendance, including Rowan's son and niece and some distant cousins. It was lovely to meet them.
It was a great party, complete with killer Mexican food from El Cholo (still salivating over it), Southwest decorations, a bouncy house for the kids and a roving Mariachi band.
Mom heard from Marian that a bunch of kids had walked/bounced on the pool cover during the party--foul! An adult woman had also tried to walk across it and got wet when it sank under her weight. I can understand little kids not knowing better than to walk on the pool cover, but an adult?! WTF?
Marian & Rowan's party was a great dry run for the wedding, which will also take place in their yard. I got to see where to stage the ceremony and the reception tables and food set-up (we won't have food on the upstairs patio with poor ingress/egress, for example). Plus I got to see where the sun hits the yard at various times of day so we aren't fire-roasting the wedding guests.
I'm hoping against hope it won't be as blazingly hot on July 22 as it was Saturday. The yard has plenty of shade, thankfully, but if it's over 100 degrees, we could quite possibly drown in our own sweat regardless.
Marian had family members come early for pictures and introductions. A woman in our ward has been helping Marian track down Rowan's long-lost family members and several were in attendance, including Rowan's son and niece and some distant cousins. It was lovely to meet them.
It was a great party, complete with killer Mexican food from El Cholo (still salivating over it), Southwest decorations, a bouncy house for the kids and a roving Mariachi band.
Mom heard from Marian that a bunch of kids had walked/bounced on the pool cover during the party--foul! An adult woman had also tried to walk across it and got wet when it sank under her weight. I can understand little kids not knowing better than to walk on the pool cover, but an adult?! WTF?
Marian & Rowan's party was a great dry run for the wedding, which will also take place in their yard. I got to see where to stage the ceremony and the reception tables and food set-up (we won't have food on the upstairs patio with poor ingress/egress, for example). Plus I got to see where the sun hits the yard at various times of day so we aren't fire-roasting the wedding guests.
I'm hoping against hope it won't be as blazingly hot on July 22 as it was Saturday. The yard has plenty of shade, thankfully, but if it's over 100 degrees, we could quite possibly drown in our own sweat regardless.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Rave: My spicy friends
I am hugely blessed in the friends department. This has always been true, but I guess I'm more appreciative now that I'm on the verge of moving away from LA and away from regular, bread-breaking, in-person, live interactions.
Friends Lorie and Tom offered to host an engagement party for me and Mike while he was in town over Memorial weekend. We picked up 10 pounds of carne asada and headed over to their place for a Sunday evening BBQ. Other friends brought tasty salads, sides, fabulous desserts, adorable offspring and their fun selves to the party.
It was fun to catch up with everyone and update them on the wedding plans. Plus there's something intimate about coming together to share a meal. It's routine, yet it can be such a delectable experience. Anyone who's been on a bad/blind date knows the value of good company--or barring that, good food.
My friend, Wendy, whom I've known since high school (maybe junior high--it's nebulous) joined in the engagement BBQ fun. She gave me a colorful box, which I opened later when I rediscovered it in my purse. In it: a tiny jar of saffron.
In explanation, she said: "What's funny about saffron is you use it few and far between, but it's always precious and just as great as when you had it last. Kind of like having you for a friend."
Wow. That's one of the best compliments ever. And I feel the same about Wendy and the people who put the party together and the many friends who have added spiced to my life. You're all saffron in my book.
Friends Lorie and Tom offered to host an engagement party for me and Mike while he was in town over Memorial weekend. We picked up 10 pounds of carne asada and headed over to their place for a Sunday evening BBQ. Other friends brought tasty salads, sides, fabulous desserts, adorable offspring and their fun selves to the party.
It was fun to catch up with everyone and update them on the wedding plans. Plus there's something intimate about coming together to share a meal. It's routine, yet it can be such a delectable experience. Anyone who's been on a bad/blind date knows the value of good company--or barring that, good food.
My friend, Wendy, whom I've known since high school (maybe junior high--it's nebulous) joined in the engagement BBQ fun. She gave me a colorful box, which I opened later when I rediscovered it in my purse. In it: a tiny jar of saffron.
In explanation, she said: "What's funny about saffron is you use it few and far between, but it's always precious and just as great as when you had it last. Kind of like having you for a friend."
Wow. That's one of the best compliments ever. And I feel the same about Wendy and the people who put the party together and the many friends who have added spiced to my life. You're all saffron in my book.
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Feeling Trunky
Why, when I have the most to do and dwindling time in which to get everything done, do I feel so paralyzed?
There's all the things on the wedding to-do list (make calls, purchases, appointments). And the getting-ready-to-move things, like collecting boxes, changing addresses again and figuring out the most economical and hassle-free way to get my stuff from CA to TX. Oh, and I have to figure out how to make this journey with a persnickety cat.
Then there's the stuff I need to do to get ready to leave work. There's the "daily laundry"--the tasks I do daily/weekly anyway and don't want to appear to be blowing off although I'm seriously trunky* and can't really see tackling the stack of files under my desk after they've resided there for a year. (Trunky: a term used to describe missionaries on the verge of wrapping up their service--everything's in their trunk ready to go home waaay before they're scheduled to actually depart).
I also need to tidy things up for the person taking over my work by writing up my desk procedures, updating computer documentation and cleaning out my files. You know, the stuff I could have been working on when our plans/time line started to become clear and still haven't done?
I have 10 years' worth of personal email to clean out of my Eudora before wiping it. I don't want to trash everything; it's my history. But I'm also not making progress in sorting through what I do want to keep and putting it in a portable format.
The last time I looked at the clock , it was noon. Now it's 1:00 pm and I can't tell you where that last hour went or what I was doing. Only that I'm ravenous and I didn't spend that hour doing anything I should be doing. Foo.
There's all the things on the wedding to-do list (make calls, purchases, appointments). And the getting-ready-to-move things, like collecting boxes, changing addresses again and figuring out the most economical and hassle-free way to get my stuff from CA to TX. Oh, and I have to figure out how to make this journey with a persnickety cat.
Then there's the stuff I need to do to get ready to leave work. There's the "daily laundry"--the tasks I do daily/weekly anyway and don't want to appear to be blowing off although I'm seriously trunky* and can't really see tackling the stack of files under my desk after they've resided there for a year. (Trunky: a term used to describe missionaries on the verge of wrapping up their service--everything's in their trunk ready to go home waaay before they're scheduled to actually depart).
I also need to tidy things up for the person taking over my work by writing up my desk procedures, updating computer documentation and cleaning out my files. You know, the stuff I could have been working on when our plans/time line started to become clear and still haven't done?
I have 10 years' worth of personal email to clean out of my Eudora before wiping it. I don't want to trash everything; it's my history. But I'm also not making progress in sorting through what I do want to keep and putting it in a portable format.
The last time I looked at the clock , it was noon. Now it's 1:00 pm and I can't tell you where that last hour went or what I was doing. Only that I'm ravenous and I didn't spend that hour doing anything I should be doing. Foo.
Friday, May 26, 2006
Playing catchup
A dizzying number of things have happened before and between the last few entries.
- Went to St. Louis for Mike's son's high school graduation. Nice graduation & baccalaureate ceremonies and a fun dinner in honor of the graduate.
- Had the Upas house inspected. Found some things we'll need to fix. Sellers are at their break-even point and don't want to make/pay for any of the repairs, but they will leave us the picnic table umbrella.
- We're shopping for major appliances.
- We registered at Bed, Bath & Beyond last night. (Stopped when I became deranged from lack of food. Retreated to El Torito for dinner).
- BB&B gives us free wedding web space, planning guides, and wee little flyers trumpeting our registry with them that they want us to stick in our invitations. Not. But I did start building the web page so people can see all the info in one place.
- Went to book group this week and ALMOST finished the book (Crossing to Safety). The book group women are having a shower for me at the next meeting. Should be fun--they're getting books. Yay!
- I've decided to give 3 weeks' notice at work. I can stay through the first week in July if they want me that long. If not, I wrap up neatly--and on a payday--June 30.
- I can't help but overhear the lamentations, frustrations and teeth-gnashing over the ongoing ineptness of C, who was shifted into Oracle data entry work. The trainers have to check and correct a good deal of her work, which is stressing them out. C keeps repeating mistakes they thought they trained her out of.
- We're going to the caterer's tonight for a tasting!
- We're having an engagement BBQ Sunday at a friend's house. Looking forward to mucho carne asada and mingling.
- Meeting with our officiant Saturday. This means we'll need to have some idea of What We Want for the ceremony. I have a cute template to use for the programs, but I'm unsure of the actual content. Perhaps I should vow to Hear Mike Out, since much misunderstanding comes when I interrupt/fly off the handle without him getting to finish his thought/sentence. He could vow to feed me when my eyes glaze over and I start giggling and shooting random bathroom fixtures with the registry UPC tracker.
I'll try to post something other than a bulleted list over the weekend.
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Making it Official
We saw The daVinci Code over the weekend and read some of the Salt Lake Tribune's coverage of the issues surrounding the film. One of the articles mentioned the feast day for Mary Magdalene is on July 22--the day Mike and I are getting married! Given our interest in the Divine Feminine and balanced female/male partnerships, this is a way cool synchronicity.
There has been a hiccup in the planning process. Mom and dad double teamed me a couple of weeks ago to express their STRONG preference to have a Mormon perform the wedding ceremony. They insist it will KILL THEM if I don't.
I made it clear from the beginning that we were not planning a temple wedding because we wanted all our loved ones to attend; we weren't comfortable with the exclusion a temple wedding would impose. The folks weren't happy about it, but seemed to acclimate. Now they're up in arms about the officiant being LDS--as if having a bishop or SP performing a civil ceremony will make it more like an ordinance.
I wasn't able to get them to articulate exactly *why* this is so important to them. They kept saying, "But you're Mormon!" as if this was evidence enough against having my Buddhist monk friend or other non-Mormon do the ceremony. They're shocked that Mike doesn't care who officiates (especially since he was in a bishopric).
I know who mom and dad want me to pick and I'm (perhaps childishly) resisting now that they've made a stink. I don't care about the denomination of the officiant, either. I do care about setting the right, celebratory tone. It IS a celebration and I don't want it to be treated as "less than" because it's a civil ceremony and not a temple wedding.
I don't want the ceremony to turn into a lecture on temple marriage or a recitation of the Proclamation on the Family--something I fear a bishop or SP might slip into. You know how some PH leaders go on "calling autopilot" and say/do things they wouldn't as a civilian?
My friend, Kirsten, suggested a brilliant workaround in the form of our mutual friend, Mark. He's LDS, which should satisfy mom and dad. And he's someone I trust to respect our wishes regarding the ceremony. We're cutting it a bit close, but we should be able to get him deputized in time.
There has been a hiccup in the planning process. Mom and dad double teamed me a couple of weeks ago to express their STRONG preference to have a Mormon perform the wedding ceremony. They insist it will KILL THEM if I don't.
I made it clear from the beginning that we were not planning a temple wedding because we wanted all our loved ones to attend; we weren't comfortable with the exclusion a temple wedding would impose. The folks weren't happy about it, but seemed to acclimate. Now they're up in arms about the officiant being LDS--as if having a bishop or SP performing a civil ceremony will make it more like an ordinance.
I wasn't able to get them to articulate exactly *why* this is so important to them. They kept saying, "But you're Mormon!" as if this was evidence enough against having my Buddhist monk friend or other non-Mormon do the ceremony. They're shocked that Mike doesn't care who officiates (especially since he was in a bishopric).
I know who mom and dad want me to pick and I'm (perhaps childishly) resisting now that they've made a stink. I don't care about the denomination of the officiant, either. I do care about setting the right, celebratory tone. It IS a celebration and I don't want it to be treated as "less than" because it's a civil ceremony and not a temple wedding.
I don't want the ceremony to turn into a lecture on temple marriage or a recitation of the Proclamation on the Family--something I fear a bishop or SP might slip into. You know how some PH leaders go on "calling autopilot" and say/do things they wouldn't as a civilian?
My friend, Kirsten, suggested a brilliant workaround in the form of our mutual friend, Mark. He's LDS, which should satisfy mom and dad. And he's someone I trust to respect our wishes regarding the ceremony. We're cutting it a bit close, but we should be able to get him deputized in time.
Friday, May 19, 2006
Respects from 30,000 feet
My flight to St. Louis left LAX and headed toward the desert. The pilot said we could see Las Vegas from the left side of the plane. Sure enough, there was the strip, the speedway and I-15 winding off into the distance. A few minutes later, I saw the long strip of green marking Overton, NV, a little town about 50 miles northeast of glittery Las Vegas.
My dad's biological father is buried in Overton in a cemetery at the end of a runway--an apt final resting place for a pilot. Glen Haren was a dashing fellow and my dad is a chip off the old genetic block. Mom showed me a picture of Glen by a plane dressed for flight and I thought it was my dad.
Glen's second wife, Carlotta, has joined him in Overton. Dad and I drove up to her memorial service in October 2004. We got a late start leaving the funeral home but soon caught up to the long processional following the white hearse out of town.
When we arrived at the cemetery, we saw that the hole was the only part of the preparations completed before the crew went to lunch. So we stood in the sun and waited, then watched as the workman lowered the crypt into the ground, set up scaffolding to hold the coffin, pitched the shade tent, set up chairs for the service and covered the displaced dirt with an incongruous swatch of green Astroturf.
It was quite a spectacle, start to finish. The grieving adults seemed transfixed watching the process. They'd snap out of it long enough to keep the great-grandkids from throwing rocks in the hole. The older grandkids had placed tributes on Glen's headstone: a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of Jack Daniels. For Carlotta, they brought flowers.
Carlotta knew Glen had been married before and had a son, so she wasn't completely surprised when my dad contacted her. Sadly, Glen died 5 years before my dad unraveled the convoluted family history and discovered his biological father and the dad he grew up with were not the same guy.
Carlotta opened her home and heart to my dad. Most of his step-siblings did likewise, and we became part of an enormous, loosely Mormon, car-restoring/repairing, sometimes-feuding clan of Harens and Carlotta's house was the hub.
I start my chapter as stepmother soon. As I do, I'd like to take a page from Carlotta's book of hospitality. No matter who turned up at her doorstep, she'd take them in, have a long talk, make them feel welcome and feed them--physical or emotional nourishment, whichever was needed. I'd like to be at the hub of such a warm, loving, open operation.
Cheers, Carlotta and Glen. Nice seeing you again.
My dad's biological father is buried in Overton in a cemetery at the end of a runway--an apt final resting place for a pilot. Glen Haren was a dashing fellow and my dad is a chip off the old genetic block. Mom showed me a picture of Glen by a plane dressed for flight and I thought it was my dad.
Glen's second wife, Carlotta, has joined him in Overton. Dad and I drove up to her memorial service in October 2004. We got a late start leaving the funeral home but soon caught up to the long processional following the white hearse out of town.
When we arrived at the cemetery, we saw that the hole was the only part of the preparations completed before the crew went to lunch. So we stood in the sun and waited, then watched as the workman lowered the crypt into the ground, set up scaffolding to hold the coffin, pitched the shade tent, set up chairs for the service and covered the displaced dirt with an incongruous swatch of green Astroturf.
It was quite a spectacle, start to finish. The grieving adults seemed transfixed watching the process. They'd snap out of it long enough to keep the great-grandkids from throwing rocks in the hole. The older grandkids had placed tributes on Glen's headstone: a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of Jack Daniels. For Carlotta, they brought flowers.
