More dictionary terms

pain: what you feel for two days after a Jillian Michaels workout.

hunger: fat leaving your body

metabolism: something I lost at age 25.

happiness: fitting into my size 8 slacks again.

Marriage

I hear way too often about the "sanctity" of marriage and the importance of family values - usually from people who have nice glass houses and a habit of tossing rocks. Marriage is first and foremost a business relationship. Anyone that says differently is likely not married or not going to be married for very long. A healthy marriage is a partnership of equals (and I don't mean finances here - I mean everything else) each giving of their time, attention, affection to the goals, dreams and worries of the other.
A friend of mine is about to embark upon an arranged marriage of sorts. His parents have been sorting through a bevy of prospective brides, sending him pictures of their top choices. He has selected one and is pursuing a relationship. It surely beats the efforts so many folks go through with corporate matchmakers like eHarmony match.com. But I think this only works within a culture that values marriage not as a magical romantic happily ever after prospect but as a partnership where love grows.
I started thinking about the type of wife my in-laws would have selected for my husband. It would not have been me and the marriage would have been a total loss. I can tell you now that she would be an elementary school teacher that plays the violin beautifully. My in-laws would want a daughter-in-law that was smart but not too smart, quiet and sweet, musically inclined and would look to her husband for guidance. I am so not that person. You are welcome, honey.

More Terms for My Dictionary

jeans: the preferable arbiter of relative fitness
scale: one who hates me
alcohol: sweet delicious goodness that translates to belly fat
longevity: arm fat

Sadie's New Dictionary

Exercising has changed the way I think about a lot of words. I am now revising some of them to better fit my world view.

determination: a battle of wills involving fat and my body

discipline: going for a run when it is too cold to get out of bed.

myth: see also "runner's high"

Little China Girl

Pedophiles should be executed. I do not in general support the death penalty. I am after all a bleeding heart liberal. I make an exception for child rapists. Here is the brief from the local paper about my neighbor and his pre-teen stepdaughter.:

A state Department of Public Safety officer stopped an aggravated rape late Wednesday night at BREC’s Independence Park, according to a State Police news release.

Samuel Tristan Munoz, 24, 640 Arlington Ave., was found in the passenger cabin of his truck with a pre-teen girl just before midnight, said Lt. M. Doug Cain II, a State Police spokesman.

The DPS officer noticed Munoz’s Chevrolet truck while patrolling the grounds of the State Police headquarters across the street.

After seeing two people in the cab of the truck, the officer ordered the driver to exit the vehicle, which Munoz initially ignored, Cain said.

After Munoz complied, the officer noticed the second person appeared to be a minor and confirmed she was a pre-teen, Cain said. Her age was not released.

After further investigation, authorities learned Munoz and the victim had been having sexual relations for more than a year, Cain said.

Munoz was booked into East Baton Rouge Parish Prison on five counts of aggravated rape with bond set at $2.25 million

Maggie O.

Well, I hate that there are two memorials in a row. But it has to happen. Maggie died on Tuesday at 36. She is remembered as a sweet girl - with a kind soul. I knew her as a broken, troubled woman. She had trouble managing life... could not seem to find her place in it. As a grown-up person, she simply did not work. I think she would have made a great cat. I would have loved her antics, admired her beauty, given her the attention she craved, ignored her tantrums as becoming of a cat, and missed her greatly when she passed. Maybe she will come back as a kitten and live that cycle happily.

Maggie had a lot of child-like qualities and would say and do some fairly random things. I am including a message she sent me last April to encourage me in my exercises:

I SO admire your tenacity w/ the Rec Center. That's HARD to keep going back DAY after DAY. Well, for ME it is. When I was little, going to swim practice and track was like that. The Rec Center I just got obsessive about, 'cause school was going so shittily and I couldn't do very well. But even when I TRIED to be obsessive about the Rec Center, I couldn't maintain it! I failed as a what-do-you call it? Which one, oh, anorexic? But I ate too much for it to count anyway. It was good that I moved away from there. Very glad! (I was living near there...Laville)...moved to Embassy. I was just bored and ended up going there all the time. Actually, when I was at Embassy, I still worked there, as a lifeguard, but I guess I had THAT to do instead, instead of focusing on whatever. Weird, that. I get miserable when I'm bored.

SO glad to be working again!
YOU have a GREAT, great day!

Sorry for rambling! xo
Hope Friday goes fast and easily! And no annoying people! Fast forward them! Hope I don't have any really shitty diapers! Eww! They smell REALLY bad! Gross!

With that thought! BYE!

At the time she was working at a child care center, taking care of babies. That was what she seemed good at - giving both the elderly and children her attention. Unfortunately, employment requires working with adults and adjusting to the real world. She rambled... her brain would just take her places and she lacked a filter to distinguish what made sense to include in conversations and what did not. Maggie spent last Christmas with us... she was very sad, remembering her brother (who had committed suicide several years prior), and feeling the need to figure herself out but lacking the ability to do so effectively. Maggie required a lot of attention. I sincerely hope she finds peace and happiness in the next life. I don't think she had it in this one.

Maggie's brain betrayed her... by not functioning right and then finally killing her with a massive seizure. My next high maintenance cat will be named in honor - out of sincere love and in her memory.

Rest in Peace

In Memory of Capt. Sean Sims

Captain Sean Patrick Sims born August 27, 1972, died November 13, 2004 in Fallujah, Iraq. Captain Sims was commanding A Company, 2-2 BN, 1st Infantry Division, when he was killed in action. He was leading his company in action against a band of insurgents occupying buildings in Fallujah.


Captain Sims graduated from Texas A&M University. He was a member of the Corps of Cadets, the Ross Volunteers, Ranger Challenge and commander of Company L-2. He graduated with a degree in Mechanical Engineering and received a distinguished military graduate commission into the United States Army as an Infantry officer. He was the top graduate in his platoon at the Infantry Officers Basic Course, and then attended the Airborne School, Pathfinder Course, and Ranger School. He then was assigned to the 101st Airborne Division as a platoon leader and Company Executive Officer. He later attended the Armor Officers Course and followed that with an assignment to Germany where he was assigned to the Seventh Army Training Center at Grafenwoehr. After one year he was transferred to the 1st Infantry Division in Vilseck where he spent the rest of the time as Brigade and Battalion Staff Officer, including eight months with the 1st Infantry Division deployed to Kosovo. He then joined Company A, 2nd Battalion, 2nd Regiment, 3rd Brigade, 1st Infantry Division for deployment to Iraq in February of 2004.


He was married to the former Heidi Duty 96 of Eddy, Texas. He is survived by Heidi and a young son, Colin Patrick, who had a mere five weeks with his father before he deployed to Iraq.


Captain Sims is the son of Colonel Thomas L. and Laura (nee Ivey) Sims of McKinney, Texas and El Paso. He is the grandson of a major leader in the history of El Paso, Ben L. Ivey, deceased, and Leone O. (nee Drugan) Ivey of the Lower Valley. His paternal grandfather, Walter K. Sims, is a retired Lieutenant Colonel in the U.S. Army and was a long time resident of El Paso where he spent many years working for the Texas Employment Commission.


