Tag Archives: random thoughts

The Liebster Award! a.k.a. Cube Cat, Aliens, and Grammatically Correct Memes

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I am embarrassingly late in responding to this generous nomination from Chris at Surviving the Specter.  Which is actually OK, as I am never on time for anything.  If I’m ever on time, or early, please assume what you are seeing is an alien apparition of me, and blast me to confetti with lasers.  For the planet.

Anyhoo….the award.  Chris was kind enough to link to some history behind this, so I’m stealing that to share, too.  GO TO HERE FOR HISTORY KTHX

liebsterpicSo, like all awards, this one has some rules, too:

liebsterpic_001OK, if we’ve met…that is too many rules.  And I get to the middle of #2 before I suddenly remember it’s been a REALLY long time since I made pie, and speaking of pie, my cat is so fat that he’s no longer round…he’s…a box.  I know cats like to SIT in boxes, but…WHOA MY CAT IS MAGICAL AND MORPHED INTO A SIZE 14 NIKE AIR BOX

OllieboxAdmittedly, without the swoosh.  Seriously, though, the dude needs backup lights.  I’m a terrible cat momma.

<slap> Focus.  RULES!

OK…did #1 already.  Here are Chris’s questions for me:

1.   In what state and/or country do you live (if outside the U.S.)?  I commute daily between the state of Confusion and the state of Denial.  Geographically, I grew up in PA, but nine years ago, moved here:

stay-for-the-car

 AND EVERY JANUARY I QUESTION MY SANITY.  <sigh>

2.   What is your favorite genre of music and THE band that goes with it?
OK, there is NO WAY I can pick just one.  What I like depends on the barometric pressure, the moon phase, and how much I weigh today. 

When I sing (did I mention I’m in a band?) I love ballads and good, throaty jazz.  On the radio I love P!nk and Ed Sheeran – I totally want to fix up my daughter with him, so they can have a flock of adorable redheaded baby girls and start a traveling quintet.  (She’s seventeen; it’s almost legal.  I just want what’s best for me her, ya know?)

3.   What is a life quote of yours?  I posted about this before – it’s also my favorite shirt:

shirtfront4.   Where do you find solace?  Like that corny Johnny Lee song, I look for it in all the wrong places – at the bottom of a giant bag of popcorn, inside a cereal box, in the arms of Ben and Jerry.  I don’t ever FIND it there (you’d think I’d learn to look somewhere else first….)

Where I actually FIND it varies.  In nature, it’s around water, or around giant rocks.  Sometimes it’s at the end of a run, hike, or a bike ride.  Sometimes it’s on the clearance rack at the shoe store.  Oh – and in butterflies.  Seeing a butterfly makes me feel peaceful.  I have convinced myself that butterflies are spirits coming to check on me to make sure I’m doing OK. (Sorry, Grandma, for bouncing you off my windshield the other day.  Love you.)

5.   What are three triggers you have?  Well, if I’m in *that* mood, I can make anything a trigger.  But through therapy (and wild guesses) I have identified some common triggers that make me feel fat AND give me an insatiable desire for ice cream, popcorn, and an entire jar of peanut butter:

  • Feeling irrelevant among my loved ones (especially the kids when they don’t “need” me.) 
  • Feeling self-conscious or un-confident. 
  • Any of HALT:  Getting too hungry, angry, lonely, or tired.  Or hormonal.  But that ruins the cool acronym.  THALH?  HALT-H? (uh, no, that sounds like a hemorrhoid cream.  Let’s just stick to HALT and assume hormones are in the mix.)

6.   Insert your favorite meme in the space below- Well, it’s NOT the one above.  That one just makes me sad.  And cold.  I like this one better:

helltoupee(Note that I got the little booger thing over the E there.  I keep it classy, yo.)

7.   What is a coping mechanism you use to combat your mental situation? I do my best to take care of myself – getting regular exercise and adequate sleep (or trying; some nights it’s more like “well, just lie here and rest….SHUT UP, BRAIN, your ONLY JOB for the next seven hours is to BREATHE.”  Suffice it to say it doesn’t always work.  OK, it hardly ever works.) 