Carlotta knew Glen had been married before and had a son, so she wasn't completely surprised when my dad contacted her. Sadly, Glen died 5 years before my dad unraveled the convoluted family history and discovered his biological father and the dad he grew up with were not the same guy.
Carlotta opened her home and heart to my dad. Most of his step-siblings did likewise, and we became part of an enormous, loosely Mormon, car-restoring/repairing, sometimes-feuding clan of Harens and Carlotta's house was the hub.
I start my chapter as stepmother soon. As I do, I'd like to take a page from Carlotta's book of hospitality. No matter who turned up at her doorstep, she'd take them in, have a long talk, make them feel welcome and feed them--physical or emotional nourishment, whichever was needed. I'd like to be at the hub of such a warm, loving, open operation.
Cheers, Carlotta and Glen. Nice seeing you again.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Post Haste
Just a quick note before I leave to board the cat and head to St. Louis for future step son's graduation.
Angela and I spent many productive hours getting the invitations prepped. No, I didn't rush home to get the invites after all. I had one in my ubiquitous wedding planning notebook and we used that to get the dimensions. We printed the map/directions to the site and the ceremony inserts and all the mailing labels (for all complete addresses I had--there are still some stragglers).
Lee helped download the fancy font so all the printed materials and labels match the font on the invitations. A very productive if wearying night!
And I managed to swing by Starbucks yesterday and bought $13 worth of coffee. What I really wanted was not the coffee but the Black Apron Limited Edition package designed by artist Lane Twitchell, who is married to the talented and amazing Adriana who I knew from our college/feminist activism days.
See more of Lane's work here: http://www.lanetwitchell.com/ I'd like to own one of his other pieces someday, but for now the bitchen coffee packaging must suffice.
Check out Adriana's blog if you haven't already wandered there from my links: http://whatimadefordinner.blogspot.com
Angela and I spent many productive hours getting the invitations prepped. No, I didn't rush home to get the invites after all. I had one in my ubiquitous wedding planning notebook and we used that to get the dimensions. We printed the map/directions to the site and the ceremony inserts and all the mailing labels (for all complete addresses I had--there are still some stragglers).
Lee helped download the fancy font so all the printed materials and labels match the font on the invitations. A very productive if wearying night!
And I managed to swing by Starbucks yesterday and bought $13 worth of coffee. What I really wanted was not the coffee but the Black Apron Limited Edition package designed by artist Lane Twitchell, who is married to the talented and amazing Adriana who I knew from our college/feminist activism days.
See more of Lane's work here: http://www.lanetwitchell.com/ I'd like to own one of his other pieces someday, but for now the bitchen coffee packaging must suffice.
Check out Adriana's blog if you haven't already wandered there from my links: http://whatimadefordinner.blogspot.com
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Note to self...
When you plan a Tuesday night get together with the matron of honor to print mailing labels, maps and inserts for the wedding invitations, it would have been a smashing idea to bring the wedding invitations with you.
Instead of leaving half a dozen boxes of wedding-related paper products on the floor of your bedroom, thereby necessitating an hour-long trip home on surface streets to fetch them.
Foo.
Instead of leaving half a dozen boxes of wedding-related paper products on the floor of your bedroom, thereby necessitating an hour-long trip home on surface streets to fetch them.
Foo.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Updates Galore
Where to start?
Yesterday's news about the house still has me reeling. In a good way.
I also picked up the reprinted invitations at Party City last night and they look great! This means I need to get cracking on the mailing list and putting together the map/directions inserts.
The book group ladies are going to throw a shower at our June meeting--the same month we're reading Freakanomics. Wonder if there's anything about the bridal industry in there; I'm sure freaking as I add up the budget items.
Another friend offered her house for a Memorial weekend engagement BBQ and yet another suggested a Thai Town bachelorette outing--eat Thai food, maybe get Thai massages and hope to catch a glimpse of Thai Elvis. I'm not going to get any of that action in South Texas.
I also talked to future MIL Sue about the rehearsal dinner. That will be at Burger Continental on a night there will be belly dancers. Woo hoo! It feels like things are settling nicely into place.
I'm still a bit angsty about delivering the news of my departure at work. The only other time I've ever quit a job was when I left Horner & Co., the great Satan of real estate appraisers and moved back to California for grad school. And boy was I glad to leave. The same applies here, for mostly different reasons.
I'm having a really hard time working up the energy to fill in my annual review paperwork, due Friday. Oh, and I'd like to use as few words as possible since my new supervisor called me "verbose" in last year's review.
Goals for the next review period: none. Performance expectations: n/a. Criteria for success: my absence. Timeline: Not soon enough (but I need the money and hopefully those two paid holidays in July).
Yesterday's news about the house still has me reeling. In a good way.
I also picked up the reprinted invitations at Party City last night and they look great! This means I need to get cracking on the mailing list and putting together the map/directions inserts.
The book group ladies are going to throw a shower at our June meeting--the same month we're reading Freakanomics. Wonder if there's anything about the bridal industry in there; I'm sure freaking as I add up the budget items.
Another friend offered her house for a Memorial weekend engagement BBQ and yet another suggested a Thai Town bachelorette outing--eat Thai food, maybe get Thai massages and hope to catch a glimpse of Thai Elvis. I'm not going to get any of that action in South Texas.
I also talked to future MIL Sue about the rehearsal dinner. That will be at Burger Continental on a night there will be belly dancers. Woo hoo! It feels like things are settling nicely into place.
I'm still a bit angsty about delivering the news of my departure at work. The only other time I've ever quit a job was when I left Horner & Co., the great Satan of real estate appraisers and moved back to California for grad school. And boy was I glad to leave. The same applies here, for mostly different reasons.
I'm having a really hard time working up the energy to fill in my annual review paperwork, due Friday. Oh, and I'd like to use as few words as possible since my new supervisor called me "verbose" in last year's review.
Goals for the next review period: none. Performance expectations: n/a. Criteria for success: my absence. Timeline: Not soon enough (but I need the money and hopefully those two paid holidays in July).
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Love Shack
Mike just called to say "Guess who just bought a house?"
Why, that would be us. The owners accepted the offer--no haggling--and only wanted to change the closing date. As of June 9, 2006--barring any unforeseen problems with financing or the house inspection--we will own the house on Upas!
A note on the staggering difference between CA and TX real estate: we're getting a 3 bedroom, 2 bath 1900 square foot house for under $103,000. I saw a listing in the JPL ads for a 3 bed, 2 bath, 1900 sq.ft. house in Altadena. Asking price: $825,000. Gasp, choke.
And dammit, I left my cell phone at home today and can't call (easily) from the office to share the news with mom and dad.
Here's the MLS listing with interior and exterior pictures:
http://www.navicamls.net/listings/247/MA090556368B.htm
Why, that would be us. The owners accepted the offer--no haggling--and only wanted to change the closing date. As of June 9, 2006--barring any unforeseen problems with financing or the house inspection--we will own the house on Upas!
A note on the staggering difference between CA and TX real estate: we're getting a 3 bedroom, 2 bath 1900 square foot house for under $103,000. I saw a listing in the JPL ads for a 3 bed, 2 bath, 1900 sq.ft. house in Altadena. Asking price: $825,000. Gasp, choke.
And dammit, I left my cell phone at home today and can't call (easily) from the office to share the news with mom and dad.
Here's the MLS listing with interior and exterior pictures:
http://www.navicamls.net/listings/247/MA090556368B.htm
Monday, May 08, 2006
Smells Like Progress
Cake tasting. Check. Opted for chocolate w/chocolate mousse (layer 1). marble w/chocolate mousse (layer 2) and lemon with lemon mousse (layer 3).
Dress alterations. Check. Dress now resides with magically talented seamstress who's going to make it so I can fasten the dress in back and breathe/raise my arms while wearing it. ISO a crinoline or hoop petticoat to wear beneath.
Lunch with mom. Talked about the two times as an adult that she had a major row with her mom (both involved me). While my major rows with mom as an adult far surpass the number two, we were actually able to laugh about it. Including the Bagel Incident (and how we got just as mad talking about it in therapy 6 years later).
Ties for groomspeople. Check. Mom had enough steam to hit Macy's after lunch. Naturally, we disagreed about which ties looked best with the yellow shirt/tan pant combo and coordinated with the bridesmaids' dresses.
The store only had one of the tie I picked (and I needed 3 total), so a helpful sales-teen looked up the UPC number. Turns out the ONLY other store in ALL of California with two of the same tie was in Burbank--just a stone's throw away. I dropped mom off and booked to the Burbank store and bought the other two ties at a 20% discount. I like to think of this as the Miracle of the Neckwear.
Dinner and a movie. Check. Met Robyn for Thai food and caught up on her life & travels and told her about wedding stuff. Was grateful for her perspective on relations with a stepparent.
Even though we didn't want to support the freaky beast known as Tom Cruise, Mission Impossible III was the only bearable flick at the theater. It was action-packed enough to almost make you forget his off-screen antics this year (that's the Real Mission Impossible).
I did take fierce glee in seeing Tom get thwacked into the side of an overturned car on the bridge scene. Mindless action fun with a side of come-uppance. Check.
Dress alterations. Check. Dress now resides with magically talented seamstress who's going to make it so I can fasten the dress in back and breathe/raise my arms while wearing it. ISO a crinoline or hoop petticoat to wear beneath.
Lunch with mom. Talked about the two times as an adult that she had a major row with her mom (both involved me). While my major rows with mom as an adult far surpass the number two, we were actually able to laugh about it. Including the Bagel Incident (and how we got just as mad talking about it in therapy 6 years later).
Ties for groomspeople. Check. Mom had enough steam to hit Macy's after lunch. Naturally, we disagreed about which ties looked best with the yellow shirt/tan pant combo and coordinated with the bridesmaids' dresses.
The store only had one of the tie I picked (and I needed 3 total), so a helpful sales-teen looked up the UPC number. Turns out the ONLY other store in ALL of California with two of the same tie was in Burbank--just a stone's throw away. I dropped mom off and booked to the Burbank store and bought the other two ties at a 20% discount. I like to think of this as the Miracle of the Neckwear.
Dinner and a movie. Check. Met Robyn for Thai food and caught up on her life & travels and told her about wedding stuff. Was grateful for her perspective on relations with a stepparent.
Even though we didn't want to support the freaky beast known as Tom Cruise, Mission Impossible III was the only bearable flick at the theater. It was action-packed enough to almost make you forget his off-screen antics this year (that's the Real Mission Impossible).
I did take fierce glee in seeing Tom get thwacked into the side of an overturned car on the bridge scene. Mindless action fun with a side of come-uppance. Check.
Friday, May 05, 2006
Proof I am not the center of the universe
I've been wearing The Ring to work all week. Not one person has noticed it on their own. Is it Bridezilla-ish of me to wish someone would?
Brown Nosing
I don't do much of this myself, but the topic keeps surfacing around me.
Yesterday, Camilla sent an email around the office asking us to bring food Friday for going-away breakfast for a departing co-worker, Kathy. The last few lines of the email left me all agog that C put this sentiment regarding the section manager, Katrina, in writing.
Quoting C's email: "Oh, yes, I almost forgot...we would like to do breakfast at 8:00 a.m. in the morning because Katrina has a meeting at 8:30 a.m. and will not be available the rest of the day...what would a farewell be without the most important person in our section, Katrina Christian. "
Um, isn't Kathy the guest of honor?
And just now, my co-worker called our supervisor to ask if she wanted anything from McDonald's. When Y declined, C started an upsell campaign more relentless than anything I've heard at a fast food counter: How about a salad, do you want a salad? What about chicken tenders? Would you like a parfait? OK, I'll get you a garden salad--just so you know, they're pretty small. Is that all you want or can I get you something else? OK, I'll be back in a little bit!"
I have to think back to high school to recall a time I did something that intentionally ingratiating. I was nominated by my service club to be a candidate for the Sweetheart's Ball court. Each club nominated a member and two girls from each of the 3 participating high schools were chosen to make up the six-person court. The ballgoers then voted for a Queen.
All three nominees from SGHS were interviewed together and the YWCA council would pick two of us to represent our school. We were asked to name a person we admired. One girl said she admired her mom. The other said she admired Bishop Desmond Tutu.
I said I admired Mary Dean, a woman from my church who didn't let age or infirmity get in the way of her volunteer work. She toodled around town in her electric car giving rides to us kids and less able adults.
The brown nosing part: Mary Dean volunteered with the YWCA and I knew at least one of the interviewers KNEW Mary Dean personally and that the others were probably acquainted with her, too. I thought dropping her name would clinch my spot on the court.
Ah, fate. Guess who wasn't chosen.
Yesterday, Camilla sent an email around the office asking us to bring food Friday for going-away breakfast for a departing co-worker, Kathy. The last few lines of the email left me all agog that C put this sentiment regarding the section manager, Katrina, in writing.
Quoting C's email: "Oh, yes, I almost forgot...we would like to do breakfast at 8:00 a.m. in the morning because Katrina has a meeting at 8:30 a.m. and will not be available the rest of the day...what would a farewell be without the most important person in our section, Katrina Christian. "
Um, isn't Kathy the guest of honor?
And just now, my co-worker called our supervisor to ask if she wanted anything from McDonald's. When Y declined, C started an upsell campaign more relentless than anything I've heard at a fast food counter: How about a salad, do you want a salad? What about chicken tenders? Would you like a parfait? OK, I'll get you a garden salad--just so you know, they're pretty small. Is that all you want or can I get you something else? OK, I'll be back in a little bit!"
I have to think back to high school to recall a time I did something that intentionally ingratiating. I was nominated by my service club to be a candidate for the Sweetheart's Ball court. Each club nominated a member and two girls from each of the 3 participating high schools were chosen to make up the six-person court. The ballgoers then voted for a Queen.
All three nominees from SGHS were interviewed together and the YWCA council would pick two of us to represent our school. We were asked to name a person we admired. One girl said she admired her mom. The other said she admired Bishop Desmond Tutu.
I said I admired Mary Dean, a woman from my church who didn't let age or infirmity get in the way of her volunteer work. She toodled around town in her electric car giving rides to us kids and less able adults.
The brown nosing part: Mary Dean volunteered with the YWCA and I knew at least one of the interviewers KNEW Mary Dean personally and that the others were probably acquainted with her, too. I thought dropping her name would clinch my spot on the court.
Ah, fate. Guess who wasn't chosen.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Bling
I was over at Lee and Angela's last night putting together bridal shower invitations. They were spectacular--thanks to Angela's layout, design and mail merge skills and the cute stationery she bought for them.Anyway, I asked if Lee would take a few pictures of The Ring with his digital camera. I have a greater appreciation for eBay sellers now that I've seen how hard it is to get a good picture of jewelry.
The shower invites are the first official paper wedding correspondence going out. We'll tackle the wedding invitations as soon as they get back from being reprinted.
Party City called while I was in Texas to let me know the invitations had come in. When I leafed through the invites, I saw the ink on the invitations was uneven--one line appeared darker than the rest or the top lines were noticeably darker/lighter than the bottom ones. When I got to the bottom of the stack, I found about a dozen that were either blank or damaged (some were both). There were 15 RSVP cards without printing as well.
I ordered more than I needed, but didn't calculate that printing snafus would eat up all the extras. So I sent them back to be redone. Fortunately, the turnaround time is short. Hoping for better quality in run #2.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
CHiPs Magnet
Did I mention that Erik Estrada was on my flight from Dallas to Burbank?
He may not be everyone's cup of tea, but he's damn good looking in person--and looks like he hasn't aged since his Jon and Ponch days.