Source: Obituary Notice


Citation to Accompany the Award of the Silver Star:


FOR VALOROUS ACTIONS AS THE COMMANDER OF COMPANY A, TASK FORCE 2-2 INFANTRY, WHILE ATTACKING TO DEFEAT AN ENTRENCHED FORCE OF SEVERAL HUNDRED ANTI-IRAQI AND FOREIGN FIGHTERS IN THE CITY OF FALLUJAH. ACTING AS THE MAIN EFFORT COMPANY COMMANDER FOR THE ATTACK INTO FALLUJAH ON 9 NOVEMBER 2004 DURING OPERATION PHANTOM FURY, A/2-2 INFANTRY UNDER CAPTAIN SIMS COMMAND EXECUTED A DYNAMIC BREACH AND CONDUCTED OFFENSIVE OPERATIONS FOR 45 STRAIGHT HOURS TO DESTROY THE AIF DEFENSES AND TO OPEN THE CITY FOR FOLLOW-ON FORCES. CAPTAIN SIMSS PERSONAL BRAVERY, COURAGE UNDER FIRE AND FEARLESS LEADERSHIP WAS DIRECTLY RESPONSIBLE FOR THE DEFEAT OF THE HEART OF THE ANTI-IRAQI FORCES AND THE RAPID COLLAPSE OF THEIR DEFENSIVE POSITIONS. CAPTAIN SIMSS DEDICATION TO HIS FELLOW SOLDIERS ON THE BATTLEFIELD UPHOLDS THE FINEST TRADITIONS OF MILITARY SERVICE AND REFLECTS GREAT CREDIT UPON HIMSELF, TASK FORCE DANGER AND THE UNITED STATES ARMY.

First hand account of Fallujah link here

Identity Politics of a Sort

I am not a runner but I try to run. For those of you following along at home, I finally made it to the mile marker in October. I have been running a mile pretty faithfully ever since - usually in the mornings. But I am not a runner. A runner can run 3 miles in under half an hour. I jog at best through my mile. I run because I have to - cardio is the only way to get these blasted pounds off. Sure, I get a little blip of a high as I turn the corner on the last bit of my mile. It lasts until I hit the shower. So not a runner's high.

I have been exercising twice a day now for almost a month. I try to vary my exercises though running is the fastest/easiest way to get it over with. As the days get winter shorter, I have had to do more traditional exercises. I dislike the gym for the most part. Driving and finding parking just smacks of effort. I am one lazy exerciser. I have been doing the Exercise TV classes available for free on Cox On Demand's Free Zone. Last night I worked out with the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders and this morning I did Jillian Michael's Shred. I am by no means physically fit, but that is one identity I hope to achieve.

Veteran's Day

Today is Veteran's Day. As an Army brat, I have strong ties to our military, but none stronger than the memory of those lost. In two days it will be the 5th anniversary of Sean Sims's death in Fallujah. My greatest memory of Sean is of him trying very patiently to teach me to two-step. We were on the Yongsan Army base and I had gone out with a friend who was dating Sean's friend. The two of us were not together but were both the buddy along for the ride. We'd grown up together - both spending our high school years in the tight knot community that was Yongsan. Sean was gracious enough to partner me multiple times. I was a really bad dancer. Really bad. He made me smile and not feel awkward. I will always be thankful for that. I still cannot two-step, but I think about him whenever I hear country music. We both grew up and went on with our lives. His was tragically cut short, and I think the world is a bit sadder for it. His infectious smile and good attitude made the world a better place. He is missed.
http://www.stripes.com/article.asp?section=104&article=25573

Won't Someone Please Think of the Trees?!

I must apologize to my readers in advance for an unforgivable lack of subtlety. Every fall millions of little life forms... baby trees already germinated and ready to grow into oxygen producing, shady oak trees are crushed before they have a chance to generate a tap root. It is bad enough that they are often victims of vicious predators like squirrels and birds, but what is most horrifying are the millions heartlessly squashed by passing vehicles and crunched under the murderous feet of pedestrians.This holocaust must end. Pray for the lives of these innocent acorns.

An Immodest Proposal

As our institution of higher learning faces unprecedented 60% cuts to funding, I propose a solution which will not only revolutionize the college learning experience, but will save tons of money too. Oh, and will put me and my spouse on the unemployment lines. So you know it must be a really great idea. Sure, I got it from those clever student reporters... but I drove it erratically to its next logical conclusion. We should let go all of the staff on the college campus. Faculty can stay since they have tenure and do important PhD-required research. Everyone else is out the door - including the chancellor. SG president can handle the chancellor's gig. It is all about the student experience after all. Students can simply handle all of the university's day to day work as part of a semester long class assignment. Faculty payroll can be handled by our accounting students; computer programs by our computing students, philosophy and general studies majors can do the general clerical and janitorial work since they really should practice for life after college anyway. Engineering students can take care of our facilities and infrastructure. Ag and Landscaping kids can handle the plants across campus. Art and theater students can work the cafeterias. Music and social work students can handle the student life experience. Marketing and business majors can take care of the recruiting; mass comm and English students can work on all the public affairs stuff. Education majors can teach the actual intro level courses, and kinesiology students can coach our major sports. The state can then take the savings to open more chicken farms and processing plants... creating useful jobs for the now unemployed knowledge workers. But hey, we preserved the academic core, and provided our students with hands-on, real world experiences that will make our degree that much more valuable.

Death of a Dream

One of my favorite television reality shows of all time is Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders - Make the Team. Hundreds of young women compete to be a DCC and for the last 4 seasons - it's been on television. I fell in love with the DCCs back in the 1970s and as a child, I adored Jane Seymour's 1979 made for TV movie Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders. I had the blue and white pom poms. As I matured, I found other interests and they did not include cheerleading. I know you are shocked. I was never very good at memorizing choreography. I have trouble with the basic routines that are done in aerobics. I have gotten much better however than I was as an awkward teenager. I can now manage the electric slide for example. That said, one of the first round candidates for this season's DCC squad was a 32 year old veteran. She had been a DCC back in the 1990s. My first thought? You are too old. That's right. I went straight to it. She is too old to be a DCC. As I am even older than she is - I too am too old to be a DCC. Then it hit me - even if I worked my butt off and magically learned to dance, I am now too old to be a DCC. The dream is over.

Illogical

Dear Sir:
I just don't understand you. For a scientist, you show a remarkable lack of logic and insight into your own life. It boggles my mind. You have a job that you hate and that seems to hate you. This was your dream job not three months ago. The honeymoon lasted all of two weeks. You immediately begin the search for another position. You get offered a part-time position that you reject out of hand as beneath you. The job is a stepping stone - an opportunity to work for a multimillionaire with labs. It is a job in your field that has unbelievable networking potential. But you don't want to have to take a pay cut and build a lab. That would be all fine and good except that a breath later you state that you are willing to wait tables if you have to. WTF?! Really? You would rather wait tables then work this job that your friend lined you up for? If you fear failure and letting your friend down, then be honest about it at least with yourself.

I Hate Derek Chang's Koto

The little manager that works there is a total cunt and I hope she is run over by a car.

Progress of Sorts

I made it this morning without giving into the temptations of donuts and assorted breakfasty starches. I did not make through this afternoon and the stupid little bite size candies that are on my colleague's table. Instead I unleash my soon to be outer Homer Simpson and gorge myself on blasted butterfingers. So yummy.... mmm butterfingers.... On the plus side (pun intended), I have effectively increased my exercise. I now try to do something in the mornings before I head to work and walk in the afternoons. One of the lovely features of digital cable is the free zone's health & fitness selection. ExerciseTV classes featuring 10 min buns and thighs and Kim Kardashian's upper body workout have become staples. While I have gained 3 fricking pounds, I have slimmed down enough in order to fit into some of my older and therefore smaller fat clothes. I consider this a form of progress. But why does progress have to be so bloody slow? Probably because of the butterfingers, I know. Why can't I have the metabolism I enjoyed back in the 90s? Such a slim and attractive decade that was for me. Why?Why? Whine. Okay. Got that out of my system. My walks which until the oppressive heat of July involved some running have continued. It was cool enough for me to run a bit this weekend and yesterday - both times I managed to run a solid 1/2 mile on the homeward stint of my walk. I am pretty impressed with myself. I am tempted to see if I can make it even further...and tragically scared of failure. Not sure why. Sure the rest of the world can run/jog a mile without issue. As soon as the indoor track opens again, I plan to try for the full mile. I think all of the added cardio workouts have increased my ability to run. Thank you Kim Kardashian.