I also try to remind myself that it’s cyclical; I know Sunday nights will be bad, as will every 4th or 5th week.  I just keep repeating to myself, “In a few days, this will be better….” over and over again.  I really should write myself some Post-It notes or something, right?

Oh, and I swear.  A lot.  Violently, rapidly, and voraciously.  F#@% YEAH!

8.   When you sit down to write a blog post, where does your inspiration come from?  Alien probes, subliminal messages from the government, pesticides, and high fructose corn syrup.  Or the hubs, my Facebook feed, funky shoes, and my cats.  (I’m not anywhere near as deep as a Pennsylvania pothole.)

9.   Right here, right now, say something to the person who has hurt you the most, beginning with, “I promise to…”  I promise to not junk-punch you if I ever see you again.  Mentally (as I mentioned elsewhere today) I’ll be dumping week-old clam chowder on your head, but I promise to appear to be cordial.  You KNOW that’s generous; I suggest you take it and back away slowly.

10. What one regret do you hold onto that you wish you could let go of?  I sincerely wish I had been kinder to my college boyfriend. 

He was my first relationship after a badly broken heart, and I used the relationship with him to play out all my anger, anxieties, and frustrations of the prior one.  I relentlessly messed with his head and repeatedly broke his heart – simply because my former boyfriend had broken mine.  Essentially, I used the poor guy to get my revenge on my prior love.  I know it was a crappy thing to do, but I was far too broken myself to recognize it. 

So Dean, if you’re out there, I’m sorry – you were a decent fellow who always deserved so much better. 

11. What’s the most valuable piece of advice someone has given to you?  “You miss all the shots you don’t take.”  Apply for that job, ask that guy out, bid on the shoes!  The answer is always NO unless and until you ask!  

OK, so now I have to list some folks to take on my questions list.  I’m sure you’ll find this stimulating and thought-provoking.  <snort>

  1. What is your favorite shoe?  (If you can’t answer this, we cannot be friends.)
  2. You won a million dollars.  What random gift would you send me?  (Wine is never the wrong answer)
  3. If you were going to go to a deserted island, and could only take three things, WHY WOULD YOU GO IN THE FIRST PLACE?
  4. What’s the scariest thing on your bucket list – and when are you doing it?
  5. What movie, song, or comic book hero most closely represents YOU/your life?
  6. What did you want to be when you grew up?
  7. You have to give up one of your five senses.  Which do you sacrifice and why?
  8. You have a seven-week sabbatical from work – paid time off.  Whatcha gonna do?
  9. What skill do you wish you had?
  10. What do you find most intimidating?  Most motivating?
  11. Do you believe in ghosts, spirits, the afterlife?  Why or why not?

NOMINEES:

whereshappy

tatisgalaxy

sinsandsecrets

peaceof8

8 + 3 = 11 so I think we’re all done here.  School of Close Enough gives me a B+, so…peace out, y’all.  🙂

What Your Incessant Quiz-Taking Says About You

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Unless you live under a rock – one not equipped with satellite internet – you’ve probably stumbled upon a veritable potpourri of assessments, quizzes, and tests.  My social media streams are absolutely polluted with them; trying to purge your feed of their appearance is as productive as attempting to cure Rapunzel of head lice – no matter what you pick, spray, smother, block, and hide, MORE JUST KEEP HATCHING.

Most of these are “entertainment only” (read: meaningless time suck) and have become a bit of an invasive species, subject to a quick “share” and “forward.”  (Even on LinkedIn.  Come ON, people, that’s the ONE corner of the internet that should be a save haven from “Which Kardashian Is Your Style Icon?”)

But others are actually somewhat – and surprisingly – insightful.

1.  The Glorified Horoscope.  These are the zebra mussels of the internet.  Once your social media stream gets infected, you either have to burn all the boats and set fire to the ocean, or just try to wait for it all to eventually, slowly die off.