A couple of women approached him in baggage claim and he was all megawatt smiles with them. I saw another woman nudge her daughter to take a look at the real live 80s heartthrob before them. I imagine few under the age of 20 knew who he was.
I'm guessing the frequency of my celebrity sightings is going to drop once my home base is in Texas. Unless I start bumping into telenovela actors at the flea market in Pharr.
He may not be everyone's cup of tea, but he's damn good looking in person--and looks like he hasn't aged since his Jon and Ponch days.
A couple of women approached him in baggage claim and he was all megawatt smiles with them. I saw another woman nudge her daughter to take a look at the real live 80s heartthrob before them. I imagine few under the age of 20 knew who he was.
I'm guessing the frequency of my celebrity sightings is going to drop once my home base is in Texas. Unless I start bumping into telenovela actors at the flea market in Pharr.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
While I Was Out
On our way to the credit union this morning, Grace filled me in on what happened at work while I was gone.
Grace and I complained that Cindy's music was too loud/too distracting for us to work, so Cindy got herself a pair of headphones. Grace didn't have to listen to the music, but Cindy's toe tapping and singing along proved a new annoyance. When G needed to ask C something, she'd have to go into C's office to get her attention--C couldn't hear G calling to her. How can anyone concentrate on work with the tunes cranked that loud?
Last week was Administrative Professionals Day. As usual, the party planning fell on the Closeout Group's shoulders--and they pulled together a pizza party with only two days to plan. (I'm not sorry I missed this).
Grace also mentioned that our Academic Part-Time employee, Kathy, got a job at the LA Times and had given her 2 weeks' notice. This is blow to our little group--and puts more of a burden on our supervisor.
Kathy was the Subject Matter Expert in Oracle data entry. We used to have a full time person doing Oracle data entry; when she went out on medical leave, my old supervisor, Ken, and the new APT Mayra filled in. When Mayra left, Kathy took over--with the programmer, Yvonne, Grace and our section secretary, Socorro, filling in on the days Kathy was at school. Soco is out on medical leave until late July, leaving the team short.
What was really needed: one full-time person and a backup to perform the job. Instead, there's a patchwork of people, each with an incomplete knowledge of the entry process. Now, The Powers that created the scenario in which a transient, academic part-time worker performed critical data entry into our financial system now has to reap what was sown.
In another alarming decision, the same Powers have decided that detail-averse Camilla is going to take over the Oracle data entry and the new APT will be trained to do the document scanning. Lordy, I can't think of a worse move. Oracle is unforgiving and errors are complicated to fix. Data entry errors and the operator who made them have high visibility in the system.
Despite the regular demonstrations of C's ineptness with daily chores like photocopying and distribution, her poor performance after she took over the scanning and her frequent absenteeism, the Powers are assigning her more demanding work. Good luck with that!
And again they'll pay the piper for it. I'll be around just long enough to see the train wreck--and be glad that the cleanup is Not My Problem.
Grace and I complained that Cindy's music was too loud/too distracting for us to work, so Cindy got herself a pair of headphones. Grace didn't have to listen to the music, but Cindy's toe tapping and singing along proved a new annoyance. When G needed to ask C something, she'd have to go into C's office to get her attention--C couldn't hear G calling to her. How can anyone concentrate on work with the tunes cranked that loud?
Last week was Administrative Professionals Day. As usual, the party planning fell on the Closeout Group's shoulders--and they pulled together a pizza party with only two days to plan. (I'm not sorry I missed this).
Grace also mentioned that our Academic Part-Time employee, Kathy, got a job at the LA Times and had given her 2 weeks' notice. This is blow to our little group--and puts more of a burden on our supervisor.
Kathy was the Subject Matter Expert in Oracle data entry. We used to have a full time person doing Oracle data entry; when she went out on medical leave, my old supervisor, Ken, and the new APT Mayra filled in. When Mayra left, Kathy took over--with the programmer, Yvonne, Grace and our section secretary, Socorro, filling in on the days Kathy was at school. Soco is out on medical leave until late July, leaving the team short.
What was really needed: one full-time person and a backup to perform the job. Instead, there's a patchwork of people, each with an incomplete knowledge of the entry process. Now, The Powers that created the scenario in which a transient, academic part-time worker performed critical data entry into our financial system now has to reap what was sown.
In another alarming decision, the same Powers have decided that detail-averse Camilla is going to take over the Oracle data entry and the new APT will be trained to do the document scanning. Lordy, I can't think of a worse move. Oracle is unforgiving and errors are complicated to fix. Data entry errors and the operator who made them have high visibility in the system.
Despite the regular demonstrations of C's ineptness with daily chores like photocopying and distribution, her poor performance after she took over the scanning and her frequent absenteeism, the Powers are assigning her more demanding work. Good luck with that!
And again they'll pay the piper for it. I'll be around just long enough to see the train wreck--and be glad that the cleanup is Not My Problem.
Engaged at Work
I decided to wear The Ring to the office and start leaking the news of our engagement but I wasn't sure how to proceed. Say something? Email? Let people discover the prismatic bling on their own? Suddenly do everything left handed?
I opted to plant a seed during a stroll to the credit union with Grace. She didn't notice The Ring, but on the way back, she asked me about my trip. I said it was very nice to spend time with Mike--and that I got a surprise while I was there. Held up the left hand and let The Ring say the rest. She gasped, then hugged and congratulated me. (Hey, this part's fun!)
Then came the questions: When is the wedding? Will it be this year? Is Mike moving here? What do my parents think? Asked how the proposal happened (The Burbank Airport, a concrete bench and thou).
I was vague about our plans other than to say Mike had seen an opening at Claremont (true) and his summer schedule allows him to do research anywhere there's an internet connection.
By then, we were back in our building and G steered me toward Yvonne's office to share the news. That way G could convey the gist of the news and I could beam and add details as needed. Y was also happily congratulatory and came over to see The Ring up close. Also started with the questions: When's the wedding? Mike's coming here, yes? Now you have to start making decisions, she says--the wedding dress, bridesmaids, cakes, etc. I pretended to run away, overwhelmed with the details (which is also true about 60% of the time). I will take her advice: keep the wedding simple. Insofar as I can.
I probably could have worn the ring around for a week or two without anyone noticing, but it's nice to have at least the engagement part out in the open. Now I just have to keep the wedding planning--and how far along the planning is--stealthy until I announce my departure.
I opted to plant a seed during a stroll to the credit union with Grace. She didn't notice The Ring, but on the way back, she asked me about my trip. I said it was very nice to spend time with Mike--and that I got a surprise while I was there. Held up the left hand and let The Ring say the rest. She gasped, then hugged and congratulated me. (Hey, this part's fun!)
Then came the questions: When is the wedding? Will it be this year? Is Mike moving here? What do my parents think? Asked how the proposal happened (The Burbank Airport, a concrete bench and thou).
I was vague about our plans other than to say Mike had seen an opening at Claremont (true) and his summer schedule allows him to do research anywhere there's an internet connection.
By then, we were back in our building and G steered me toward Yvonne's office to share the news. That way G could convey the gist of the news and I could beam and add details as needed. Y was also happily congratulatory and came over to see The Ring up close. Also started with the questions: When's the wedding? Mike's coming here, yes? Now you have to start making decisions, she says--the wedding dress, bridesmaids, cakes, etc. I pretended to run away, overwhelmed with the details (which is also true about 60% of the time). I will take her advice: keep the wedding simple. Insofar as I can.
I probably could have worn the ring around for a week or two without anyone noticing, but it's nice to have at least the engagement part out in the open. Now I just have to keep the wedding planning--and how far along the planning is--stealthy until I announce my departure.
Monday, May 01, 2006
Wrap up
Just a few items from the last couple of days in Texas:
- The Upas house has a rival--a smaller but mostly comparable house in Mission with a screened porch, fenced yard and great curb appeal. Less room for bookcases and an office, but it's newer and has a better kitchen. The fresh paint in some rooms looked like a rush job to get it listed.
- We haven't seen the inspection report on the repo, but we're both thinking no on that one. I get exhausted just thinking about the work it needs. I still want to see the report for curiosity's sake.
- Saturday night we partied Turkish style with Mike's colleagues and some of the PhD students from the business program. Great food & good conversation--and so many new names to remember!
- We went to the McAllen First Ward Sunday. There was a deacon posted at each chapel door; they refused entry to anyone who showed up after the sacrament hymn started and held the doors shut while the sacrament was passed. No deacons went into the lobby to pass the sacrament to latecomers, either. Struck me as hard core and unnecessarily exclusive. Is this the work of a Utah transplant or a local trying to out-righteous Utah?
- Sacrament meeting kinda freaked me out. In Sunday School, Mike pointed out we had a woman gospel doctrine teacher. Nice. (Then she read almost the whole lesson right out of the manual and talked over people's comments; less nice). Mike stirred the pot a bit with one of his comments--disarming one's enemies by loving them as Christ taught rather than, say, starting wars. In the joint RS/PH meeting, we got a lecture on emergency preparedness, a FEMA/DHS handout on emergency planning and watched a glossy, emotionally manipulative church video. On the plus side, many people introduced themselves and we even got a dinner invite from the young couple we sat next to.
- Further proof there are only 2 degees of separation in Mormondom: I met a guy in the McAllen ward who grew up in my old stake--Los Angeles East. His oldest sister is close to my age and his mom and my mom were big into the roadshows and stake plays back in the day.
- I called my mom to tell her about the old stake connection in McAllen and she had a sighting of her own to report. Mom and dad left church early (building was freezing cold) and went out to dinner. They saw a couple come in--didn't think much of it. When the couple got up to leave, mom said she could feel someone staring at them. The guy came over to their table and asked "Where do I know you from?" It was my ex-boyfriend, Jim. Mom said (with some glee since she knew who he was) "We're Mary Ellen's parents." Jim looked sorry he'd asked and made a hasty retreat without asking anything further.
- Mom reports my cat has been a terror in my absence--making new mischief daily. He's also been cozying up to mom, dad and even brother John and letting them pet him and climbing up on their laps. He'll be especially glad to see me.
- I'm going to keep wearing The Ring, even to work. I figure I can deflect invasive queries until closer to the time I'm ready to reveal my future plans in mid-June.
Well, I need to pack the last of my things for the trip home. :( Will miss Mike terribly. Looking forward to ending the long-distance relationsip and settling down together here in a few months.
Saturday, April 29, 2006
Lightning round
Diane picks us up in 15 minutes. We'll see another 6 houses and revisit the repo and the house on Upas.
The bonus: finding out yesterday that Jaime the house inspector had already inspected the repo for the listing agent and we can get a copy of the report! It hasn't shown up yet, but it should make for interesting reading.
Janet says the fact that Mike and I drove by Upas again is a good sign. :)
More later!
The bonus: finding out yesterday that Jaime the house inspector had already inspected the repo for the listing agent and we can get a copy of the report! It hasn't shown up yet, but it should make for interesting reading.
Janet says the fact that Mike and I drove by Upas again is a good sign. :)
More later!
Friday, April 28, 2006
Narrowing the field
We saw two more houses Thursday, but neither was spectacular enough to unseat the leading candidates.
One house did have a gas stove--a curiosity in this area. I never thought that amenity would be hard to come by, but everything is electric here. The homeowner told us he'd wired the connection himself from a 5 gallon tank outside to the stove inside. (I'm glad to know this is an option, but eeek!)
We talked with Diane about the merits of the two properties we're leaning toward: the repo on Norma Lane and the turnkey house on Upas.
Diane said the repo costs more than other fix-and-flip properties in the area, which may be why no one has snapped it up after 145 days on the market. IF all it needs is cosmetic changes, it might be the better investment. It's newer, closer to the university and is in a nice neighborhood. We could fix it up, live in it a few years, then sell with more of a profit.
We made an appointment with a home inspector Saturday to go through the repo with us. Figured $150 was a reasonable investment to find out whether the work needed is merely cosmetic or more involved. Mike said he's waiting for the repo to make a compelling argument to stay in the running. We'll see.
We went to a movie last night at the dollar theater. The theater smelled of urine, so it's unlikely we'll go back anytime soon. We had a heck of a time finding the place. They aren't really great with signage, plus most of the major roads through town have been renamed several times (Pecan/Farm Road 495), adding to the confusion.
Afterward, we drove through the neighborhood around the Upas house. We got lost and drove through a mobile home park. Don't know what that does to the property values; it seemed quiet and well-maintained. We found Upas and parked near the house and just sat there soaking in the surroundings.
The other houses on the block are nicely kept up. We saw another property for sale a block or so away. It's smaller--and so is the asking price by $17K. Makes me wonder how much comps in the area are going for and how much the homeowner is willing to negotiate down. The price is already reduced, but was it artificially high to begin with?
Given the age and location of the Upas property, Diane thinks it would be harder to sell later on. Most development is happening farther north of Upas and most people moving into the area are more interested in newer, cookie-cutter subdivision homes.
Another (minor) consideration: the repo is in the Edinburg Ward--given its proximity to UTPA, it's likely to have university faculty in the ward. The Upas house is within walking distance of one of the McAllen ward buildings--one with an English and a Spanish-speaking ward using it. Mike hasn't visited there yet, but he said 20 minutes of Sunday School in the Mission Ward was enough to make him want to gouge his eyes out. Uptight transplanted Mormons are also something we'd like to avoid.
We'll have to wait another day to get the scoop on the repo. We'll look at a few more houses Saturday morning, but we're both leaning a lot closer toward Upas.
One house did have a gas stove--a curiosity in this area. I never thought that amenity would be hard to come by, but everything is electric here. The homeowner told us he'd wired the connection himself from a 5 gallon tank outside to the stove inside. (I'm glad to know this is an option, but eeek!)
We talked with Diane about the merits of the two properties we're leaning toward: the repo on Norma Lane and the turnkey house on Upas.
Diane said the repo costs more than other fix-and-flip properties in the area, which may be why no one has snapped it up after 145 days on the market. IF all it needs is cosmetic changes, it might be the better investment. It's newer, closer to the university and is in a nice neighborhood. We could fix it up, live in it a few years, then sell with more of a profit.
We made an appointment with a home inspector Saturday to go through the repo with us. Figured $150 was a reasonable investment to find out whether the work needed is merely cosmetic or more involved. Mike said he's waiting for the repo to make a compelling argument to stay in the running. We'll see.
We went to a movie last night at the dollar theater. The theater smelled of urine, so it's unlikely we'll go back anytime soon. We had a heck of a time finding the place. They aren't really great with signage, plus most of the major roads through town have been renamed several times (Pecan/Farm Road 495), adding to the confusion.
Afterward, we drove through the neighborhood around the Upas house. We got lost and drove through a mobile home park. Don't know what that does to the property values; it seemed quiet and well-maintained. We found Upas and parked near the house and just sat there soaking in the surroundings.
The other houses on the block are nicely kept up. We saw another property for sale a block or so away. It's smaller--and so is the asking price by $17K. Makes me wonder how much comps in the area are going for and how much the homeowner is willing to negotiate down. The price is already reduced, but was it artificially high to begin with?
Given the age and location of the Upas property, Diane thinks it would be harder to sell later on. Most development is happening farther north of Upas and most people moving into the area are more interested in newer, cookie-cutter subdivision homes.
Another (minor) consideration: the repo is in the Edinburg Ward--given its proximity to UTPA, it's likely to have university faculty in the ward. The Upas house is within walking distance of one of the McAllen ward buildings--one with an English and a Spanish-speaking ward using it. Mike hasn't visited there yet, but he said 20 minutes of Sunday School in the Mission Ward was enough to make him want to gouge his eyes out. Uptight transplanted Mormons are also something we'd like to avoid.