F#@k you very much

Ah Facebook has been a wonderful resource for catching up with friends from my past. It has also provided me with wonderful insight into the lives and political leanings of people I have lost touch with. I do not think that Fb is the place for political discussions among Fb friends. I ignore my Fb friends who have way different beliefs than I do. You think I shouldn't have a right to choose? You think Obama is the devil? I am fairly tolerant so long as you keep those comments off of my Fb page. They can be on yours all day long. I am mature enough to not write "YOU ARE A F*#$ING IDIOT" on your wall or below your unreasonable posts. So you should not be surprised or offended that I will delete such comments from my page should you post them. While we have very little in common other than a vague feeling of nostalgia, I remain disappointed that you would then "unfriend" me after all of the BS I saw you post before, during and after the election simply because I deleted your snotty comment. So f@#k you.

Theme Songs

Theme songs are important. I try to think of a theme song for each era of my life. At various points my theme songs have included "Crash" by the Primitives; "Six Feet Under" by No Doubt, "Dear God" by XTC, "Candy" by Iggy Pop. Well, you get the picture. Right now my theme song is "Hell Yes" by Alkaline Trio.
My animals also have theme songs. Cixous usually has the Scooby Doo theme song as her own. Right now it is "Radar Love". She is wearing an E-collar and it is hilarious. Every time I see her, the song goes right through my head. Austin's theme song had been Chumbawumba's "Tub Thumping" but I think it is now something by the Dave Mathews Band. He is a total frat boy. Kurzweil does not yet have a theme song. I think he might be MGMT sort of guy. But I am not certain. Still trying to figure him out.
When I hear certain songs, I will forever associate them with my animals. Sometimes they now make me cry since I miss them so much.

Shhh... Cube Life

Alright. I understand that cube life is not easy. I work in an office, but I still hear things. I have been told that cube life is not easy. That said, there are some ground rules that should be in place to make it all easier. I am talking about common courtesy. This is something that you should have picked up by now. (Like flushing the toilet when you are done - 2nd floor ladies, I am talking to you!). Apparently, common courtesy is becoming uncommon. So, let me re-introduce it to you. You should try to be respectful of people (and programmers) who are working in your vicinity. Some people are not as social as you are and are trying to actually get some work done. So, keep the guffaws and good times to a minimum - when possible. I think you should be able to enjoy your work environment, simply don't let your side of the cube resemble Grand Central Station or a successful comedy club. If you are one of the people (or programmers) that is trying to work amidst the social chaos of your cube neighbors, I wish you good luck. Your anti-social ways have gotten you far - as far as the social butterfly next door. I recommend that you chill out. Yes, your work product will no doubt be recognized. but if you yell, "Shut the f--k up!" at your cube neighbor..... well, that will be remembered more. Don't be that guy. Invest in some ear-buds. Listen to some white noise or actual music while you delve into your little php world. If the noise is deafening and you are about to lose your shit - you have a deadline and 500 lines of SAS to get through - simply ask your neighbor nicely to be quiet. Make it about you and not him or her. You are the one whose mind cannot process multiple things simultaneously after all. A suggestion would be,"Excuse me. Sorry to interrupt, but I am trying to meet a deadline and my mind cannot process code amidst your banter. Would you mind taking this conversation elsewhere?" See, isn't that easy?

Half Way to the Half Way Point

My battle for me has been going on for over a year now. When I started this journey I weighed 185. I ballooned up to 195 when I started exercising (because I am lucky like that). Now I am at 177. With my height, I need to be 156 in order to not be overweight according the BMI. I want to be 147. I think that would be ideal and it would take me to the other side of the scale. I would have a BMI of 23.4 which would still put me on the fat end of normal. However, I know that at 147, I will be able to wear a size 6 without issue. At 130, I am a size 0. Of course according to the BMI, I am not underweight until I cross the 115 threshold. What size is smaller than 0? Coffin sized? I have wonderfully heavy bones.
We are having a yard sale this coming weekend. I was going through what used to be my fat clothes (the size 8s) and was amazed at how fricking small I used to be and should be. I am saving a bottle of champagne for when I hit 160. Then when I hit my ideal weight, I am going to need a trip to the beach in my bikini. At this rate, it should take two more years. I can do it!!!!

Slippery Slope

I see this too often. I have even done it myself. I am talking about becoming so focused on the negative that you wind up crippling yourself. This is especially dangerous in the workplace. We all know them... you get fed up with existing injustices (e.g., He isn't working as hard as I am, yet he gets paid twice as much). The toxicity of the situation gets to you. Then you become the problem. You start slacking off or complaining so much that the change in behavior is what is noticed. The simple fact of the matter is that life is not fair. Get over it. No work or life situation is perfect. Sure it ticks me off that there are people cashing in a bigger paycheck than I am who should in fact be fired for gross stupidity. But if getting rid of them were an easy fix - they would be gone. There is always something else going on. So my advice to you is to be a good team player even when you are teamed with retards (no offense to the mentally retarded who may very well be good team players and smarter than the co-workers alluded to). You cannot control other people and the situations in which you find yourself. You can only control you. So stop letting the toxicity of "them" or the "situation" get to you. Never let them see you sweat translates to never let them see you acting out. You can only hurt yourself. People notice changes in behavior and want to put a stop to them immediately so as not to have a situation later on that cannot be expeditiously addressed. People can ignore what they have had to ignore for years.

Pardon?

So I go to pick up Calisto from the vet this morning and return her grumpiness home. We've decided that she has endured enough poking and prodding and she should be able to enjoy her weekend. Monday she will go to our vet. Her blood work shows that she is in poor shape. There is definitely some heart disease. The ER vet suggested that she see a cardiologist. I don't think she understands our relationship with our animals. My 11 yr old cat is not going to a cardiologist. As much as I love my animals, a cardiologist? Really? I am not spending thousands of dollars to give her another couple of years. Apparently this qualifies me for service on the fictitious "death panels." Calisto, much as I love her, is a grumpy old lady cat. Sure she could have a few more years being a grumpy old lady - but why? She's had a fine run. I say, "go out on a high note." No one should want to malinger. When she starts crapping on herself then it is time to be put down. She is a cat.... an old, grumpy cat. While she loves to complain (very vocally) about the injustices being inflicted on her by society - she does not enjoy having something real to complain about. Neither do I. That's not to say that we wouldn't pay for a life saving surgery or for pet therapy - since we've done that many times. It is that we remain cognizant of the ROI. Right now it is just about keeping Calisto comfortable. Our vet is really wonderful and will have a solid prognosis for her quality of life and options. But it will wait till Monday. We have to celebrate a grumpy but lovable old man's 85th birthday this weekend.

Oh, come on!

This is getting ridiculous. Another late night due to a medical emergency. This time its Calisto the cat. She was wobbling and laying in the middle of the floor much like our Popo did before he died of renal failure. So we brought her to the emergency vet clinic. Of course this is a $400 trip at the end of a month when the checking account reads $140. They wanted $1200 to diagnose what is actually wrong with her. Credit cards are about maxed out thanks to the unfettered lifestyle to which we've long been accustomed but never been able to afford. I am trying to stay positive. I have a limping dog that I was going to spend $400 on next month for her vet visit. Looks like she will continue to limp along. And so will we.
In the meantime this week has brought two broken blackjacks, two late nights involving ER visits, one funeral, two sick pets, and I am pretty sure my boobs are now getting smaller. So I bought a lottery ticket and I am going to burn some sage to clear out the bad mojo. On the upside, everything else is going really well.

The rest of the story

Growing up overseas, I listened to a lot of armed forces radio and enjoyed listening to Paul Harvey's "The Rest of the Story." It was always so informative and well-crafted. He died and with him his catch phrase. Although, it does ring through my head from time to time. With all of the retirement drama currently circulating this place, I keep awaiting the conclusion and Harvey's words, "now you know the rest of the story." Having institutional knowledge - an actual oral history of a place - is necessary and fun. Did you know that the position VC for Student Life was actually created as a favor to a friend? That intended favor went horribly wrong and the friend did not get the position. Yet a decade later, the position still exists at the institution in question. Why? No one who knows the story remains in power. Organizations should take the opportunity to re-evaluate its structures, assess the viability of changes, question whether or not an entity is needed, and then act appropriately.