You’ve probably experienced this:  one of your Facebook friends takes a quiz, and “shares” the results, inviting you to take the quiz, too.  By day’s end, roughly 42% of your friends have shared THEIR results, and the thing spreads like a bad stomach bug, barfing all over your NPR newsfeed and obscuring the new pictures of Pluto.  Just when you think it’s petered out for good, your mother’s results pop up on your feed, and then all of HER friends get in on the game.  Sigh.

These quizzes claim, in a matter of minutes, to offer you valuable insight and self-awareness as to

<insert mystical music and cloud of patchouli>

~WHO YOU REALLY ARE~

Yes, it’s true – in moments, you can find out which character from Friends you are – AND which one you should date, or what your taste in seashells, color patterns, or flowers indicates about what’s really going on inside your noggin.

We all know that these are nonsense, right?

Well, apparently, Monica was spot-on marrying Chandler, and lily lovers are wickedly independent and have killer shoe collections.  I mean, HELLO! <ring ring> Validation calling!

(Okay.  I took a few.  Don’t judge.  You know YOU wanted to.)  <runs to the interwebz to find out the correlation between Shredded Wheat and my penchant for backpacks>

The beauty of these things is that they’re as substantive as cotton candy, and the descriptions are written in such a way that a good hunk of them can pretty much apply to anyone.  Like daily horoscopes and fortune cookies, they’re closer to “one size fits all” than any piece of clothing can ever claim to be.

2.  I’m psychic and/or magical.  There are some other “quizzes” that claim to

<cue filmy scarves and hammered dulcimer tones>

~READ YOUR MIND~

Here’s one example:  Pick Pocket Money Trick.  Use this on your friends and you can MAGICALLY guess how old they are AND how much change they have in their pockets!

MAGIC.  I’m sure Ellen’s people will TOTALLY be begging you to be on her Tuesday show. <eyeroll>

People – this isn’t “neat” or “clever.”  IT’S MATH.  If Common Core focused on teaching THIS kind of logic, maybe we’d be raising a society of rational human beings instead of a plethora of entitled, egocentric, everyone-gets-a-trophy, forever-on-Mom’s-insurance-and-cell-phone-plan progeny.

But I digress.  Because I’m a geek (see Shredded Wheat, above) I actually convert these things into algebraic equations FOR FUN.

So here we go.  Let’s say I’m 29 (SHUT IT) and that I have 76 cents in my pocket.

  • Age (A) = 29
  • Coins (C) = 76

We also know that the answer is a four-digit number – so “the first two digits” means your age times 100 – this pushes your age into the thousands and hundreds column, and  will leave the last two digits (the tens and the ones) for coinage.  Our formula looks like this:

((2A+5)*50)-365+C+115 = 100A+C

Let’s solve the parenthetical expression on the left:

100A + 250 – 365 + C + 115 = 100A + C

Now let’s math out the numbers that don’t have A or C on them – 250-365+115.  Guess what that equals?  ZERO.

100A + C + 0 = 100A + C

See?  Wasn’t that fun?

Side note:  I was a math major for a whopping three days.  Still got it.  <strut strut>

If the above was complete gibberish to you – well, you probably have other talents.  Like maybe you can parallel park, or get past level 452 in Candy Crush.  Or maybe you’re just really pretty.  🙂

3.  Insightful Personality Assessments.  If the above just isn’t doing it for you, there really are some fairly useful tools out there on the Interwebs to help you learn more about yourself.  I swear I’m not feeding you some HR brainwashed psychobabble here – these can be extremely helpful to your own spiritual (and career) development IF you are open and receptive to understanding:

  • more about yourself and how you respond and react to others.  (Good AND bad) AND
  • how your <ahem> unique quirks and foibles are perceived by others, AND
  • how others react to YOU, and modifying your approach in the spirit of furthering communication.

In other words, everyone’s different – and different is OK.  Coexist and all that.

Most HR folks – or employees occasionally subjected to HR folks outside of annual benefits enrollment – have probably taken some form of Myers-Briggs-based assessment as part of “professional/career development.”  If you haven’t gotten your “letters” (i.e. ENTJ, INFP, etc.) yet, you can take a simplified version of this test at 16personalities.com.