We'll have to wait another day to get the scoop on the repo. We'll look at a few more houses Saturday morning, but we're both leaning a lot closer toward Upas.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
House Hunting Part 2: The Contenders
Spent the morning with real estate agent Diane. Told us some stories about her work--how it can be handy to carry a firearm and how she was inadvertantly responsible for getting a homeowner's cat knocked up. (Diane had strict instructions not to let the cat outside. After the showing, she saw a white cat outside, so she corralled it and put it back in the house. Turns out the cat she "put back" in the house was a male neighborhood cat who got busy with the in-heat female cat who was in the house the whole time. Whoops).
We saw another five properties today. The first house was a few blocks from Mike's apartment. The interior was an unrelenting shade of peach with pink/mauve tile in the kitchen. Its side yard and patio would be great for entertaining/gardening, but indoors seemed a little cramped.
The second house had a great kitchen layout, lots of closet space, laminate wood floors and tub/shower combos in both bathrooms. The downside: there's only a chain link fence between the backyard and a canal. And the canal was having some noisy construction work done--prep work for a new development planned for the opposite bank.
The third house was in Mission--a town west of McAllen, which would make Mike's commute longer and up the property taxes according to Diane. The house has good bone structure, but needs some serious help from HGTV. The kitchen counters are pink laminate (what is up with the pink kitchens?!) and the cupboards could use a coat of paint. No room for a dishwasher without losing precious cabinets. A dated-looking sprinkler system is wired into the kitchen--not set up in the garage as is usual. The washer/dryer could be moved outside to the garage (a plus) and the space used for a pantry instead. Vile carpet and wallpaper in the master bedroom and a private commode. There's a bonus room at the front of the house that could be an office or library. The yard isn't deep, but it wraps as wide around the side of the house as it does at the back. Has a couple of mature trees and potential for an enormous garden.
At the fourth house, we startled the occupants. Diane started speaking Spanish to the woman who opened the door; she answered in what we thought was Hindi and directed us to the other occupants (who were busy calming their Chihuahua). The living and bedrooms were spacious, but the kitchen was a wee, cramped space with no room for a dishwasher, ever. The backyard had a couple of mature fruit trees and a concrete basketball half court (yay) but the rear of the property abuts a road and a self storage complex (boo). The garage was massive, with laundry, storage and built-in shelving. Didn't care for the dark green/black shiny tile floors. Makes me think "bordello."
House #5 was my favorite: two living areas plus a large den built onto the back of the house. Shade trees, mature citrus and lush, well-cared for back lawn and garden. Nice-sized rooms and bathrooms with plenty of storage, a separate laundry room between the garage and kitchen and a cement patio with built-in BBQ grill. The painting and colors are tasteful (meaning we wouldn't have to repaint). The kitchen is small. And pink. (Seriously, was pink on sale 1984-1991?) We're already talking about knocking out the wall between the kitchen and dining area to make more room to work in, maybe add an island...
This one's my top pick. Mike likes this one and the house in Mission that needs the style update--and he's thinking the repo we saw yesterday is a contender. It would be a bargain, true. But how much work (and money) would we have to put in to make it as livable as house #5 already is? Mike's thinking we'd stay in the repo long enough to fix it up, build equity, then sell and have the means to upgrade to a more posh dwelling. House #5 we'd be in for the long haul. It's older than the others, so we'd likely have to deal with more issues as it ages.
In the meantime, I have a few more listings to read through for tomorrow so Diane can make the necessary appointments. I think we've already seen the one we'll buy--but which one will it be?
We saw another five properties today. The first house was a few blocks from Mike's apartment. The interior was an unrelenting shade of peach with pink/mauve tile in the kitchen. Its side yard and patio would be great for entertaining/gardening, but indoors seemed a little cramped.
The second house had a great kitchen layout, lots of closet space, laminate wood floors and tub/shower combos in both bathrooms. The downside: there's only a chain link fence between the backyard and a canal. And the canal was having some noisy construction work done--prep work for a new development planned for the opposite bank.
The third house was in Mission--a town west of McAllen, which would make Mike's commute longer and up the property taxes according to Diane. The house has good bone structure, but needs some serious help from HGTV. The kitchen counters are pink laminate (what is up with the pink kitchens?!) and the cupboards could use a coat of paint. No room for a dishwasher without losing precious cabinets. A dated-looking sprinkler system is wired into the kitchen--not set up in the garage as is usual. The washer/dryer could be moved outside to the garage (a plus) and the space used for a pantry instead. Vile carpet and wallpaper in the master bedroom and a private commode. There's a bonus room at the front of the house that could be an office or library. The yard isn't deep, but it wraps as wide around the side of the house as it does at the back. Has a couple of mature trees and potential for an enormous garden.
At the fourth house, we startled the occupants. Diane started speaking Spanish to the woman who opened the door; she answered in what we thought was Hindi and directed us to the other occupants (who were busy calming their Chihuahua). The living and bedrooms were spacious, but the kitchen was a wee, cramped space with no room for a dishwasher, ever. The backyard had a couple of mature fruit trees and a concrete basketball half court (yay) but the rear of the property abuts a road and a self storage complex (boo). The garage was massive, with laundry, storage and built-in shelving. Didn't care for the dark green/black shiny tile floors. Makes me think "bordello."
House #5 was my favorite: two living areas plus a large den built onto the back of the house. Shade trees, mature citrus and lush, well-cared for back lawn and garden. Nice-sized rooms and bathrooms with plenty of storage, a separate laundry room between the garage and kitchen and a cement patio with built-in BBQ grill. The painting and colors are tasteful (meaning we wouldn't have to repaint). The kitchen is small. And pink. (Seriously, was pink on sale 1984-1991?) We're already talking about knocking out the wall between the kitchen and dining area to make more room to work in, maybe add an island...
This one's my top pick. Mike likes this one and the house in Mission that needs the style update--and he's thinking the repo we saw yesterday is a contender. It would be a bargain, true. But how much work (and money) would we have to put in to make it as livable as house #5 already is? Mike's thinking we'd stay in the repo long enough to fix it up, build equity, then sell and have the means to upgrade to a more posh dwelling. House #5 we'd be in for the long haul. It's older than the others, so we'd likely have to deal with more issues as it ages.
In the meantime, I have a few more listings to read through for tomorrow so Diane can make the necessary appointments. I think we've already seen the one we'll buy--but which one will it be?
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
House Hunting Season
Today was our first foray into Texas house hunting.
The realtor took us out in her big momma conversion van to look at a few of the listings we'd checked out online.
The first two were in newer subdivisions. The insides were OK--new construction, walk-in closets, small bedrooms, etc. Thanks to their youth, they also had no fences, no backyard grass and one spindly tree out front per city landscaping requirements. Not exactly what we were looking for.
The third house we saw was a musty-smelling repo. Mustard and tomato-colored walls, dark green linoleum tiles throughout (think doctor's office), some missing tile/fixtures in one bathroom, water damage around one of the skylights and a private commode with saloon-style shutter doors. Can't you just picture John Wayne busting through the shutters after an adventurous dump? I can.
Lest I make it sound too icky, it also has a HUGE kitchen with tons of counter and cupboard space (that needs a style makeover), a large living/dining area, a covered porch, a wood privacy fence (one section downed), and some mature trees in back and a hedgerow along the front. Toweringly high ceilings.
Most of the work needed would appear cosmetic. Is a $75,000 price tag worth the elbow grease necessary to make it presentable? The realtor says comps in the area sell in the high 90s to low 100s. So we'd be getting a 25% discount...but having to do a lot of cleanup work.
The fourth house was owner-occupied; she greeted us in Spanish and showed us around the cherubs and light fixtures shaped like flowers, the large laundry room, the yard with landscaping (and a vocal rooster next door), and shiny, shiny dark tile floor. Turns out, it's too big a house for just the owner and she's looking to downsize. (We didn't like the house enough to help out with that).
The last house we saw was out in the boonies. Just shy of an acre lot, dozens of mature trees and citrus (that needed water). Unfortunately, I liked the yard better than the house. Plus it's pretty far from any services/retail. And if this girl is gonna live in Texas, she needs to be closer to Target. ;)
Tomorrow we'll meet Diane the realtor for round two of house hunting, focusing on McAllen rather than Edinburg and looking for houses with mature trees and fenced yards. Stay tuned!
The realtor took us out in her big momma conversion van to look at a few of the listings we'd checked out online.
The first two were in newer subdivisions. The insides were OK--new construction, walk-in closets, small bedrooms, etc. Thanks to their youth, they also had no fences, no backyard grass and one spindly tree out front per city landscaping requirements. Not exactly what we were looking for.
The third house we saw was a musty-smelling repo. Mustard and tomato-colored walls, dark green linoleum tiles throughout (think doctor's office), some missing tile/fixtures in one bathroom, water damage around one of the skylights and a private commode with saloon-style shutter doors. Can't you just picture John Wayne busting through the shutters after an adventurous dump? I can.
Lest I make it sound too icky, it also has a HUGE kitchen with tons of counter and cupboard space (that needs a style makeover), a large living/dining area, a covered porch, a wood privacy fence (one section downed), and some mature trees in back and a hedgerow along the front. Toweringly high ceilings.
Most of the work needed would appear cosmetic. Is a $75,000 price tag worth the elbow grease necessary to make it presentable? The realtor says comps in the area sell in the high 90s to low 100s. So we'd be getting a 25% discount...but having to do a lot of cleanup work.
The fourth house was owner-occupied; she greeted us in Spanish and showed us around the cherubs and light fixtures shaped like flowers, the large laundry room, the yard with landscaping (and a vocal rooster next door), and shiny, shiny dark tile floor. Turns out, it's too big a house for just the owner and she's looking to downsize. (We didn't like the house enough to help out with that).
The last house we saw was out in the boonies. Just shy of an acre lot, dozens of mature trees and citrus (that needed water). Unfortunately, I liked the yard better than the house. Plus it's pretty far from any services/retail. And if this girl is gonna live in Texas, she needs to be closer to Target. ;)
Tomorrow we'll meet Diane the realtor for round two of house hunting, focusing on McAllen rather than Edinburg and looking for houses with mature trees and fenced yards. Stay tuned!
On Location
Posting from Mike's dining room table in McAllen, Texas. "Esposas Desperadas" is playing in the background. I'm sure I could make out more of the dialogue if I were paying closer attention. Cattiness and intrigue transcend language barriers, no?
Mike and I went to Sunstone West on Friday night and Saturday in Claremont, then left for Texas early Sunday morning. Sunstone West was groovy. Interesting sessions--and I didn't have to plan it! The highlight was Friday night's screening of the film "New York Doll," about Arthur "Killer" Kane, a founding member of The New York Dolls who became a Mormon later in life. It's an odd juxtaposition: punk scene meets family history library, but it's fascinating and moving story. I can't get it out of my head. (Go on, put it on your Netflicks list. I'll wait).
Monday we stopped by the bank to liberate my ring from its safety deposit box. (Moment of girlyness: YAY! I've missed it!) Afterward, I dropped Mike off at UTPA for a few hours and I went shopping at Target and the HEB (supermarket).
I popped dinner in the oven and went to pick Mike up. We went shopping for beds for Mike's girls before coming home to eat. Read over real estate listings until after 9 pm, then rushed over to Target.
Had a tiff: Mike returned a colleague's call while I went over to scope out bedding we'd need for the girls. I waited for Mike and even called his cell, but the intercom announced the store was closing in 5 minutes before he appeared--not much time to confer on let alone pick out bedding for two teenage girls.
That left me a bit frustrated, but we talked it out. He readily owns up to his part and apologizes while I do my best to express my displeasure using grown-up words rather than foot stamping or giving him the stink eye.
Mike and I went to Sunstone West on Friday night and Saturday in Claremont, then left for Texas early Sunday morning. Sunstone West was groovy. Interesting sessions--and I didn't have to plan it! The highlight was Friday night's screening of the film "New York Doll," about Arthur "Killer" Kane, a founding member of The New York Dolls who became a Mormon later in life. It's an odd juxtaposition: punk scene meets family history library, but it's fascinating and moving story. I can't get it out of my head. (Go on, put it on your Netflicks list. I'll wait).
Monday we stopped by the bank to liberate my ring from its safety deposit box. (Moment of girlyness: YAY! I've missed it!) Afterward, I dropped Mike off at UTPA for a few hours and I went shopping at Target and the HEB (supermarket).
I popped dinner in the oven and went to pick Mike up. We went shopping for beds for Mike's girls before coming home to eat. Read over real estate listings until after 9 pm, then rushed over to Target.
Had a tiff: Mike returned a colleague's call while I went over to scope out bedding we'd need for the girls. I waited for Mike and even called his cell, but the intercom announced the store was closing in 5 minutes before he appeared--not much time to confer on let alone pick out bedding for two teenage girls.
That left me a bit frustrated, but we talked it out. He readily owns up to his part and apologizes while I do my best to express my displeasure using grown-up words rather than foot stamping or giving him the stink eye.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Whirlwinds with a Chance of Downpour
It's been an insanely busy fortnight.
Last week was all about the Easter program, choir rehearsals and the memorial service along with various mental/physical/hair maintenance appointments sandwiched in.
So far this week, I've been to the vet (PK had the trots), seen dermatologist #3, had a meeting in long-drive-away Irvine, met with a florist, had dinner with friends Bill & Elina, and set up meetings with another photographer. I will have either left work early or have come in late every day this week.
Today, I pick Mike up at the airport, go back to work for a mandatory training class (topic unknown), pick Mike up after work, skip tutoring, eat dinner with my parents, book over to Party City to order the wedding invitations (which HAS to happen this week if we are to send them out on time).
Tomorrow I have to go to take dermatologist #3's Rx to derm #2's office so he can rewrite the Rx so my insurance will cover it. Bless him for being completely willing to do this! After work, Mike and I head to Claremont for Sunstone West Friday night and Saturday. Sunday, we leave for a week+ in Texas to go househunting.
I haven't packed nor prepared my remarks for the Sunstone panel discussion I'm in/moderating. Also before I leave for TX, I'm supposed to get a list of addresses to my maid of honor so she can send out shower invitations.
I either need an umbrella or a posse of personal assistants.
Last week was all about the Easter program, choir rehearsals and the memorial service along with various mental/physical/hair maintenance appointments sandwiched in.
So far this week, I've been to the vet (PK had the trots), seen dermatologist #3, had a meeting in long-drive-away Irvine, met with a florist, had dinner with friends Bill & Elina, and set up meetings with another photographer. I will have either left work early or have come in late every day this week.
Today, I pick Mike up at the airport, go back to work for a mandatory training class (topic unknown), pick Mike up after work, skip tutoring, eat dinner with my parents, book over to Party City to order the wedding invitations (which HAS to happen this week if we are to send them out on time).
Tomorrow I have to go to take dermatologist #3's Rx to derm #2's office so he can rewrite the Rx so my insurance will cover it. Bless him for being completely willing to do this! After work, Mike and I head to Claremont for Sunstone West Friday night and Saturday. Sunday, we leave for a week+ in Texas to go househunting.
I haven't packed nor prepared my remarks for the Sunstone panel discussion I'm in/moderating. Also before I leave for TX, I'm supposed to get a list of addresses to my maid of honor so she can send out shower invitations.
I either need an umbrella or a posse of personal assistants.
Monday, April 17, 2006
A Chicks Rule Easter
Our Easter program rocked, with amazing music and an all-women lineup of speakers.
Allison asked Izzy to give a short talk. She's one of my favorite kids in the ward and she did a spectacular job. Very poised and articulate young woman.