Are they growing?

RR, do not read this. It will scare you. It is about breasts - specifically mine. I have been working out and eating right for a year now. Yes, it has been that long. I am finally seeing some progress. I am able to fit into pants that I hadn't been comfortable in for quite a while. They say that when you work out, your boobs are the first to go. Not mine. In fact, I am starting to suspect that they are growing. Could my ass fat be migrating upwards? Could they just look bigger since the rest of me is getting smaller? How cool is that?! They have always been a good size. Even when I was a size 0, I still had a C cup size though barely. I think it would just be embarrassing for them to get any bigger than they are. They are wonderful, don't get me wrong. I adore them as they are now. I just want to be able to freeze their growth as well as any resulting saggage. There is nothing worse than boobs that hit the knees. Alrighty then. I have made my male readers horribly uncomfortable, and hopefully my friends laugh a bit. Please don't stare at my chest - even though it is hard to miss.

Hubris!

Forgive me while I take a moment to step away from the thrilling writing about nodes and Access Grids in which I am currently immersed for work reasons. I need to rant creatively. Actually, I simply have gossip to share.
You may have read the June 30th blog entitled, "Gasp!" Well, this is the rest of the story - so far. The two individuals at the top of the decision to arrest the retiring administrator are now themselves retiring. The CFO and the guy over Public Safety are being allegedly forced out due to their less than wise decision to make a public spectacle over a private embarrassment. The CFO was thought to be untouchable. Now, thanks to hubris, he is gone. What this means for the reorganization of this fine institution? I can only speculate (probably in a later blog that I will entitle "Musical Chairs"). I do know that someone out there knows exactly how it will play out. He is keeping it mum.

I Could Cry But I Am Too Busy Laughing

I should be working on slides for the upcoming event we have planned here. Instead, I am taking some time to rant about stupid people. ARGH!!!!!!! There. Now I feel better. I think I have to admit to being stupid in that I grossly underestimated the stupidity of others. That is my bad. I never should have confused you by including in a different font the contents of the phishing attempt that was circulating. However, I thought it was clear with the use of bold and dramatic red coloring that this was indeed the fraudulent message that should be looked out for - not responded to. I was wrong. You do not read and comprehend the words.

I have been fortunate to have more than one example of gross stupidity. Friday morning many of my colleagues and I were delighted to read the "retirement" letter from a dumb ass. Now, I am including the letter w/ minor edits to protect the innocent and the delirious. Please DO NOT get confused and think that I wrote this! I am including this separate letter not written by me only for educational purposes. I am not announcing my displeasure or retirement - merely including the letter someone else wrote.

HERE is where the other person's text begins:
______________________________________________________________________________

August 6, 2009

Ladies and germs,

For all intents and purposes, on August 17th 2009 I shall be considered officially “retired” with my 10 years+ of state service. Notice that it is “retired” and not “resigned” as I am not quitting I am leaving for better opportunities as this one has long run out. After starting 10+ years ago (and in reality, 15 years ago) as a temporary student worker it’s been the proverbial ‘long and winding road’ to get to this point but it’s time to do something with my life that rewards my unique skills and efforts a little more than just being "the" lowest paid employee in the NOC after the past 5 years here at XXX specifically. Obviously hard work, assuming (implied) future responsibility and general honesty are not recipes for success here. I want to specifically thank XXXXXX for being a type who doesn’t keep his words and apparently has rampant memory losses when it comes to things he says he’ll do or when I personally get “framed” irrationally for making work related mistakes that upper management themselves created on at least 3 separate occasions he has no “previous instance experience of and/or recollection skills” to apply to repeated situations thereafter. As the end user of that for a good 2-3 years, I can’t tell you how frustrating it was to repeat the same bogus scenario many times over with the same nonproductive outcome. No growth, no common ground, no attempts at making real peace or solving problems. I felt like the adult dealing with toddlers, but having to wear the diaper. Fact is, on all of those 3 specific occasions to railroad me you were WRONG and I was RIGHT again so I guess the truth does sort of lend itself a hand sometimes. Each time and again, just DUMB and DUMBER on your part. Probably a product of an absentee landlord work ethic. The “I have no idea what’s going on cause I’m never here” approach that you always used as your argument trump card is really lame in retrospect. You’re the director, its your JOB TO KNOW. Not a lot of brainstorming needed to figure out what’s really going on there with a 3 person mismanagement crew that can’t get it right the 3rd time either. Just remember that much of what you accomplished and maybe you will have learned something after all. You’ve definitely given me great examples of what not to follow, each of you uniquely, as I would never allow myself as you have to be negligent or abusive in my professional duty in the management of others in which YOU get paid very well to (not) do on the fat taxpayer dime. “We” aren’t getting our money’s worth, obviously. Some of the managers here aren’t even fit to run the local McDonald’s. I know, because I worked at McDonald’s for the first two years of my working life. Overall, better management skills found at a McDonald’s in my opinion. I do know this much, a manager that can’t solve office disputes with 2 other managers around and only one employee (me) to manage using simple communication and follow through should be working the fry machine somewhere. As it sits in that way, we have to hold hope that the people are real hungry for fries. Anyway back to the point at hand, as I don’t want to waste any more time being reasonably nice about it. I am now reenrolled full time at Southeastern and start back on Aug. 20th towards my Psych degree, which is something that I am genuinely interested in and have been for a while now. I am sure I can draw upon my many colorful dealings with corporate mismanagement figures in the future of my field work study somehow. Either way, I’m just excited to finally be moving on and leaving this nonsense behind me where it belongs. *flush* It’s a great feeling that I’ve waited too long to know again. I have many side projects and aspirations that have been on hold for a while now that I will also finally be getting kicked off, just like I said they would over a year ago. As respectable men keep their words true, disrespectable ones do not. (ahem) In closing, there is no doubt that I have nothing but kind thoughts and words for some of you that I'll miss here but for the rest of yas I do bid adieu and bons débarras!

(please excuse my ‘French’)

Dumbass McDumber
IT bottom rung placeholder 3

_______________________________________________________________
HERE is where the letter ends!!!!!


Now I am back writing - me - Sadie. I did not write the letter that is clearly blocked off and in italics. I AM writing this now. I know. It is confusing.

The point of this exercise is to share with you, gentle reader, this tale of stupidity and let you read a poorly written career-stomping letter of resignation. Don't do what Dumbass McDumber did. If you do not like your job, simply go and get a better one. If you feel that you must spill your guts publicly, get someone to proof-read. There is nothing worse than a gut-spilling filled with poor sentence structure and verbs that don't match the nouns.

Priorities

Football is king at our school. This is followed closely by basketball and baseball. We are an SEC school and we value our athletics program. Since if you google the institution or search YouTube for material about the school, you will find football and then some other sports-related material en masse, it makes sense that you would align university relations with Athletics. Obviously they have been doing something right in terms of marketing. It is sort of the "if we can't beat them, let's join them" mentality. If people are going to say we are a football school (and they always have but we are no longer a top 20 party school) then let's give up on pretending any differently. Athletics is a key part of the university experience so now we have a vice chancellor for athletics. That means that we are being honest in our priorities. Well, actually we would make the football coach our chancellor if we were being truly honest - but he wouldn't like the pay cut.