Although I don’t love this methodology (because in one session, I (deservedly) was given the nickname “Steamroller,”) I took a whack at it.  It’s highly subjective, of course – but interesting all the same.

What am I?  The Debater.  What I found the most interesting (read: accurate):

ZOMG I DO THIS TO THE HUBS ALL.THE.TIME.

I also learned:

  • I rip apart arguments JUST FOR FUN (see algebra above…yeah.)
  • Arguing both sides helps me understand them better.  But I more do it because it amuses me.
  • I sometimes hurt people’s pwecious widdle peewings….and I don’t really care.  (And this can damage relationships.  Uh.  Duh.)
  • I’m not a huge fan of conformity or grunt work.  (Really – are there people who live to file?)

To be fair, this wasn’t really earth-shattering.  I’m pretty self-aware – flaws, pits, and all.  But it feels somewhat…I dunno, validating?  to see that I’m not a walking freak show.

(THERE ARE OTHERS.  BE VERY AFRAID.)

Chris from Surviving the Specter got me thinking about these assessments the other day.  His blog led me to The Enneagram Institute, where you can take the RHETI (Riso-Hudson Test.)  If you only take one quiz on this page, TAKE THIS ONE.  It’s quick,  free, and pretty thorough for the price!

What I like about this:  There’s TONS of detail in the explanation/description of your “type.”  Also, if your scores are close, there’s an entire section on “misidentifiers” – so you can see if #2 or #3 really fits you better.  I had one score just barely above three others, which were tied – and reading the misidentifiers helped validate my label.  (This seems to be my lot in life….I guess it comes from my need to argue every side of things, being The Debater and all.)

So here’s my rainbow: HybridPersonalityWhat I learned:

* I have a basic fear of being trapped, and need to sustain some freedom.  Interestingly, when I was a baby, I HATED my playpen.  Mom would plop me in there and I’d scream and cry like I was being stabbed.  But, interestingly…if she left me in the room with the playpen, with the side DOWN so I could get in and out by myself, I’d happily crawl in and sit in there and play ALL DAY. Hmm.  No metaphor THERE.  </sarcasm>

* I’m not terribly intellectual, but my brain moves really fast.  (Again, no huge enlightenment there – I’m reading Cosmo, not Tolstoy.)  Often, it won’t shut off.

*  When I’m stressed, I become critical and perfectionist-ish.  <picks up megaphone> Cue the eating disorder!

* I have chutzpah.  THE SITE SAID SO.  And “chutzpah” is one of my favorite words on the planet.  Coincidence?  I THINK NOT.

The details of my type (Type 7, The Enthusiast) are here, but don’t read about ME – go get your own test done.

I know these tests are oversimplified. I know it’s silly – bordering on ridiculous, really – to think that all of planet Earth could be categorized into eight or sixteen or even 1600 “types.”

But if you’ve ever taken the time to find out what your finger length or your wall color “says” about you – why not invest a few minutes in discovering what you “say” to others?

Rather than comparing yourself to a fictional character or a zoo animal, have a look in the mirror.

Study what you see.

Get to know YOU.

Warts and waterfalls, flowers and flaws.  All of it.

Be fabulous, just the way you were imperfectly, wonderfully made.

I mean it.  Or I will totally find you some more algebra to do.  I HAVE MATH AND I KNOW HOW TO USE IT.  Heh.

The Unproductive Habits of Food Disordered People

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We all have bad habits.  Right?

I have a lifelong habit of biting my nails.  Lest you think I’m a freak – only fingernails, and only my own.  And more specifically, I’m really just chewing off ragged cuticles and evening out chips.

But still, I know it’s kinda gross.  It’s unsanitary (dude, hands touch EVERYTHING.)  Plus, I had braces not once, but TWICE as a kid – and I’m sure the gnawing and chipping does nothing for proper tooth alignment.  And, most importantly, try as I might, I can’t seem to find nutritional information for fingernails.  (Most likely because I haven’t looked.  Because if I look, I might find out that fingernails actually HAVE calories. And if this is true, I’ll have to log it on my food tracker.  And heaven knows I don’t need one more thing to obsess over in the eating department.  I can totally see me looking at my hands at day’s end, going, “I bit off FOUR nails today!” and proceeding to run maniacally around the block and frantically doing 50 jumping jacks to burn it off.  Or saying “eff it” and diving headfirst into a bag of popcorn and hating both myself and the fat sad sack I have become.  Yeah, probably the latter, since it’s bikini season.)