My talk went well. I talked about the unnamed/less known women in the Easter story as well as the better-known women mentioned in the different gospels. I specifically mentioned the woman who anointed Jesus' head (from Matthew) and that women were present during all the major events in Christ's life and ministry. Even threw in an allusion to The daVinci Code.
I also talked about grief--using the pain Mary must have felt as a lead-in. What it's like to lose a child. What it's like to say goodbye to a loved one. I mentioned DeWitt's memorial service last week.
Quoted Isaiah calling the Savior a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. I asked, did Jesus have griefs and sorrows of his own? I think he must have; the human experience is rife with loss and disappointment and grief as well as joy, love and achievement. I was pleased with how it came together. I may post my remarks here if I can figure out how.
Then Janet A. spoke. Hereremarks tied in art history, the experience of pregnancy and motherhood, the women of Easter and the relationship between Mary and Jesus. She's a powerhouse and I'm not doing her remarks justice in the retelling.
It was an amazing service--and a refreshing change to have all women speakers and the focus on women's experiences.
It was my last hurrah with the choir and possibly the last time I'll speak in Pasadena ward before I move. I didn't cry until after it was all over, but my remarks got some of the choir members teary before was sang "Pieta" (which I was glad we sang after I spoke otherwise I would have been a blubbering mess).
Then mom, dad, John and his girlfriend went to brunch at the Caltech Athenaeum. Afterward, mom said "It's like an old, elegant club." I pointed out it IS an old, elegant club. :) It's another thing I'll miss; I've enjoyed holiday brunches and having a fancy place for special occasion dinners.
Allison asked Izzy to give a short talk. She's one of my favorite kids in the ward and she did a spectacular job. Very poised and articulate young woman.
My talk went well. I talked about the unnamed/less known women in the Easter story as well as the better-known women mentioned in the different gospels. I specifically mentioned the woman who anointed Jesus' head (from Matthew) and that women were present during all the major events in Christ's life and ministry. Even threw in an allusion to The daVinci Code.
I also talked about grief--using the pain Mary must have felt as a lead-in. What it's like to lose a child. What it's like to say goodbye to a loved one. I mentioned DeWitt's memorial service last week.
Quoted Isaiah calling the Savior a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. I asked, did Jesus have griefs and sorrows of his own? I think he must have; the human experience is rife with loss and disappointment and grief as well as joy, love and achievement. I was pleased with how it came together. I may post my remarks here if I can figure out how.
Then Janet A. spoke. Hereremarks tied in art history, the experience of pregnancy and motherhood, the women of Easter and the relationship between Mary and Jesus. She's a powerhouse and I'm not doing her remarks justice in the retelling.
It was an amazing service--and a refreshing change to have all women speakers and the focus on women's experiences.
It was my last hurrah with the choir and possibly the last time I'll speak in Pasadena ward before I move. I didn't cry until after it was all over, but my remarks got some of the choir members teary before was sang "Pieta" (which I was glad we sang after I spoke otherwise I would have been a blubbering mess).
Then mom, dad, John and his girlfriend went to brunch at the Caltech Athenaeum. Afterward, mom said "It's like an old, elegant club." I pointed out it IS an old, elegant club. :) It's another thing I'll miss; I've enjoyed holiday brunches and having a fancy place for special occasion dinners.
Week in Review
Highlights from the past week:
--Attending DeWitt Beal's memorial service. I knew him mainly through his wife, Elina. The service introduced me to many aspects of his life and interests I wasn't aware of; made me wish I'd known him better--and grateful to have known him even a little bit. Five of his poems were read during the service; they were amazing meditations on his children, his wife, and when things turn out differently than you expect. It truly was a life celebration with more laughter and joy than tears. Top notch.
--Having dinner with friends after the service--three classmates from the 2-year certification course we took together, our teachers, and a classmate's spouse. Was great to catch up with everyone.
--Having the Easter talk come together over the course of the week and not staying up past midnight to do it. It must have been important if I didn't procrastinate. ;)
--Meeting with the first photographer and florist Saturday. Touching base with the caterer and making some headway with the wedding plans.
--John reporting that "Gardening Ain't For Pansies" was the title chosen for his seminar for senior citizens. His co-workers did enjoy "Soil Yourself" enough to have it be in the running.
--Had a NAP Sunday after brunch--bliss! Until the neighbor revved up the leaf blower a couple hours later.
--Getting closer to being on the same page with Mike after an arduous conversation about wedding plans.
--Hearing from women in the ward that it's not possible to stay sane while planning a wedding; it's better to cry in short bursts than long jags; that it's better to meltdown a few days before the wedding than on the day of; that during wedding planning was the only time one friend had ever in her life hung up on her mother.
--Finding a new definition of the word tedious: watching the movie, "Benji."
I remember watching it in the 70s, but as an adult, I kept wondering "Why did I like this movie?" Endless shots of Benji running from place to place. Soft focus and gloopy music when Benji spots his canine girlfriend, Tiffany, rooting through the trash. It was fun saying "Oh, look, he gave her his bone" and "She's his bitch".
We channel surfed in the middle, but came back in time to see Benji steal the rough draft of the ransom note and take it back to the FBI agents at the house! Benji ran in slow motion for what seemed like hours with flashback shots of the kidnapped children and the mean kidnapper kicking Tiffany. It was like an accident you can't help looking at and wondering how it happened. See also: cloying, melodramatic, manipulative, maudlin and cliche.
Friday, April 14, 2006
Arguments: The Spawn of Wedding Planning
Last night, Mike and I went a few rounds over the wedding with me lecturing him (needlessly) on sticking to the wedding budget and him calling me an inflexible Nazi.
I thought he meant that the grand total would go up with the extras we wanted to add. He meant keep the same grand total, but shift money around within the budget to areas where we need more coverage. Blew right past each other.
Of course, that all seems funnier today than it did last night. And funnier still after seeing this cartoon on a budget wedding web page.
We've trimmed the guest list, which will shave a lot off the catering and some off the rentals, decorations and invitations. Will this save enough to cover other expenses, like attire for the grooms people? (It would help to know whether my brother is in or out of the wedding party; are we talking pants/shirts/ties for 3 people or 2?)
Plus I'm getting stressed as each day ticks by and there's not much progress on priority items like the photographer. I had hoped to nail that down before I'm out of town for almost two weeks.
And yes, mom and I are still going the rounds on pink vs. coral.
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Is it coral or pink?
That is the question.
The first bridesmaid's dress arrived and I saw it in person last night. Nice coral silk bias cut dress with an overlay with a lighter floral print. Thank you, Coldwater Creek for making it easier to outfit three women with different tastes, complexions, and bodies in a dress that they might possibly wear again. Really.
Now, the flowery pattern on the dress (to me) looks more pink than coral. Mom disagrees. Said she hung up the dress in the daylight and put her pink jacket next to it and it doesn't look pink to her. We've certainly argued over less than this.
Given the indeterminate color, I'll have to haul the dress around with me to find coordinating accessories for the grooms people. Mom is advocating navy blue blazers for the grooms people. I keep vetoing. Coordinating shirts and ties, maybe with some Irish linen trousers. This is as matchy-matchy as I want to get.
The first bridesmaid's dress arrived and I saw it in person last night. Nice coral silk bias cut dress with an overlay with a lighter floral print. Thank you, Coldwater Creek for making it easier to outfit three women with different tastes, complexions, and bodies in a dress that they might possibly wear again. Really.
Now, the flowery pattern on the dress (to me) looks more pink than coral. Mom disagrees. Said she hung up the dress in the daylight and put her pink jacket next to it and it doesn't look pink to her. We've certainly argued over less than this.
Given the indeterminate color, I'll have to haul the dress around with me to find coordinating accessories for the grooms people. Mom is advocating navy blue blazers for the grooms people. I keep vetoing. Coordinating shirts and ties, maybe with some Irish linen trousers. This is as matchy-matchy as I want to get.
Monday, April 10, 2006
Nasal douching and other weekend pursuits
Last week's sinus infection is thankfully on the wane. I decided to help its demise by rinsing out my sinuses using the technique my friend Holly described on her blog. I can't for the life of me link to it, but check selfportraitas for the entry dated December 4, 2005.
I used a water bottle with one of those sports/drinking nozzles on it which helped minimize spillage. I learned not to power squirt saline into my sinuses using the nozzle. Yes, it's gross and yes, it's like a sinus miracle it works so well.
One ENT who's treated everyone in my family said there's not a decent sinus among us. He was also a big advocate of nasal douching, but rarely did I feel awful enough to try it. Now I'm a freakin' evangelist.
I had a pleasant visit with my brother Sunday morning. He'd dropped by the ancestral home to do laundry. I opted to hang out with him rather than skedaddle myself to church. (Though I did show up at noon for choir practice).
John launched into an anti-marriage tirade when I asked if he'd thought any more about being in the wedding party. The company he works for is being sold, so he's in limbo/job hunting and saying he doesn't know where he'll be in July. Is that a no, Mr. Beat Around The Bush?
Another weekend activity: Mom and I brainstormed to help John come up with a catchy title for a gardening seminar for seniors he's teaching. My contributions are as follows:
I used a water bottle with one of those sports/drinking nozzles on it which helped minimize spillage. I learned not to power squirt saline into my sinuses using the nozzle. Yes, it's gross and yes, it's like a sinus miracle it works so well.
One ENT who's treated everyone in my family said there's not a decent sinus among us. He was also a big advocate of nasal douching, but rarely did I feel awful enough to try it. Now I'm a freakin' evangelist.
I had a pleasant visit with my brother Sunday morning. He'd dropped by the ancestral home to do laundry. I opted to hang out with him rather than skedaddle myself to church. (Though I did show up at noon for choir practice).
John launched into an anti-marriage tirade when I asked if he'd thought any more about being in the wedding party. The company he works for is being sold, so he's in limbo/job hunting and saying he doesn't know where he'll be in July. Is that a no, Mr. Beat Around The Bush?
Another weekend activity: Mom and I brainstormed to help John come up with a catchy title for a gardening seminar for seniors he's teaching. My contributions are as follows:
- Push Up Your Own Daisies
- Hoe, Hoe, Hoe Your Plot
- Gardening: Not for Pansies
- Get Into Your Bloomers
- If You Can't Arboretum, Join 'Em
- I'd Like to Buy a Trowel
- Dirt 101
And, my personal favorite: Soil Yourself.
John said he'd pitch that one as a joke. No telling which he'll use.Friday, April 07, 2006
The TGIF Stopwatch
I stood in line to go through the metal detectors at the Alhambra courthouse. Thirty minutes.
I stood in line to check in for jury duty. Ninety minutes.
I overheard obnoxious lawyer dude call everyone to tell them he'd been called in for jury duty (amid eye rolling and outright mocking from everyone near him in line). Ninety weeks, er minutes.
I requested a postponement to attend DeWitt's funeral next Monday. Postponement until June granted. Three minutes.
I call the office to say I'll be in today after all; I just need to swing by home and pick up my badge. Supervisor says we can't do anything about yesterday's overrun except wait for the money to come in. Five minutes.
Lunch/Internet goof-offing. Seventy five minutes and counting.
Amount of time left before I can go home and crawl back into bed where I rightfully belong: two hours, fifteen minutes.
I stood in line to check in for jury duty. Ninety minutes.
I overheard obnoxious lawyer dude call everyone to tell them he'd been called in for jury duty (amid eye rolling and outright mocking from everyone near him in line). Ninety weeks, er minutes.
I requested a postponement to attend DeWitt's funeral next Monday. Postponement until June granted. Three minutes.
I call the office to say I'll be in today after all; I just need to swing by home and pick up my badge. Supervisor says we can't do anything about yesterday's overrun except wait for the money to come in. Five minutes.
Lunch/Internet goof-offing. Seventy five minutes and counting.
Amount of time left before I can go home and crawl back into bed where I rightfully belong: two hours, fifteen minutes.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Introductions
Fan, meet crap. Crap, meet fan. Consider yourselves introduced.
I've been on call for jury duty all week. So far, they haven't needed me. I hope that's true tomorrow, too. Then I'd be done.
I stayed home sick Wednesday with a sinus infection. Took 6 phone calls to get a prescription. Used the last of my sick time. No choice but to come to work today, no matter how shitty I feel.
Also received news that a friend's husband lost his fight with cancer. Services Monday afternoon. News turns my annoyances minor. Feeling badly about not keeping in closer touch with E during the past few months, which I'm sure have been hard.
Do mindless but necessary tasks all morning. Eat tasteless lunch (sense of smell kaput).
Get call from manager. Did I know that one of my tasks is overrun by $106K? No. (Expletive, expletive, expletive!) Overrunning is a HUGE no no. Since this has not happened to me before, I don't know what to do. Manager says call the resource administrator and have her de-encumber the money.
I call. RA says "I don't think we can do that. Call the task manager."
I call TM. "Yeah, we had a change order come through last week. We're expecting $150K any day now. Can't we leave it alone until the money shows up?" Um, NO! Doesn't want to run change order through legal again if avoidable.
Apparently, subcontracts put it through without checking available funds (also a HUGE no no). TM is now checking with acquisitions/subcontracts to see if they will de-encumber some money until the PR we're expecting ACTUALLY comes in.
Meanwhile, I'm freaking out. Already not feeling well (physically and emotionally; I can get surly when I'm sick) and the overrun news didn't exactly help.
All I want to do is go home and take to my bed. Nevermind the Easter program I still need to work on or the follow-up I need to do with wedding vendors.
I will, however, finish the half-written condolence letter to E before I do anything else. DeWitt isn't suffering, but I suspect his adoring wife, E, is. A desk job crisis ain't much compared to that.
I've been on call for jury duty all week. So far, they haven't needed me. I hope that's true tomorrow, too. Then I'd be done.
I stayed home sick Wednesday with a sinus infection. Took 6 phone calls to get a prescription. Used the last of my sick time. No choice but to come to work today, no matter how shitty I feel.
Also received news that a friend's husband lost his fight with cancer. Services Monday afternoon. News turns my annoyances minor. Feeling badly about not keeping in closer touch with E during the past few months, which I'm sure have been hard.
Do mindless but necessary tasks all morning. Eat tasteless lunch (sense of smell kaput).
Get call from manager. Did I know that one of my tasks is overrun by $106K? No. (Expletive, expletive, expletive!) Overrunning is a HUGE no no. Since this has not happened to me before, I don't know what to do. Manager says call the resource administrator and have her de-encumber the money.
I call. RA says "I don't think we can do that. Call the task manager."
I call TM. "Yeah, we had a change order come through last week. We're expecting $150K any day now. Can't we leave it alone until the money shows up?" Um, NO! Doesn't want to run change order through legal again if avoidable.
Apparently, subcontracts put it through without checking available funds (also a HUGE no no). TM is now checking with acquisitions/subcontracts to see if they will de-encumber some money until the PR we're expecting ACTUALLY comes in.
Meanwhile, I'm freaking out. Already not feeling well (physically and emotionally; I can get surly when I'm sick) and the overrun news didn't exactly help.
All I want to do is go home and take to my bed. Nevermind the Easter program I still need to work on or the follow-up I need to do with wedding vendors.
I will, however, finish the half-written condolence letter to E before I do anything else. DeWitt isn't suffering, but I suspect his adoring wife, E, is. A desk job crisis ain't much compared to that.
Monday, April 03, 2006
Initial Reaction
Probably should have titled this General Conference, Part 2, because I'm just not done with it yet.