EQ

A few weeks ago I participated in a three day seminar on Emotional Intelligence. I took a test and my results demonstrate that I have room to grow emotionally. Fortunately I already knew that. I also feel quite strongly that the value of EQ cannot be easily dismissed. Sure part of me has the same reaction as many of you - what are we going to talk about our feelings, hold hands and sing? However the other part of me - the more emotionally grounded and mature side (the side I keep very well hidden)recognizes that being emotionally savvy is what leads to success. Many of you wonder what we talked about over three days. Mostly we talked about you. Actually we discussed the ill effects of toxic people on work environments, understanding the role that emotional baggage plays in communication, and opportunities for individuals to grow and become more savvy in their communications. For instance, it is not a good idea to treat a complete idiot like you think they are a complete idiot. Sure they are dumber than dirt and it pisses you off that you have to deal with them. However dumb people don't like to be reminded of their failures. Really they should be admired. They have gotten by on shear luck and their ability to convincingly deflect their inadequacies. The dumber someone is, the nicer your tone should be (not condescending and keep all frustration out of your voice). What keeps people from succeeding is not a lack of talent or smarts - its their inability to properly filter what they say and play nicely with others. Certainly I am infamous for some of the truths that fly out of my mouth. I had to learn that there is a time and a place. My filter is firmly in place at meetings with external folks. In fact I seem like a totally different person (to me at least). Packets of my wisdom only pop out when I want them to for strategic reasons - that is a function of EQ.

Stop Me If You've Heard This One Before

I have very few fears in life... rats, blinding poverty, rats, and winding up like a few other women that I know (did I say rats?). I've been to therapy so I no longer fear becoming my mother. I am way too much like my father for that to happen anyway. And I am working to not grow up to be quite so him. There are a few women in the office that I am like, "please god, strike me down with an anvil immediately" if I become like them. They are the busybody, the spazz, and the lost one. I take care of myself (okay, my roots are getting scary) for the most part and I am trying to live a healthy, happy life so hopefully I won't end up like the spazz. You should not be able to smell me coming and want to gag. I shouldn't become the lost one. My mind is wonderfully intact. Yes, I admit I have my retarded moments (I could not find bubble breaker on my new device because I forgot to look under games) but they are generally cute, right? Its the busybody that I mostly fear becoming. You know the one that likes to impose rules and enforce them like a 2nd grade teacher? See, I have the inclination to get into everyone's business and provide valuable but unsolicited advice. I need to not do that so often, I think. I like some rules, but I don't like stupid rules. Why for instance does the "fire door" downstairs have to be closed and locked? I'm pretty sure that "closed" would suffice per fire codes. But I am not the keeper of these rules and regulations. Instead, I get to complain about them. And while I know that the same people leave gross stuff in the fridge for months at a time - I am not out to "get them" for breaking rules. I just think they are dirty and gross. I have no need to share my findings. I like knowing. Its my secret and their shame. So as long as I keep stuff to myself, complain and don't enforce - I should be safe. Right?
PS... roots will be gone on Saturday.

Yes, I have a problem with that

I do not like getting needlessly confrontational emails especially ones that are broadcast to the entire organization. It pisses me off for an entire week. So a certain gentleman decided to get serious about our need to recycle. We have apparently not been doing this properly. Fine, send out a friendly reminder about the process for recycling. Do not threaten to "take names" - I'm like, so? Oooh... I am going to get into trouble if I throw away a box instead of flattening it and placing it in the recycling bin. What exactly are you planning to do with this list of names? Tattle? To whom? What supervisor is going to deny a promotion or lay off someone because they failed to properly recycle a box? Should I expect this as part of my regular employment review? Am I going to get a talking to? Do I care? If it is from you... well I have the finger ready. Perhaps there will be a shame list placed on the lunchroom's bulletin board? Again, big deal. I am now likely to not recycle simply to see what you will do. I dislike being threatened. It gets my hackles up and unleashes the petty 16 year old rebel inside me. And she can cause a lot of grief. Fortunately the ability to send out threatening broadcasts can be taken away......Like how I end it in a threat? Doesn't feel good, does it?

A poem? Ode to the puddle

Oh mystery puddle
how do you do?
Did someone's inability
to aim make you, you?
I don't understand how
you came to be
Between the door and the seat
is nowhere to pee.
And yet there you sit
taunting all around
But you're still better
than shit right there on the ground

Some People

Spoke to my stepmother over the 4th of July weekend. She and my dad are watching my step-nephew and nieces because their mom is recovering from surgery and their dad has decided he is no longer interested in being a father. What a dick. After over a decade of marriage and three beautiful kids, he has decided to walk away from his marriage and his responsibilities. You don't want to be married anymore? Fine. But you don't get to just stop being a father... especially when the kids need you. Be a fricking man already. Grandma and Grandpa should not have to step up and be stand-in parents because you have teen feelings. The kids can sleep over at your new bachelor pad while your soon to be ex-wife recovers from the hysterectomy necessitated in part by giving birth to your children (you know the ones you wanted at the time). They should not become the responsibility of people who already did their part... raising their own children.
The decision to have a family - to have children is not a something you did on a whim. The three kids were not accidents. You and your wife decided that you wanted a family together. Beyond your simple marriage vows, you made a commitment to the children to be a father and to your wife to co-parent. If you don't want to be a parent, then keep it wrapped up and make sure your partner knows she will be on her own before conception takes place. It is more honest.

Well now that is just wrong

I have to confess, I have a severely wicked sense of humor. I am that person that when she hears someone pumping in the rest room is tempted to moo. It's true. I don't do it... well, just silently in my head. Now, I am actually pro-breast feeding. I think it is the right way to go and I admire nursing moms for their dedication to their children. Its just something about the noise that the electronic milking machines make that immediately takes me back to my childhood and that tour of the dairy farm. The other completely inappropriate impulse I have involves the individual I loving refer to as "crazy runner lady." This poor crazy woman who cannot possible have an actual job as she is constantly running through the neighborhood and across town is actually quite ill. The largest part of her body is her calf muscle. I kid you not. She obviously has some sort of horrible mental problem like anoxeria or body dysmorphia. She looks horrible. You can be too skinny. Her face is all sunken in and I'm sure she looks years older than her age. I want to yell things like "Move your fat ass" from the comfort of my car. There. I said it. I am a bit evil. In the words of SBC, "Build a bridge and get over it."

Yes, I am am that crazy....

For the last decade I have been taking 50 mg of a drug called trazodone each and every night. I started taking the drug to curb panic attacks and help me sleep without worrying about the cats accidentally catching fire. (hey, it could happen) Now, ten years later, I no longer have a stressful job, my life is happy and harmonious, I exercise regularly and I figure let's try and wean off of it. I know not to go cold turkey so I cut the dosage in half and for a week try taking just 25mg each night. I was fine until day 5. That's when my brain started to hum. I was still sleeping pretty well, but by the end of the day, I was distracted and a bit distant. My brain was not functioning on all cylinders or maybe it was working on too many at the same time. I just don't know. But my husband kept giving me that worried look and asking if I were okay - that's my trigger for knowing that I am not. So last night I took the full 50. My neurochemistry is still not back to where it should be, but I am confident I will be fine in a few days.

Gasp!

So one of our oldest and somewhat revered deans has been charged by the police with petty theft of University funds. Now theft is something I just never really understood. Sure, I have used the fax machine to send a personal fax, take the occasional personal call on my University phone, and have taken an envelope to mail something not work related, but I would never steal money. Furthermore, as someone who was responsible for millions of dollars at one time, I understood that there were checks in place to catch this sort of thing. Only a complete idiot would steal from the University and think s/he would get away with it. You leave a paper trail. Every dollar has to be accounted for - where it goes and who authorized it. Then to use one's university-sponsored personal account to "hide" the money was really dumb. What I don't understand is why her business office and the University let her get away with this practice for so long. It is not like she needed the money. Since it was the same amount of money each year, I bet this is one of those stupid things where she thought she could use the funds for purchases that were loosely program related at least in her mind. Perhaps she bought shirts for everyone in the program or something that wasn't kosher within State law. I can see her doing something reasonably stupid like that. But the amounts of money wouldn't cover her car note - she drives a Mercedes. Now her 30 years of service to the University are down the drain and instead of celebrating her retirement, the University will try to forget she even existed.

Why Concealed Carry is Not for Me

It was not a good way to start my work day. I am talking about my drive in. I had a fine time earlier this morning snuggling with Jack and getting ready for work. The drive in however involved three separate drivers who thought 30 miles per hour in a 40 was just fast enough. Are you frickin kidding me?! Its not a case of there being a good deal of traffic or we're headed to a red light anyway. Nope. In all three cases it was simply retarded drivers out to get me. I think as I am driving behind these morons that the world would be a much better place without their genes. I am pretty sure that I should be allowed to shoot them. Hence, the title of this rant.

Really????

Our school has one of the best music programs in the country. I am not bragging. It is simply a fact. We had the John Lennon Bus come to campus and our best and brightest music students showed off their skills. They made a video that all can see thanks to YouTube and the John Lennon bus site. I get that the song itself was supposed to be artsy. Well done. I don't understand why there was not a frickin voice student doing the vocals. It sounds like shit. We are known for our voice majors. Why then is the bass violist singing? He is flat and atonal. It is an embarrassment. Phew. Glad to get that off my chest.

You Gotta Be Kidding

So, tales of the Webmaster has been an ongoing theme in my writings but mostly on one of my other blogs. This story goes in the vent blog (this one!). I spend a few minutes each day (now that I no longer have a student worker) going through the Webmaster account. Most of the inquiries (aside from the spam) are for other departments. People send in requests for info on admissions and whatnot. Unfortunately some of the folks I forward messages to would reply directly to the Webmaster account as opposed to reading it through and replying directly to the original sender. So I started writing in colored text "Please do no reply to the Webmaster." Well, that was getting overlooked. So I started writing it in Times New Roman 18 so it wouldn't be missed. Bear in mind, I feel like a total asshole every time I do this. But it was working. Until today. Some choad that works across campus took the time to delete the "Please do not reply to Webmaster" message and then reply to me rather than the person whose name s/he got wrong!!!!! Fucking idiot.

Doesn't Take Long

Well, after 7 days with a baby, I have lost the art of adult conversation. I now speak "parent." It involves looking simultaneously happy, stressed, and exhausted. It also involves talking about "the baby" or your life with the baby. I knew it was all over when I found myself talking about baby poop with my neighbor - he has a 5 month old. Yes, I was standing there in front of my 21 yr old sister (she was fortunate to witness this debacle)chatting away about poop. I have opinions about baby poop. How did this happen?! Oh, yes... it took 7 days with a baby. Will I be able to converse again? Will my life have purpose and meaning without a baby? What will I be like after next week when I return to being the professional me for a full work week?

What a Difference 4 Days Make

I was carded yesterday at the Albertsons. I have lost count of how many times just this year that this has happened to me. It has happened a record amount. The guy yesterday was shocked by just how very legal I am. That felt good. Two years ago a woman who carded me insisted that the only way I stayed so young looking was that I didn't have kids. They age you. I spent the last week - Tuesday thru Friday being a caregiver for my now 3 month old niece. I feel old, oh-so-tired, and in need of alcohol. (hence the trip to Albertsons)
Rowan is a three-month old diva. She does not fuss. She screams. Until you give her what she wants and then she coos and impresses you with her cuteness. My life has become centered around her schedule and her needs. I smell like baby spit-up and diaper cream. I give her constant attention except for the few hours she sleeps. I love those hours of quiet. I don't live for them though. I live for the minutes where she is smiling and blowing spit bubbles that inevitably drop onto my shirt. I understand how exhausting it all is, but wow, is it worth it!

Weddings are fun and marriages are wonderful

Jack and I got to attend a wedding on Friday night. We really enjoy them. It gives us a chance to reminisce about our own wedding (which is kind of a blur) and we wind up laughing and commenting excessively through the ceremony.This wedding in particular was a fun one. The officiant was conversant and provided a lot of practical advice that we believed in.
The last outside weddings we attended were at a plantation down by the river. They were memorable because of the extreme nature of outdoor weddings. The first one was plagued by mosquitoes so everyone (bride and groom included) spent the entire ceremony hitting themselves and then were coated in blood and dead bugs. The last one suffered from a freak cold snap. The wind was blowing and everyone was huddled up against one another. The one Friday night was absolutely perfect. It was warm but not too hot and the mosquitoes hadn't started feasting yet. I hope this is a good omen for their married life.

Warning: I'm About to Get Political

With apologies in advance to my conservative friends (yes, I do have and love them), I just have to vent politically for a bit.
Apparently our education system (albeit a liberal agenda item) has failed horribly. I grew up in a conservative house hold (Army Catholic)and I was fortunate that my Department of Defense Dependent School education is one of the best (oh irony of ironies). However the rest of the nation was not so lucky. Conservatives today cannot do math. There I said it. The majority of the self-identifying conservatives who are outraged at Obama's "tax and spend" agenda and are participating in the "Tea Parties" just received the largest tax cut ever and will have more spending money in their take home pay then ever before. Simple math. Yes, the deficit is increasing, but the amount in question is mathematically negligible compared to the deficits we had under both Bushes and Reagan. It took a tax and spend Clinton to generate a surplus - and yes, he did it through increasing the taxes on the middle class. As someone who paid those taxes and lived through the years of inflation, I understood the need.
The term "fiscal conservative" is one that I actually embrace. However, the majority of people who think they are "fiscal conservatives," well to quote Inigo Montoya, "I do not think the word means what you think it means." Fiscal conservatives want spending to be wise and frugal. This is not something we had in the "conservative" Bush years - either of them. Going from a surplus to a deficit is inexcusable. But what horrifies me is that none of that money spent was an investment in our future; none of it would result even theoretically in future growth. Where were the conservatives the last 8 years when this mess started? Not throwing tea parties.
Yes, Obama is increasing the taxes on those who make over $250K a year. Yet, his increases still mean that a person making over 250K pays LESS in taxes than the did under both Reagan and Bush. My brother (who did not receive the same DoDDs education I did) represents what I assume to be the majority of lower and middle class conservatives. He does not want taxes to increase on the wealthy because one day he might make over 250K. Again, it comes back to that pesky inability to do math. The chances of a person without logical reasoning skills and a college degree making over 250K a year legally are not statically probable.
There. I vented. But I don't feel any better. And I will continue to giggle every time I hear of someone "tea bagging."

Losing Ground

For those of you keeping track at home, I hit my first marker for running. I made it to the end of the street (twice). That's right. I can now run all the way down my street (uphill - slightly). My chest and throat are burning, but I make it. My next goal is to make it up the street and around the corner. Feel the burn. Pain is failure leaving the body. I hate pain. But I hate being out of shape more. At this rate I will be able to run a mile by the time I am forty.

Who Am I?

So the world of Facebook has become overwhelmed by quizzes galore. These quizzes are designed (and I use that term very loosely - in fact let's put it in quotes, "designed") to uncover aspects of your personality and assign them qualities. I have found out what color I am (yellow), punctuation mark (the semicolon) and type of shoe (stripper heels). I now know that I am both Buffy and River Tam from Firefly - so you had better watch out. I kick ass. And yesterday I discovered that I am as good an astronomer as my friends with doctorates in astronomy (hey, that's what the quiz said). This is what happens when non-professionals design survey tools. Sure, it is more fun to only answer 5-10 multiple choice questions than take a professionally developed assessment tool - just so long as the tool (ha, ha I said tool) approximately measures what it claims to measure. I am alright being the crazy ass-kicker. I know very little actual astronomy - and the test knew even less. I like stripper shoes. What I object to is the color yellow. I am not a sunny personality. Whoever came up with this quiz is a moron. How sunny is that?! You are a fucking moron color quiz maker.
Another thing, yesterday, I took what type of feminist are you and got ecofeminist Vandana Shiva. I don't hug trees. Now I have to find out what decade I am.....

Sigh....