The LDS church's General conferences happen in April and October. Various church leaders speak (mostly men with a token woman to give the proceedings a faint whiff of inclusivity). The Mormon Tabernacle Choir performs. Church members get stories, instruction and directives to ponder until the next conference.
Mormons with cable access watch the proceedings from home in their jammies. Tech-savvy folks stream or download conference from the Internet. Those without cable, computers or who want to see the priesthood session Saturday night (which isn't on cable) have to schelp to their local church building to watch the satellite feed. This is what we all used to do, back in the day.
I'm not a regular general conference watcher. It's part disinterest, part self-preservation and part general annoyance.
The lilting speech patterns specific to the Salt Lake East Bench are like fingernails on chalkboard for me. Even though one of my English professors insisted the guy with the worst cadence had done some speech therapy work, it wasn't enough for me to get past his delivery.
Another thing that annoys me: the reverential tones used to utter not only the names but also the initials in church authorities' names: Gordon Beeeeeee Hinckley. Boyd Kaaaaaay Packer. Thomas Essssssssss Monson. Took me years to figure out it was David O. McKay, not David O'Mckay. Only new converts who don't know better or disaffected/former church members dare leave out the initial!
But it's not just the old guard turning their initials into part of their title. The younguns are doing it, too. Jeff Holland, former president of BYU (in whose official space I once parked) has morphed into Jeffrey R. Holland. Maybe he always was Jeffrey R., but it seems to me the R. was more aggressively attached after he became a general authority. Or Spencer Condie, my former sociology professor. He's now marketed as Spencer J. (JAY) Condie.
I've seen lesser ranked church leaders do the initial thing, too. I wonder if they feel they MUST use an initial-as-name to be considered upwardly mobile?
If you don't like or use your middle name, why use its initial? I always want to know what hideous name is hiding behind that enigmatic initial.
Recently, the initials-as-substitutional-names makes me think of Eminem. What if all these weirdly monikered old guys rapped their conference talks? Now that I'd tune in for.
The LDS church's General conferences happen in April and October. Various church leaders speak (mostly men with a token woman to give the proceedings a faint whiff of inclusivity). The Mormon Tabernacle Choir performs. Church members get stories, instruction and directives to ponder until the next conference.
Mormons with cable access watch the proceedings from home in their jammies. Tech-savvy folks stream or download conference from the Internet. Those without cable, computers or who want to see the priesthood session Saturday night (which isn't on cable) have to schelp to their local church building to watch the satellite feed. This is what we all used to do, back in the day.
I'm not a regular general conference watcher. It's part disinterest, part self-preservation and part general annoyance.
The lilting speech patterns specific to the Salt Lake East Bench are like fingernails on chalkboard for me. Even though one of my English professors insisted the guy with the worst cadence had done some speech therapy work, it wasn't enough for me to get past his delivery.
Another thing that annoys me: the reverential tones used to utter not only the names but also the initials in church authorities' names: Gordon Beeeeeee Hinckley. Boyd Kaaaaaay Packer. Thomas Essssssssss Monson. Took me years to figure out it was David O. McKay, not David O'Mckay. Only new converts who don't know better or disaffected/former church members dare leave out the initial!
But it's not just the old guard turning their initials into part of their title. The younguns are doing it, too. Jeff Holland, former president of BYU (in whose official space I once parked) has morphed into Jeffrey R. Holland. Maybe he always was Jeffrey R., but it seems to me the R. was more aggressively attached after he became a general authority. Or Spencer Condie, my former sociology professor. He's now marketed as Spencer J. (JAY) Condie.
I've seen lesser ranked church leaders do the initial thing, too. I wonder if they feel they MUST use an initial-as-name to be considered upwardly mobile?
If you don't like or use your middle name, why use its initial? I always want to know what hideous name is hiding behind that enigmatic initial.
Recently, the initials-as-substitutional-names makes me think of Eminem. What if all these weirdly monikered old guys rapped their conference talks? Now that I'd tune in for.
Trapped by the Mormons
General Conference was this weekend. I typically avoid broadcasts and print media emanating from SLC because I'm happier that way. However, living with mom and dad and having cable TV made conference inescapable.
I avoided Saturday sessions altogether, thanks to sleeping in and a well-timed shopping trip with the matron of honor. Sunday, I dragged out of bed in time to see the last hour of the first session and the last 30 minutes of the second.
I'm having trouble adjusting to the new conference center. I much prefer the ambiance of the Tabernacle. Now there's greenery behind the podium. Nice ferns and such, but it makes the speakers look like they're on location at OSH's garden center.
I also don't care for the graphics that seem to accompany most talks. Just because you have the technology to show us pictures of flowers poking through the snow, a champion jumping horse named Snowman or a shot of Earth ripped off from the Big Blue Marble, doesn't mean you should use it. What's the value added?
I see the logic in putting long block quotes onto the screen that we'd otherwise doze through, but the rest seems like overkill. Plus the renderings of people--especially Jesus--were just BAD.
Did anyone else see the pic used in the last talk Sunday morning--with the Chuck Norris Jesus emerging from the tomb? I couldn't resist commenting on the resemblance aloud, which cracked up my parents. Yeah, I bet there's a six-shooter under that robe. Someone in Correlation is slacking.
I avoided Saturday sessions altogether, thanks to sleeping in and a well-timed shopping trip with the matron of honor. Sunday, I dragged out of bed in time to see the last hour of the first session and the last 30 minutes of the second.
I'm having trouble adjusting to the new conference center. I much prefer the ambiance of the Tabernacle. Now there's greenery behind the podium. Nice ferns and such, but it makes the speakers look like they're on location at OSH's garden center.
I also don't care for the graphics that seem to accompany most talks. Just because you have the technology to show us pictures of flowers poking through the snow, a champion jumping horse named Snowman or a shot of Earth ripped off from the Big Blue Marble, doesn't mean you should use it. What's the value added?
I see the logic in putting long block quotes onto the screen that we'd otherwise doze through, but the rest seems like overkill. Plus the renderings of people--especially Jesus--were just BAD.
Did anyone else see the pic used in the last talk Sunday morning--with the Chuck Norris Jesus emerging from the tomb? I couldn't resist commenting on the resemblance aloud, which cracked up my parents. Yeah, I bet there's a six-shooter under that robe. Someone in Correlation is slacking.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Is it me?
Two events this week have me wondering about myself.
Work sitch: Our programmer needs the scanner's owner manual its scanning software discs. Can't find them in my boss's old office, so we look in Camilla's office. That was the last place I saw the gear after our tech installed everything, so it made sense to look there. No luck.
We go upstairs to ask Camilla if she knows where the manuals and discs are. She has not a clue. We troop downstairs to look again--though C doesn't look in her office. She looks in my old office, even though the new equipment never lived there. Again, I'm just looking where I last remember seeing the stuff. I have no idea what happened to it after she took over scanner duty.
My first assumption (based on my observation of C's work habits and attitude) is that she got rid of the manuals and software boxes not knowing what they were. She's not the type to ask questions before taking headstrong and uninformed action.
Later, when I grabbed the dictionary to look up the word "fey," I saw some discs and a box of scanning software in my cabinet. It might be what the programmer is looking for, but I'm not sure. Now I'm feeling sheepish and contrite about pinning the missing goods on Camilla--even though carelessness and sloth are accurate descriptors of her M.O.
Volunteer sitch: An organization I volunteer with has committed to a fundraising effort I would call dubious. It was undertaken without informing the board of directors and it's iffy whether the project will generate any revenue. This got me hopping mad. We need to fundraise for our own needs, not pass the hat on behalf of someone else's project, regardless of its merits.
Also frustrating: the organization fails to implement process improvements that would better utilize our limited/existing resources and improve attendance at events (which would increase revenue). Yet we're involved in a fundraising venture that leaves us hoping for a slice of a pie that's not even baked yet. This makes no sense to me.
Work sitch: Our programmer needs the scanner's owner manual its scanning software discs. Can't find them in my boss's old office, so we look in Camilla's office. That was the last place I saw the gear after our tech installed everything, so it made sense to look there. No luck.
We go upstairs to ask Camilla if she knows where the manuals and discs are. She has not a clue. We troop downstairs to look again--though C doesn't look in her office. She looks in my old office, even though the new equipment never lived there. Again, I'm just looking where I last remember seeing the stuff. I have no idea what happened to it after she took over scanner duty.
My first assumption (based on my observation of C's work habits and attitude) is that she got rid of the manuals and software boxes not knowing what they were. She's not the type to ask questions before taking headstrong and uninformed action.
Later, when I grabbed the dictionary to look up the word "fey," I saw some discs and a box of scanning software in my cabinet. It might be what the programmer is looking for, but I'm not sure. Now I'm feeling sheepish and contrite about pinning the missing goods on Camilla--even though carelessness and sloth are accurate descriptors of her M.O.
Volunteer sitch: An organization I volunteer with has committed to a fundraising effort I would call dubious. It was undertaken without informing the board of directors and it's iffy whether the project will generate any revenue. This got me hopping mad. We need to fundraise for our own needs, not pass the hat on behalf of someone else's project, regardless of its merits.
Also frustrating: the organization fails to implement process improvements that would better utilize our limited/existing resources and improve attendance at events (which would increase revenue). Yet we're involved in a fundraising venture that leaves us hoping for a slice of a pie that's not even baked yet. This makes no sense to me.
When I bitched about this--at length--last night to Mike, he asked whether my fiery approach was likely to result in a constructive dialogue. I had to admit that asking "Are you sure there weren't any hallucinogens involved?" would likely make the other parties defensive and preclude discussion.
But that doesn't stop me from being mad or wanting to grab someone by the lapels and holler "What made you think this was a good idea?" I DO get all impassioned with the things I care about.
But here's the part that got me thinking about me: How lickety-split fast do I attribute malice, ignorance, sloth and/or stupidity to the other party? Is this a good idea?
Am I so quick to judgment that I miss the software box in my own cupboard? Or miss the idea that people trying to raise funds (even with dubious methods) weren't also trying a creative way to promote the fiscal health of the organization?
I asked Mike whether my delivery always sucks, or if my counterproductive means of expression is specific to just this volunteer gig. He said, no, he doesn't think my delivery always sucks. I believe him, but I'm still wondering whether my delivery/approach is more of a problem than I want to admit.
Chrysalis Transportation
Last night, a brand new, shiny school bus pulled up beside me. I couldn't help but notice the newfangled side view mirrors.
If you've not seen one, the mirrors are attached to thick black appendages that jut out and down from the roof of the bus on both sides. (Sorry, couldn't find one in Google images). They look for all the world like antennae, and from there it's not hard to imagine the bus as a giant yellow caterpillar on wheels.
What if a whole parking lot of them turned into butterflies?
If you've not seen one, the mirrors are attached to thick black appendages that jut out and down from the roof of the bus on both sides. (Sorry, couldn't find one in Google images). They look for all the world like antennae, and from there it's not hard to imagine the bus as a giant yellow caterpillar on wheels.
What if a whole parking lot of them turned into butterflies?
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Intersection irritation
Moving back to mom and dad's house messed with my commute.
It's longer by about 15 minutes, which means I have to get out of bed earlier. That's never good.
There's a railroad crossing about a mile north of our house. Trains sometimes come to a dead stop on the tracks--like last night--and block all north/south travel. Everyone scrambles east or west which clogs the nearby surface streets. Rather waiting for the train to get its choo out of the way, I took a detour to KFC and picked up dinner.
I also pass two more schools on the way to work. Every day there's a new San Marino High School student darting in front of my car, ambitious to be my hood ornament.
Those items I navigate with varying degrees of finesse or frustration, depending on how late I'm running. But what I find most vexing are the stealth left turners at the intersection of Winston Street and Huntington Drive.
It takes a while to cross six lanes of Huntington drive at the Winston intersection. Winston has two lanes. You can turn left or go straight from the left lane and go straight or turn right from the right lane.
I generally avoid the left lane if I see left turners signaling their intent. But sometimes I'll pull into the left lane if there's one car ahead of me that's not signaling to make a turn. However, as soon as the signal turns green, BAM. The driver flips on the left turn signal. Now everyone behind that car is trapped until the stealth left turner turns left or until the right lane clears to go around the sly lefty.
I don't get the last-minute signaling. There doesn't seem to be any "cost" to the driver in front to have the turn signal on the whole time we sit waiting for a green light. The failure to signal does cost all drivers behind the stealth lefty. What's that about? The driver who inconveniences the most other drivers with a surprise turn signal wins?
Maybe I should be glad these boneheads signal at all--and make a habit of choosing the right lane.
It's longer by about 15 minutes, which means I have to get out of bed earlier. That's never good.
There's a railroad crossing about a mile north of our house. Trains sometimes come to a dead stop on the tracks--like last night--and block all north/south travel. Everyone scrambles east or west which clogs the nearby surface streets. Rather waiting for the train to get its choo out of the way, I took a detour to KFC and picked up dinner.
I also pass two more schools on the way to work. Every day there's a new San Marino High School student darting in front of my car, ambitious to be my hood ornament.
Those items I navigate with varying degrees of finesse or frustration, depending on how late I'm running. But what I find most vexing are the stealth left turners at the intersection of Winston Street and Huntington Drive.
It takes a while to cross six lanes of Huntington drive at the Winston intersection. Winston has two lanes. You can turn left or go straight from the left lane and go straight or turn right from the right lane.
I generally avoid the left lane if I see left turners signaling their intent. But sometimes I'll pull into the left lane if there's one car ahead of me that's not signaling to make a turn. However, as soon as the signal turns green, BAM. The driver flips on the left turn signal. Now everyone behind that car is trapped until the stealth left turner turns left or until the right lane clears to go around the sly lefty.
I don't get the last-minute signaling. There doesn't seem to be any "cost" to the driver in front to have the turn signal on the whole time we sit waiting for a green light. The failure to signal does cost all drivers behind the stealth lefty. What's that about? The driver who inconveniences the most other drivers with a surprise turn signal wins?
Maybe I should be glad these boneheads signal at all--and make a habit of choosing the right lane.
Monday, March 27, 2006
Playing telephone at church
Our choir director, Allison, asked for our input for the Christmas program--holiday memories, traditions, etc.--to use as narration between songs. I was kinda hoping to read my own submission (since I can make my own words funnier than someone else) but she already had a narrator picked out. I didn't want to mess with her vision, but I did ask for a part in the Easter program since it will be my last hurrah with our magnificent ward choir.
Yesterday, Allison flagged me down after sacrament meeting to talk about the Easter program I had wanted to write. Huh? My wanting a speaking part in the program turned into me writing the entire Easter program?! Holy Shakespeare in Love!
The bishopric is breathing down Allison's neck for details. Understandable when Easter Sunday is three weeks away. My options: I can write the whole thing, I can be one of two speakers or the bishopric can ask new/other people to speak.
I asked to think about this during choir rehearsal. Still trying to figure out how the wires got SO crossed--and that this is the first I'm hearing about my substantial role.
Fortunately, I am not without resources.
A friend put together an Easter program several years ago that focused on the women present at the crucifixion and resurrection. I like the focus, since it's not typical of what we hear on Easter. She also presented it at Sunstone West when it fell on Easter weekend. Maybe I shouldn't mention that until after the program...
My copy of the script is somewhere in storage, so I called Laura last night to ask for a copy. She happily obliged and I am grateful to have the option of NOT starting from scratch if I am putting the program together!
Still, HOW did this land in my lap?
Yesterday, Allison flagged me down after sacrament meeting to talk about the Easter program I had wanted to write. Huh? My wanting a speaking part in the program turned into me writing the entire Easter program?! Holy Shakespeare in Love!