So, I had a harsh dose of reality yesterday. Here I am struggling to get to the point where I can run all the way down my friggin street without imploding, while my friend is training for a marathon. This should not be such a big deal. I have friends that are athletic and they have been runners for years. They are better people than I am. I accept them and only hate them a little bit. I have my excuse of years of laziness and over-eating to overcome. No, my friend in question, has just finished surgery #14 and runs with a poo bag. Yes, the woman that cannot eat and digest food like the rest of us... the woman who has had her guts cut up and worked on over a dozen times in less than 2 years - she is working on her marathon. She and her poo bag can run circles around me. Yes, she has been athletic forever (I assume) but after all of those surgeries, I would be in bed with a pain patch. She is running a few miles a day. Sigh. I am a terrible, terrible person. But one day I will be a terrible person who can run a mile, but probably not a marathon.

Goal Setting

This Friday I go in for my yearly exam. I am not looking forward to it. As most of you know by now, I have been obsessively trying to lose weight and get fit for a few months. My efforts have been increasing as I near my appointment or as I call it "D-Day." I stepped up my cardio to include a mile run/walk nearly every day. When it is rainy, I stay inside and do a workout on my elliptical or from the free zone on Cox.
Needless to say, my run/walk is still not a run. My goal was to be able to run a 8 min mile.... until I started the process. Now, my goal is to run a mile. And that feels ambitious and is fairly painful. I now do a series of dashes to a spot ahead and then a walk to catch my breath and the cycle repeats itself. I start off running and can usually make it a complete block before I have to walk. One day, I will make it all the way down my street. But I doubt that day is today. Maybe next week? It is all about goal setting and trying to make it work.
I even run in my dreams now... only my legs often feel tired and I am in pain even in my sleep.

Baby Time

So as many of you know, I am so looking forward to my three weeks in May as chief child care provider for my then three month old niece. I love spending time with little babies. They are just so sweet, and unlike my three year nephew (whom I love!!!!) they don't need so much active attention and can't talk. But they can listen. My niece is an especially gifted listener. She stares and makes cooing noises and looks so damned earnest. I will have her on Friday for a few hours while my brother and sister-in-law deal with a small medical procedure. I plan to bring her to campus and introduce her to the office. We'll see.
We have been talking about possibly having our own little baby. Right now simply would not be convenient. I want to be able to enjoy my niece and nephew and not have to split time with my own kid. Also, I have a young and crazy puppy who would not do well with a baby. Not sure he ever would. I am about to turn 35 and realize that my clock is ticking, but I am not about to panic and rush something that I am comfortable without right now.

Only Me...

Funny thing happened to me last week. I accidentally signed up to participate in the American Cancer Society's Relay for Life. The Relay is held from 6pm to 6am Friday night into Saturday. Anyone who knows me, knows that I am asleep on Friday before 9pm. I start to get crabby and need to lie down around 8. But, not this Friday! This Friday my butt will be walking around the Parade Grounds in support of my dear friend who has the cancer. (That's right, the cancer.) I believe I have signed up for the critical 2am - 6:30am shift. I figure this way, since I am going to be miserable and crabby, I might as well have gotten at least some sleep... 8pm -1:30am is a good 5 hours.
So, how does one accidentally sign up for a relay? Only I could do such a thing. I wanted to give money so I clicked "Join Me" - thinking I was joining my friend's team by giving her money. Yes, I am an idiot. I did not realize until the site was talking about a tee-shirt and my $10 entrance fee that I had in fact signed up to relay. It would be bad karma to back away from this so I won't. Besides, this gives me an excuse to eat pizza this week. I am excited about supporting my friend with the cancer by being up with her and walking for 4.5 hours. The girl is on chemo - if she can do that and be there - I can not be lazy and grumpy for a night. I am actually glad that I accidentally did this. We'll see how I feel at 7am on Saturday.

Fat Stuffs

So, I have been getting mixed comments to my battle for my body. While I love hearing that I am gorgeous and don't need to lose weight, the reality is that I do. And it is only partially about looks. I admit that I want back the hot, toned body of my youth. I realize that things like gravity and age will make that impossible without surgical intervention - and no, I am not going there. I simply want to stop lugging around the extra 50 pounds (yes 50 frickin pounds) and be healthy. I don't want to be super thin. I simply want to be the correct BMI for my height and have a healthy fat index. I should not be made out of 40% blubber. Muscles are good. However, simply building muscle mass is not equating to loss of fat. (I so wish it would!) Hence, I am reducing my calories and increasing my cardio. Once I get to a healthy place where my body is no longer storing up for the famine, I hope to be able to enjoy increased calories again. In the meantime, I am thinking healthy thoughts and willing myself to a fitter body.

Catching Up

While the week began with drama it is ending with a hush. The office is eerily quiet. People are here working, but with quiet concentration. They are all getting ready for a long weekend I am sure.
I had a good day... two interviews with broadcasting students followed by lunch with my pal the nonconformist (I am still tasting chicken shawerma btw). This afternoon I had a painless meeting about a web site we are about to start designing. It was a full day but not a particularly busy one. Jack ran an important errand so I didn't have to and I got to see him for a brief exchange of kisses. All in all, it was a good day.
Tonight I will endeavor to do some more cardio and contemplate my next step in dietary restrictions - getting rid of the tortillas (my last remaining bread product). As much as I love tortillas - I am going to try to rid my diet of them as well. Empty calories and yeast. My sister rid her diet of all yeast and lost a ton of weight (and got clear skin). Maybe it will work for me. Can't hurt to try. Just might be a bit difficult for a while. And my skin could use the assistance.

Boy Am I Pissed

So after weeks (months) of eating right and exercising three times a week (twice with a trainer for 60 minutes a pop)- I am still a fat chick. I just saw pictures of me taken this weekend. I look heftier than ever. Confirming the fact: I weighed myself, I was still a whopping weight. So I am pissed about that. I hate being a fatty. I especially hate it when I have been working my ass off and my ass remains.
Next, today a colleague of mine informs me that 3 different people have mentioned to her a rumor involving me. I allegedly posted an offensive picture (in Twitter and/or Facebook)in reference to another colleague. How do prove that you did not do something when you are accused by three different people?! What did I do to piss off these three people? No one can show the picture (since it does not exist) but they can certainly describe it. I am pissed!!!!!!!!!

Sigh... I have to confess...

I hate making mistakes. I really hate being wrong. And I really hate when my mistakes are caught by others. I know intellectually that I am far from perfect and that I am not fooling anyone. I simply get embarrassed easily. Part of it stems from insecurity - someone I like may think I am a total idiot. Oh the horror. Anyway, I am spending my time today (when I am not wrestling with Dreamweaver) scraping away evidence. I let slip a typo in a publication that I just had printed. Can't pay to have it reprinted. I am literally taking a pin and scraping away the ink so it looks like a printing error and not a typo. Yes, I get paid to do this. Ha!

Thinking Alike

I have a feeling that the nonconformist and I may be thinking along the same lines here. Perhaps this will become a joint effort. Sometime we have to corral other people to keep our own sanity, remain employed, or just for the betterment of the world. That said, some people are not necessarily as skilled as others in doing this. A certification program should be established. It should be incorporated into managerial and leadership training courses. An appropriate acronym may be developed at a later time.
Lesson 1 - Identifying one who needs to be corralled. (includes a prerequisite "do I need to be corralled?" section)
Lesson 2 - Appropriate responses and reactions (emphasis on diplomacy and diversion)
Lesson 3 - Enhanced Tactics (when "Look over there!" does not cut it)
Lesson 4 - Coalitions (building a group of corrallers)
Lesson 5 - Pick your battles (knowing when to let it go)

That is enough for now.... will work on the certification exam next I think.

Our Student Newspaper is Clueless

The nation is wracked with unemployment and financial losses. The university is about to hemorrhage - facing staggering cuts from the state. What stories make the cover of the newspaper? A frisbee game and a professor with 780 pocket protectors.Fucking clueless.

Why I Hate Tattletales or Facebook Etiquette

Twitter and Facebook are spaces for talking about life (so is this blog by the way) which often includes venting about aspects of your life including co-workers. I keep my FB private, check out my followers on Twitter, and don't use real names in this blog. If you are in my circle of friends and confidantes, it is because I welcomed you there.
Recently one of my co-workers - one who does indeed drive me crazy - was told that some unflattering things were on Facebook about her. Her feelings were hurt and no doubt it will impact their working relationship. Now if this person's profile was not set to private and s/he placed hurtful material out there for the world - well, that is just stupid. But, if they were talking to trusted individuals - then I call a party foul.
I am severely disappointed in the individual that would go out their way to point out hurtful information. It is just childish tattling and serves no substantive place. The correct thing to do would be to approach the individual who posted and request s/he be a bit more discreet. The object should be to spare hurt feelings not exacerbate them.
No, I do not work in a kindergarten - although sometimes it may appear that way. Grow up people, get a thicker skin - I know I am talked about in some unflattering ways (and I know who is doing it - not because of a tattle tale, but because I know people.)
BTW, in the light of full disclosure... it was suggested that I may have been the source of the hurtful statement. I did indeed say something the effect of surviving a meeting with a specific individual. This is something I do regularly. Every meeting is one survive. I may have felt especially wary of meeting with this individual as it is hard to keep her on track. This is merely my reality. If an individual is that sensitive - which I do not think she is - well, there is no hope. And for the record, it was actually a pleasant meeting.

Money is the root of it all

If I could afford therapy I would not need it. My anxiety stems from a fear of financial exigency. I have been especially stressed about money lately. I had to write a series of checks for the Gustav damage (the amount exceeding what State Farm has so far paid up plus our hurricane deductible)at the same time that my American Express card's limit was drastically cut. The AMEX was not simply where we spent money on fun stuff but was also my safety net. I had tens of thousands of dollars available in credit just in case. No longer. So now I have to really pay down the blasted card for emergency use within the lower cap. We are using our savings to survive the month and still be able to enjoy some semblance of a social life. It sucks. This is on top of my every present fear that layoffs are coming and I will be out on my ass. I hate feeling expendable and vulnerable. It makes me neurotic and difficult to live with. I need to win the lottery and become less insane. Now would be nice.

Ready for Spring

While few people can say they look forward to the sweltering humid heat of a swampland summer, I am tired of the cold. I am done wearing a coat and bundling up at night with the heater blowing my hard-earned money away. I want to stop having chapped skin from the cold and the heat. I want to wear open toed shoes! I want to feel the sun lightly beating down on me as I walk across campus. Let me be clear, I am not ready for summer. My diet and exercise regime has not progressed to the point where I want to wear a bathing suit and bask in the sun pool-side. I simply want a very long spring. And I want it now.

Please Wash Your Frickin Hands!

The weekly swing from near 80 to lows near freezing means that everyone's immune system is challenged and nearly everyone has the sniffles. That said, we have a shared responsibility to mitigate the chances for spreading germs. Practicing good hygiene, for example, is one important way to not spread disease. So, why the hell aren't you washing your hands after you use the women's restroom? A thorough scrubbing of one's hands (tops, bottoms, in between fingers) in warm water with soap... that is all it takes. Really. For God's sake, just do it!

Respect the Dollar

I am faced with a bit of a dilemma. When looking for a contractor for all of the hurricane damage, I was thrilled to be able to hire a female-owned company (something that is fairly rare). I really like the contractor and the people at her office. They have been great to work with. What disturbs me are the attitudes of the current people in our house. The subcontractors are not respectful of each other. Unprofessional behavior is simply not acceptable. We don't want to hear people being disrespected in our house - certainly not by people working there. If they were guests, we would ask them to leave. Since they are subcontractors, we will wait for them to complete their work and then say something to the office. I will make it clear that while I have plenty of projects to be worked on (the bathroom is next!), I don't want some vocally xenophobic worker in our house. They can keep their thoughts to themselves.

This is Just Too Much

I have reached the point in my exercises where I cannot look at equipment without breaking out into a sweat. When I work out, I get gross. I have sweat dripping off of me. (I know... what an image, huh?) I am working out at the UREC yesterday. The classrooms are being used so I have my training in the main equipment room. I am on a mat. By the time my workout is over the mat and I are soaked. That is when I discovered the UREC was completely out of wipes as well as antibacterial spray. Completely. Out. The nice folks that worked there didn't seem to think it was a problem. All I could think of are the diseases I have just been exposed to. The list includes:
Hepatitis
Mono
Meningitis
Staph
Mersa
Scabies
Ringworm
Rhino virus

Ooh, and bacteria like e coli, salmonella, shingella.
Good times.

High Fructose Fun

Trying to avoid high fructose corn syrup is pretty difficult. Lots of yummy things are made with it. While most of them I had stripped from my diet earlier, I had two hold outs. One was the salad dressing as discussed yesterday. I switched to balsamic vinegar and olive oil. That way I have no worries about the additives and calories. Olive oil is a good fat. The other was Kleinpeter chocolate milk. Why? Please Kleinpeter, just use cane sugar to sweeten it. I had to switch to Promised Land. I would prefer to support my local industry. Of course, Kleinpeter isn't supporting our sugar cane growers since they use high fructose corn syrup (not something we grow here - I am guessing). I guess I will feel less bad then. Fuck em.

The Saga Continues

According to the scale at the grandparents' house, I have lost 5 pounds of the ten that I managed to find over the holiday. For those of you counting at home, this means I have only 40 pounds more to lose.
I have been floundering a bit on my diet and exercise regime. A trip to Shreveport, the need to catch up with friends over dinner/drinks, and the bottles of champagne left over from NYE have been conspiring to undermine my progress. Time to get back to being serious. No more Whole Foods cookies. Alcohol in moderation. Also, I decided to remove high fructose corn syrup from my diet. Man, it is in everything yummy! No kidding, including my delicious Asian sesame salad dressing from Kraft. I simply cannot eat anything with the label Kraft on it. Sigh. On the plus side, I can eat Altoids so my breath should be minty fresh as I suffer and become a thinner, mintier me. Yes, I can!

Obsession is Sexy

My craziness has taken on a new turn - one that I am embracing (well, actually doing that kind of awkward hug you do to a relative stranger who thinks of you as a soon-to-be BFF, but you are still not sure). I am queen of healthy living. I have been neurotic about what I am putting in my food hole for a whopping three days now (see my food blog for details)and I am already feeling better. I think I spotted one of my ribs this morning! That sucker has not been seen this century. After being good for so long and consistently exercising for the first time in my life (since August?), I now feel a smidgeon of hope that I will become leaner (but not meaner - that one's covered).

Stress Kills

So I am pretty pissed off at my body right now. I feel it is betraying me. Despite my watching what I eat and exercising regularly, I managed to gain another 10 lbs in the last month. Sure there were cookies at hand, and I ate my fair share... but come on! 10 fucking pounds from two and a half dozen cookies over the course of a month? Especially when I stopped drinking soda and decreased my alcohol consumption... except for the the parties. Too many parties! They must be making me fat. Anyway, my body is in some major trouble right now. I am off of juices (except my 4 -6 oz of orange juice in the morning), avoiding cookies and king cake, massively reducing the number of times I go out to eat, and exercising daily. I have my physical on April 3rd and I refuse to be fifteen pounds heavier than last year. Fuck you cookies. Fuck you yummy champagne.
Anyway, the control issues that logically go along with weight gain have resulted in some interesting dreams. Last night we were staying at a hotel and people kept walking through the room using it as a passage way. I was physically trying to stop them. It was very frustrating. I got another room, and there was room service. They wanted to charge 400 dollars for a bowl of ice cream. Then they only charged a dollar since I had such a bad time of it. The concierge had shopped for me - masses of clothes that I couldn't wear.
The night before I dreamed that I was back in high school, but hanging out in Europe with a very posh crowd. I was at an estate and I kept losing my shoes. I was going sailing , had to deal with some very snobby people and paperwork. Then I could not find the damn boat... the dock was a total maze. I had lost the group trying to find my shoes. Anyway, both dreams were full of wonderful detail and imagery. I learned a lot from them both....