The bishopric is breathing down Allison's neck for details. Understandable when Easter Sunday is three weeks away. My options: I can write the whole thing, I can be one of two speakers or the bishopric can ask new/other people to speak.
I asked to think about this during choir rehearsal. Still trying to figure out how the wires got SO crossed--and that this is the first I'm hearing about my substantial role.
Fortunately, I am not without resources.
A friend put together an Easter program several years ago that focused on the women present at the crucifixion and resurrection. I like the focus, since it's not typical of what we hear on Easter. She also presented it at Sunstone West when it fell on Easter weekend. Maybe I shouldn't mention that until after the program...
My copy of the script is somewhere in storage, so I called Laura last night to ask for a copy. She happily obliged and I am grateful to have the option of NOT starting from scratch if I am putting the program together!
Still, HOW did this land in my lap?
Party recap
I love it when a party goes well, don't you? Mom and dad's Golden Anniversary party was a blast.
The only hiccup came at the beginning: the previous party was just clearing out of the patio when we arrived at 6:00 pm. We had to wait for them to vacate and reset the tables before we could go in and set up.
Mom and I put together 3 posterboards with artfully arranged/accented memorabilia from their 50 years together--including the wedding announcement in the Logan, Utah paper, photos of mom and dad at 20, 30 and 40 years of marriage, a picture of mom with her grown-up flower girl and photos of their house in Utah and the new garage they built.
We had baby pictures of mom and dad on display and small album of wedding photos as well. They looked great and SO young! (I'm wearing mom's wedding dress for my wedding and it was fun to see how it looked on the original bride). The guests gushed--and it gave the early birds something to do until everyone arrived.
The folks who drove up from Orange County got stuck in traffic, so we waited to order. We gave people a choice of 6 entrees off the regular Claim Jumper menu and distributed sticky notes so everyone could write down their order for the servers. (ME channeling Martha).
During the lull, we had a multiple choice quiz: How much do you know about Ruth and Tom? It contained such tidbits as where they met (church social), the subject of their first disagreement (dad shut all doors in the apartment/mom wanted them open), the subject of their most recent disagreement (which freeway to take home from the eye doctor), and where dad proposed (by a statue of St. Francis [near the incinerator] behind mom's apartment). The prize was a box of Beloved Brittle from Trader Joe's.
Just as we were wrapping up the quiz, the food arrived (excellent timing). Everyone raved about the meal. Conversations were lively up and down the table and we had a little trouble settling everyone down. After everyone had finished eating, we had a 50th wedding anniversary commemorative plate that we passed around and had everyone sign.
During dessert (Claim Jumper's luscious carrot cake), mom and dad both stood up and said a few words of thanks for each other, their lives together, and for the friends and family who attended the celebration. After that, folks started to say their goodbyes. We schlepped the posters and gifts to the car and went home pleased with how well it all turned out.
The notoriously late aunt & uncle were no-shows. Unless they showed up after we left at 11:00 pm, which has happened before.
The only hiccup came at the beginning: the previous party was just clearing out of the patio when we arrived at 6:00 pm. We had to wait for them to vacate and reset the tables before we could go in and set up.
Mom and I put together 3 posterboards with artfully arranged/accented memorabilia from their 50 years together--including the wedding announcement in the Logan, Utah paper, photos of mom and dad at 20, 30 and 40 years of marriage, a picture of mom with her grown-up flower girl and photos of their house in Utah and the new garage they built.
We had baby pictures of mom and dad on display and small album of wedding photos as well. They looked great and SO young! (I'm wearing mom's wedding dress for my wedding and it was fun to see how it looked on the original bride). The guests gushed--and it gave the early birds something to do until everyone arrived.
The folks who drove up from Orange County got stuck in traffic, so we waited to order. We gave people a choice of 6 entrees off the regular Claim Jumper menu and distributed sticky notes so everyone could write down their order for the servers. (ME channeling Martha).
During the lull, we had a multiple choice quiz: How much do you know about Ruth and Tom? It contained such tidbits as where they met (church social), the subject of their first disagreement (dad shut all doors in the apartment/mom wanted them open), the subject of their most recent disagreement (which freeway to take home from the eye doctor), and where dad proposed (by a statue of St. Francis [near the incinerator] behind mom's apartment). The prize was a box of Beloved Brittle from Trader Joe's.
Just as we were wrapping up the quiz, the food arrived (excellent timing). Everyone raved about the meal. Conversations were lively up and down the table and we had a little trouble settling everyone down. After everyone had finished eating, we had a 50th wedding anniversary commemorative plate that we passed around and had everyone sign.
During dessert (Claim Jumper's luscious carrot cake), mom and dad both stood up and said a few words of thanks for each other, their lives together, and for the friends and family who attended the celebration. After that, folks started to say their goodbyes. We schlepped the posters and gifts to the car and went home pleased with how well it all turned out.
The notoriously late aunt & uncle were no-shows. Unless they showed up after we left at 11:00 pm, which has happened before.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Footsteps I'd like to follow in
In 1976, my grandparents celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary. Twenty-five family members gathered at their house in Logan, Utah, went to The Bluebird Restaurant for dinner, and came home afterward for dessert and a little entertainment.
I was eight. I remember the performance anxiety as I picked out 'Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star" and a harder piece from one of my violin practice books in front of more family members than I'd ever seen in one place before.
I let my mom use dead butterfly I'd found in the under-glass flower arrangement she made to commemorate the occasion. When you're eight, it's a big deal to give up a treasure like that to make someone else happy.
Fast forward to now: my parents are celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary this weekend. We're going out to dinner with friends and family. There will be no knock-kneed violin solos before, during or after.
We'll have to do a seating chart so members of the ward who dislike each other aren't seated together or next to the Robertson relatives who drink. Although, it would be interesting to see how the uptightest church folks would handle sitting next to "Uncle Scotch," perhaps this is not the right occasion for a social experiment.
Since I'm getting married this year to a lovely man who is totally worth the wait (I'm trying to bait him into leaving a comment), I can't help but look at the example of my forebears and aspire to a golden wedding anniversary of our own in 2056.
I was eight. I remember the performance anxiety as I picked out 'Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star" and a harder piece from one of my violin practice books in front of more family members than I'd ever seen in one place before.
I let my mom use dead butterfly I'd found in the under-glass flower arrangement she made to commemorate the occasion. When you're eight, it's a big deal to give up a treasure like that to make someone else happy.
Fast forward to now: my parents are celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary this weekend. We're going out to dinner with friends and family. There will be no knock-kneed violin solos before, during or after.
We'll have to do a seating chart so members of the ward who dislike each other aren't seated together or next to the Robertson relatives who drink. Although, it would be interesting to see how the uptightest church folks would handle sitting next to "Uncle Scotch," perhaps this is not the right occasion for a social experiment.
Since I'm getting married this year to a lovely man who is totally worth the wait (I'm trying to bait him into leaving a comment), I can't help but look at the example of my forebears and aspire to a golden wedding anniversary of our own in 2056.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Breaking up with a friend
Last spring, a longtime friend and I had a falling out.
She was upset that I had not kept her in the loop regarding my relationship with Mike. When she blew off a "meet Mike" dinner and dodged my attempts to make other plans with her, this seemed to communicate something other than interest.
When I did fill her in, she was upset with the delay and the delivery. She went home that night and slept with her married Egyptian neighbor. A few weeks later, she called to confide in me about this new affair. It wasn't "ideal" but she wanted to enjoy it while it lasted.
I'd been her sounding board during her 3-year slog with a physically and emotionally abusive (and also married) man. Frankly, I wasn't up for Round 2.
I sent her an email, saying I was having a hard time processing her affair. I was concerned about her. If she chose to pursue this relationship, of course I would still be her friend. However, I set a boundary: I asked that she not discuss her affair with me.
She responded with a torrent of criticism, taking aim at every tender dream and weaponizing every confidence I'd shared with her. Ouch.
During the 9 months of silence that followed, I sent cards, Christmas and birthday gifts, a Valentine. I was determined to live up to what I'd said: I would be her friend regardless.
Two weeks ago, she emailed to thank me for the Valentine and said she'd like to see how I'm doing. Then she took a couple more shots at my integrity and behavior and criticized me for the gift I'd sent for her birthday.
When I acknowledged her anger and asked if she wanted to talk about it, she again responded with vitriol. Criticized me, my relationship with Mike (whom she's never met), called me too much of a coward to deal with her in person and says it makes her sick that she ever thought I was a friend.
Gee, are you sure you're not holding anything back?
I value my women friends. I know how rare and precious a good friend can be. It always pains me to part ways with friends, even when we outgrow each other and "breaking up" is to our mutual benefit.
I wanted to open the door for dialogue with her. I'd hoped we could patch things up before I move to Texas, but her last email was one shit sandwich too many for me.
While I yearn to correct her accusations and misconceptions or respond in kind (and boy, could I!), a quieter, wiser part of me is saying this is my cue to say goodbye.
She was upset that I had not kept her in the loop regarding my relationship with Mike. When she blew off a "meet Mike" dinner and dodged my attempts to make other plans with her, this seemed to communicate something other than interest.
When I did fill her in, she was upset with the delay and the delivery. She went home that night and slept with her married Egyptian neighbor. A few weeks later, she called to confide in me about this new affair. It wasn't "ideal" but she wanted to enjoy it while it lasted.
I'd been her sounding board during her 3-year slog with a physically and emotionally abusive (and also married) man. Frankly, I wasn't up for Round 2.
I sent her an email, saying I was having a hard time processing her affair. I was concerned about her. If she chose to pursue this relationship, of course I would still be her friend. However, I set a boundary: I asked that she not discuss her affair with me.
She responded with a torrent of criticism, taking aim at every tender dream and weaponizing every confidence I'd shared with her. Ouch.
During the 9 months of silence that followed, I sent cards, Christmas and birthday gifts, a Valentine. I was determined to live up to what I'd said: I would be her friend regardless.
Two weeks ago, she emailed to thank me for the Valentine and said she'd like to see how I'm doing. Then she took a couple more shots at my integrity and behavior and criticized me for the gift I'd sent for her birthday.
When I acknowledged her anger and asked if she wanted to talk about it, she again responded with vitriol. Criticized me, my relationship with Mike (whom she's never met), called me too much of a coward to deal with her in person and says it makes her sick that she ever thought I was a friend.
Gee, are you sure you're not holding anything back?
I value my women friends. I know how rare and precious a good friend can be. It always pains me to part ways with friends, even when we outgrow each other and "breaking up" is to our mutual benefit.
I wanted to open the door for dialogue with her. I'd hoped we could patch things up before I move to Texas, but her last email was one shit sandwich too many for me.
While I yearn to correct her accusations and misconceptions or respond in kind (and boy, could I!), a quieter, wiser part of me is saying this is my cue to say goodbye.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
Thar she blows!
The ex has had a Reaction. It was not a positive reaction, nor was it pleasant for Mike to be on the receiving end of it. I'm actually much more comfortable with an angry, negative reaction than no reaction at all.
Mike and I are both in St. Louis for the weekend and he was trying to arrange a get-together with us and the kids now that they're aware of our plans. The two youngest girls were available Saturday night, so he made arrangements to pick them up. Then he asked J to pass the phone to her mom for a minute.
Mike told D that we'd be picking up the girls at 7:00 pm. He mentioned that I was in town and thought it would be a good idea for us to meet each other since we'd all be working together where the kids are involved. (He'd also sent D an email earlier in the week to try to arrange such a meeting and she had not responded).
I have no interest in "that," D snapped. (I didn't even merit a pronoun).
D then blasted Mike for being incredibly self-centered for springing this (his remarriage) on the kids "so soon" after the divorce. He's selfish for forcing it on the kids without any consideration for the impact it has on them.
"You sound pretty upset about this," Mike says. (This tactic is right out of his leadership seminar: invite the person to vent any interfering emotions in order to work constructively toward a solution).
D says, "Yeah, no kidding" and hangs up on him.
It's strange to me that D would be so hostile about the impact Mike's actions supposedly have on the kids. She's the one who filed for divorce. She had the papers served to him at work while they were living under the same roof and didn't breathe a word about it. Didn't that K.O. family life as they knew it?
We picked up the girls as scheduled and headed to the mall for some gift shopping and dinner at Panda Express. The girls rough housed during dinner and alternately laughed at or were embarrassed by their dad's antics and goofy jokes--typical teenagers.
The girls don't seem to share their mother's hostility or negative opinion of me or their father for bringing me into their lives. I know it's a lot for the kids to adjust to, but the fact that they are friendly, polite, and willing to socialize with us voluntarily makes it seem like we've started off on the right foot.
Mike and I are both in St. Louis for the weekend and he was trying to arrange a get-together with us and the kids now that they're aware of our plans. The two youngest girls were available Saturday night, so he made arrangements to pick them up. Then he asked J to pass the phone to her mom for a minute.
Mike told D that we'd be picking up the girls at 7:00 pm. He mentioned that I was in town and thought it would be a good idea for us to meet each other since we'd all be working together where the kids are involved. (He'd also sent D an email earlier in the week to try to arrange such a meeting and she had not responded).
I have no interest in "that," D snapped. (I didn't even merit a pronoun).
D then blasted Mike for being incredibly self-centered for springing this (his remarriage) on the kids "so soon" after the divorce. He's selfish for forcing it on the kids without any consideration for the impact it has on them.
"You sound pretty upset about this," Mike says. (This tactic is right out of his leadership seminar: invite the person to vent any interfering emotions in order to work constructively toward a solution).
D says, "Yeah, no kidding" and hangs up on him.
It's strange to me that D would be so hostile about the impact Mike's actions supposedly have on the kids. She's the one who filed for divorce. She had the papers served to him at work while they were living under the same roof and didn't breathe a word about it. Didn't that K.O. family life as they knew it?
We picked up the girls as scheduled and headed to the mall for some gift shopping and dinner at Panda Express. The girls rough housed during dinner and alternately laughed at or were embarrassed by their dad's antics and goofy jokes--typical teenagers.
The girls don't seem to share their mother's hostility or negative opinion of me or their father for bringing me into their lives. I know it's a lot for the kids to adjust to, but the fact that they are friendly, polite, and willing to socialize with us voluntarily makes it seem like we've started off on the right foot.
Saturday, March 18, 2006
Happy couple, unhappy kitty
Blogger didn't like me using a different computer and I couldn't remember my password, so there were some technical hurdles to overcome in bringing you this update. Here's my first attempt to post a photo. I figured since Mike and I are now "out," I can display photographic proof. Don't we look cute together?
Since my illness precluded travel last weekend and I didn't want to wait to see Mike and the kids until May, I headed to St. Louis this weekend.
I sat in on Mike's weekend seminar, "Leadership Through People Skills," and paid special attention to the section on managing your manager--a useful and strategic aim. (J, this has your work sitch written all over it).
Mom called during the seminar to tell me PK freaked out when the contractor showed up to work on the bathroom. PK happily followed Robert around during other repair jobs, but this time Robert brought a helper whom PK had not yet sniffed out. Apparently, PK got spooked by the new person in the house and went tearing down the hall and ran right between Juan's legs!All the humans thought this was funny. Poor PK.
Mom said he sat by the front door all day the day I left and has been bereft enough to let her pet him. I'm not sure what we'll do with him in April when mom and dad are in Utah and I'm visiting Mike for a week. Take PK with me? If he can't deal with the contractor's helper, how would he deal with going through security or being housed in a carry-on for 5 hours?
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Your thoughts?
I've been thinking a lot about when and how to tell my employer that I'm quitting.
Employer doesn't know about the engagement currently underway let alone the wedding date/relocation plans. Given the way Emp has handled recent layoffs, I don't want to spill the beans too early. Being unemployed would give me more time to plan the wedding, but I kinda need the income to do the wedding.
I'd like to leave on good terms with the Emp. A former co-worker gave 2 weeks' notice for a departure she'd quietly planned for months and it left a bad taste. I don't want to do the same. I'd like to help transition a new person in if I can. Pass along some specialized knowledge to help avoid the "single point of failure" everyone's terrified of (while doing precious little to prevent). I know, it's more than my Emp would do for me ever in a million years, but it's something I would like to do.
On the plus side for the Emp, they're looking to fill a couple of positions soon--what's one more? They'll likely have a pool of candidates to choose from by the time I break my news. But how and when to do that...
Any ideas?
Employer doesn't know about the engagement currently underway let alone the wedding date/relocation plans. Given the way Emp has handled recent layoffs, I don't want to spill the beans too early. Being unemployed would give me more time to plan the wedding, but I kinda need the income to do the wedding.
I'd like to leave on good terms with the Emp. A former co-worker gave 2 weeks' notice for a departure she'd quietly planned for months and it left a bad taste. I don't want to do the same. I'd like to help transition a new person in if I can. Pass along some specialized knowledge to help avoid the "single point of failure" everyone's terrified of (while doing precious little to prevent). I know, it's more than my Emp would do for me ever in a million years, but it's something I would like to do.
On the plus side for the Emp, they're looking to fill a couple of positions soon--what's one more? They'll likely have a pool of candidates to choose from by the time I break my news. But how and when to do that...
Any ideas?
Lent Suspension # 2
I'd been doing pretty well not talking about the annoying co-worker. I probably could have kept that up had she not just FOGGED me with air freshener. She wasn't going to come in today, yet here she is--and packing Glade.
I'd just heated up leftover salmon and was eating lunch at my desk when she came in, sniffed loudly and made a derisive noise. Queen of the non-verbal Disapproval Sounds, that one.
She slams stuff down on her desk, props the door open, gets the air freshener from the restroom and power sprays. Not her own office, but over the cubicle top into my office. So now there's eu de pukeflower settling in on my person, my lunch, my keyboard and my eyes are starting to burn.
Yes, the smell of fish can become powerful in an enclosed space. Nevertheless, there's a NICE way to deal with your office mate's abundantly scented lunch--and this ain't it.
Riddle me this: why the audible disdain today, whither the fogging today when I ate the exact same thing for lunch YESTERDAY with no such reaction?
End rant. Resume Lenten silence.
I'd just heated up leftover salmon and was eating lunch at my desk when she came in, sniffed loudly and made a derisive noise. Queen of the non-verbal Disapproval Sounds, that one.
She slams stuff down on her desk, props the door open, gets the air freshener from the restroom and power sprays. Not her own office, but over the cubicle top into my office. So now there's eu de pukeflower settling in on my person, my lunch, my keyboard and my eyes are starting to burn.
Yes, the smell of fish can become powerful in an enclosed space. Nevertheless, there's a NICE way to deal with your office mate's abundantly scented lunch--and this ain't it.
Riddle me this: why the audible disdain today, whither the fogging today when I ate the exact same thing for lunch YESTERDAY with no such reaction?
End rant. Resume Lenten silence.
Monday, March 13, 2006
Mother/Daughter bonding
I spent the last week in the grip of a violent intestinal bug, hence the absence of new blog entries. I had to cancel my trip to see Mike in St Louis (injury) and I only had enough sick time to cover 3 of the 5 days I was out so I had to take two vacation days anyway (insult).
On the plus side, I got to spend a week + of quality bonding time with mom.
Mom visited the ER the week before last and picked up a bug in addition to the malady that originally sent her there. She thought hers was the result of a drug interaction. That is, until I came down with the exact same symptoms last Monday.
I called my doctor after the vomiting began. She called back an hour later (after the uncontrollable diarrhea set in) and phoned in a prescription for the nausea. Suggested Immodium for the trouble at the other end.
You know how once you vomit something up, you want never to eat it again? I'm adding bananas and oatmeal to the list.
Anyway, mom and I were both flattened the first few days. We spent a lot of time watching TV--mostly movies on AMC or whatever channel was showing something interesting. She rolled her eyes but indulged me when I petitioned to watch a couple episodes of The Young and the Restless and Days of Our Lives--soaps I only watch when I'm under the weather. It's part of my healing ritual, along with bed rest, chicken soup and other comfort foods.
If mom had seen a movie (i.e. The Philadelphia Story), I kept pestering her to tell me what happened in case a return of symptoms prevented me from watching to the end. When I'd seen something she hadn't (Bend it Like Beckham), she pestered me for plot details.
By Thursday, we were feeling ready for something a little more substantial: the six-hour A&E version of Pride and Prejudice. We'd watched devotedly when it first aired and I bought it for Mother's Day the year it came out on video. I broke the DVD out of my stash and popped it into the player. We made tea while the opening credits rolled and settled in among the down throws and fleece blankets to watch. PK would occasionally curl up on my lap and fall asleep, adding to the cozy ambiance.
We didn't stir until it was time to put in disc 2. About an hour in to the second half, Mike called. I exited to talk to him and missed a crucial hour of unfolding details. I rejoined mom and we watched the end together.
On Saturday morning, I wandered in and sat down on the couch with mom. We concluded that we were feeling better. Mom broached the topic first: "You know, we could watch it again..." Yes, I said, needing no details to know her meaning. "If we start now, we'll be done by 4:00 pm." We scurried to make breakfast, tea, and arrange our bedding for P&P round two.
This probably the last time mom and I will get to lie around together and indulge in P&P screenings. I could do without the being sick part, but it was truly sweet and truly decadent to indulge in a little mother/daughter/curled up kitty time.
On the plus side, I got to spend a week + of quality bonding time with mom.
Mom visited the ER the week before last and picked up a bug in addition to the malady that originally sent her there. She thought hers was the result of a drug interaction. That is, until I came down with the exact same symptoms last Monday.
I called my doctor after the vomiting began. She called back an hour later (after the uncontrollable diarrhea set in) and phoned in a prescription for the nausea. Suggested Immodium for the trouble at the other end.
You know how once you vomit something up, you want never to eat it again? I'm adding bananas and oatmeal to the list.
Anyway, mom and I were both flattened the first few days. We spent a lot of time watching TV--mostly movies on AMC or whatever channel was showing something interesting. She rolled her eyes but indulged me when I petitioned to watch a couple episodes of The Young and the Restless and Days of Our Lives--soaps I only watch when I'm under the weather. It's part of my healing ritual, along with bed rest, chicken soup and other comfort foods.
If mom had seen a movie (i.e. The Philadelphia Story), I kept pestering her to tell me what happened in case a return of symptoms prevented me from watching to the end. When I'd seen something she hadn't (Bend it Like Beckham), she pestered me for plot details.
By Thursday, we were feeling ready for something a little more substantial: the six-hour A&E version of Pride and Prejudice. We'd watched devotedly when it first aired and I bought it for Mother's Day the year it came out on video. I broke the DVD out of my stash and popped it into the player. We made tea while the opening credits rolled and settled in among the down throws and fleece blankets to watch. PK would occasionally curl up on my lap and fall asleep, adding to the cozy ambiance.
We didn't stir until it was time to put in disc 2. About an hour in to the second half, Mike called. I exited to talk to him and missed a crucial hour of unfolding details. I rejoined mom and we watched the end together.
On Saturday morning, I wandered in and sat down on the couch with mom. We concluded that we were feeling better. Mom broached the topic first: "You know, we could watch it again..." Yes, I said, needing no details to know her meaning. "If we start now, we'll be done by 4:00 pm." We scurried to make breakfast, tea, and arrange our bedding for P&P round two.
This probably the last time mom and I will get to lie around together and indulge in P&P screenings. I could do without the being sick part, but it was truly sweet and truly decadent to indulge in a little mother/daughter/curled up kitty time.
We're Out!
Mike was in St Louis over the weekend. I was supposed to meet him there (cue the Judy Garland tunes), but wound up staying home sick instead.
Sunday night, Mike took the kids out to eat and told them that we're getting married and there's a stepmom in their future. They were, of course, surprised but seemed to take it well. No fits pitched, though one daughter did say that him waiting until age 87 to remarry was an appropriate length of time. (She later reduced it to age 57).
Afterward, when Mike dropped off the kids, he also told his ex. She wanted to know when and said July seemed like it would be OK. Other than that, she had NO discernible reaction. Just kept putting groceries away. I guess that's good? Or should we brace for a possible delayed reaction?
Either way, it feels good to have everyone in the know. Four teenage stepkids. Wow. Now it's real.
Sunday night, Mike took the kids out to eat and told them that we're getting married and there's a stepmom in their future. They were, of course, surprised but seemed to take it well. No fits pitched, though one daughter did say that him waiting until age 87 to remarry was an appropriate length of time. (She later reduced it to age 57).
Afterward, when Mike dropped off the kids, he also told his ex. She wanted to know when and said July seemed like it would be OK. Other than that, she had NO discernible reaction. Just kept putting groceries away. I guess that's good? Or should we brace for a possible delayed reaction?
Either way, it feels good to have everyone in the know. Four teenage stepkids. Wow. Now it's real.
Friday, March 03, 2006
What the H really stands for in HMO
Hell Maintenance Organization.
Not just because of the endless red tape, approval processes and hoops patients have to jump through--though I would argue these rank among the most common frustrations. Based on my recent experience with my HMO, I'm convinced there's more to the "hell" part than meets the eye.
I believe that Satan, Beelzebub, Old Nick, Lucifer, Lord Voldemort--whatever you want to call him-- has his hands full. Notwithstanding the leg up he's getting from George W, Satan needs help spreading hopelessness, misery and despair.
That's where HMOs come in. Evil predates their existence, of course, but don't they do a bang-up job of sapping all that is good and holy out of you? After you've been trapped in their automated phone systems, dealt with unhelpful personnel and ego-tripping physicians, been denied coverage, treatment, a second opinion, or even someone who will LISTEN and after 40 minutes you're still on hold to make an appointment, where are you? You're in HELL! Lucifer is the COO/CEO and all the HMOs are supporting his mission statement! They're all branches of the Devil's Home Office.
This rant brought to you in part by my current battles with Facey Medical Group and a physician who's channeling Saruman.
Not just because of the endless red tape, approval processes and hoops patients have to jump through--though I would argue these rank among the most common frustrations. Based on my recent experience with my HMO, I'm convinced there's more to the "hell" part than meets the eye.
I believe that Satan, Beelzebub, Old Nick, Lucifer, Lord Voldemort--whatever you want to call him-- has his hands full. Notwithstanding the leg up he's getting from George W, Satan needs help spreading hopelessness, misery and despair.
That's where HMOs come in. Evil predates their existence, of course, but don't they do a bang-up job of sapping all that is good and holy out of you? After you've been trapped in their automated phone systems, dealt with unhelpful personnel and ego-tripping physicians, been denied coverage, treatment, a second opinion, or even someone who will LISTEN and after 40 minutes you're still on hold to make an appointment, where are you? You're in HELL! Lucifer is the COO/CEO and all the HMOs are supporting his mission statement! They're all branches of the Devil's Home Office.
This rant brought to you in part by my current battles with Facey Medical Group and a physician who's channeling Saruman.
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Lent, Mormon style
I've always felt a little ripped off that Mormons don't get any religious holidays. Unless you live in Utah and your employer shuts down on July 24th for Pioneer Day, you're out of luck.
Some college friends tried to remedy this by celebrating Lent. We'd give up a vice, bad habit, or food group for the 40 days between Ash Wednesday and Easter. Twas a very unMormon thing to do.
The first year, I was ambitious: I gave up all sugar, chocolate and carbonated beverages. I blew the chocolate part within the first week, but after going without sodas for 40 days, I didn't miss it enough to go back.
The following year I gave up dessert and swearing. (Shit, that last one was hard). I also tried to develop a GOOD habit for 40 days, thinking it wasn't enough to merely give up something that was bad. Now I can't remember what that good habit was...
It's been a while since I celebrated Lent. I'm feeling up for the challenge, so I'm giving up sugar/dessert for the next 40 days. I'm ruling fruit and honey as allowable substances, and I may make a one-time dessert exception for my parents' wedding anniversary party. I'll call out Mike to not tempt me overmuch with premium ice creams during my next visit. ;)
PS: I'm also going to abstain (or attempt to abstain) from bitching about my annoying co-worker. Believe me, that will be more of a challenge than giving up dessert.
Some college friends tried to remedy this by celebrating Lent. We'd give up a vice, bad habit, or food group for the 40 days between Ash Wednesday and Easter. Twas a very unMormon thing to do.
The first year, I was ambitious: I gave up all sugar, chocolate and carbonated beverages. I blew the chocolate part within the first week, but after going without sodas for 40 days, I didn't miss it enough to go back.
The following year I gave up dessert and swearing. (Shit, that last one was hard). I also tried to develop a GOOD habit for 40 days, thinking it wasn't enough to merely give up something that was bad. Now I can't remember what that good habit was...
It's been a while since I celebrated Lent. I'm feeling up for the challenge, so I'm giving up sugar/dessert for the next 40 days. I'm ruling fruit and honey as allowable substances, and I may make a one-time dessert exception for my parents' wedding anniversary party. I'll call out Mike to not tempt me overmuch with premium ice creams during my next visit. ;)
PS: I'm also going to abstain (or attempt to abstain) from bitching about my annoying co-worker. Believe me, that will be more of a challenge than giving up dessert.
What the cat dragged in
At least 4 more crickets, two spiders, and a fly met their maker since I last posted about PK's hunting skills. This morning, however, I woke up to a less pleasant gift from the kitty: a dead roach that PK killed and left ON THE BED.
Gifts like this are part of cat ownership--just as much as litter box scooping and cleaning up the occasional vomit. Many times I have earnestly talked to PK about barfing on easy-to-clean surfaces, but to no avail. At my former apartment with the dirt-brown carpet, I didn't care where he yakked as long as he didn't do it on my bed or the couches.
Insect and reptile carcasses rank above cat yak, but those gifts are FAR more likely to be deposited in a place the cat's owner is sure to find them. Like the bed. Thank heavens it was dead or I would have screamed half the neighborhood awake.
When I told mom about the roach on the bed, she said she'd heard an epic battle in the hallway in the middle of the night. Must have been PK stalking and pouncing on his prey--or maybe he did a victory lap. He can't run on the hardwood floors and stay upright, so that would make some noise. I should count my blessings that he's an indoor-only cat. No telling what kind of gifts he'd bring if he could go hunting outside.
Gifts like this are part of cat ownership--just as much as litter box scooping and cleaning up the occasional vomit. Many times I have earnestly talked to PK about barfing on easy-to-clean surfaces, but to no avail. At my former apartment with the dirt-brown carpet, I didn't care where he yakked as long as he didn't do it on my bed or the couches.
Insect and reptile carcasses rank above cat yak, but those gifts are FAR more likely to be deposited in a place the cat's owner is sure to find them. Like the bed. Thank heavens it was dead or I would have screamed half the neighborhood awake.
When I told mom about the roach on the bed, she said she'd heard an epic battle in the hallway in the middle of the night. Must have been PK stalking and pouncing on his prey--or maybe he did a victory lap. He can't run on the hardwood floors and stay upright, so that would make some noise. I should count my blessings that he's an indoor-only cat. No telling what kind of gifts he'd bring if he could go hunting outside.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