The hubs has noticed.  He knows better than to complain about it (Obviously, I bite.)  But one day, we were wandering through a drugstore, and he hands me something and says, “Look, honey – snack chips!”

snackchips

Har dee har har.  <eyeroll>

Part of the problem was that my nails just wouldn’t grow all that much before they made like fashion denim and ripped, chipped, and tore.  Once you have an uneven nail, or a ripped cuticle, you sort of have to address it, right?  I mean, it’s like having your slip showing, except on your hands, and it’s a ratty, tatted slip that really SHOULD have gone in the garbage, but you forgot (read: fell asleep in front of the TV) to do laundry, so….Easiest answer is to bite it off. <snap> <ptoo>

Over the years, I’ve made several attempts at ending the phalangical feast.  And I am proud to say I am doing better:

growingback See that ONE ragged cuticle there?  I DIDN’T BITE IT OFF.   yet  GO ME!

(On a side note – I had some stomach/malabsorption issues a few years ago; I was pretty low on a lot of vitamins, iron, etc.  After over a year of testing, poking, prodding, and biopsying, my doctor threw up her hands and said “Try giving up wheat.”  And after about six months of a wheat-free diet, the above pic is how much the whites of my nails have grown in about eight days.  So, while medically, I very clearly didn’t have celiac….something was glitched up in glutenville.)

As I work toward recovery for a lifetime of food issues, I have come to realize that I have a ton of really unproductive food habits.  I’m going to list them here – one, for self-awareness; two, to hold myself accountable…to some of them, anyway.  (I’m not freaking Mother Teresa – give me a C for effort here.)

1.  Eating in front of a screen.  Yes, I know what all the studies say – if you eat while you’re doing something else, you won’t “notice” your level of satiety.  But, darn it, I LIKE entertaining my mouth when my brain is pigging out on the televised version of junk food.

Plus, during the week, I eat my lunch while I’m working – I can get out of the office a little sooner that way.  Since I often have to work until 7, every minute of daylight counts.  So, in the spirit of full disclosure, I won’t be working too hard on this one.

However…when we bought our house, we actually built an addition on it to make sure we had ROOM for a dining table.  The construction loan’s paid off, so maybe I should use the space for more than storing Kohl’s coupons and scrapbooking supplies.

I don’t cook every evening, but on the evenings I DO make dinner, I’m sure it wouldn’t kill me to sit at an actual table with the hubs and eat, undistracted, and chat about our day.  Heck, it might even nourish our marriage a bit.

So how about I shoot for two dinners a week at the table?

2.  Eating out of a giant bag.  Curse you, Costco, and your ginormous sacks of salty and sweet munchable deliciousness.  Some of your snacks are packaged in such a way that one bag has- wait, lemme look….

ZOMG

TWENTY-TWO SERVINGS.

WHAT.

HOW IS THIS EVEN LEGAL.  Didn’t Obama pass something addressing this with the Affordable Care Act?  I mean these suckers are larger than most airlines allow for a carryon (and NO, I will NOT be checking my popcorn, thankyouverymuch.)

Give me a standard, grocery-store bag of popcorn, and I can EASILY chomp my way through it in a single sitting.  NOT EVEN A CHALLENGE.  Chip clips are for QUITTERS, yo! This means I can do some SERIOUS damage on Costco’s monster face-troughs that I swear I am NOT BUYING THIS TIME but somehow inexplicably make it into my house anyway.

While I haven’t plowed through an entire bag in one sitting yet, I can certainly polish it off in two sessions, and I think the only reason I HAVEN’T finished one in one swoop is because I’m mortified that I actually COULD.  (Plus, here’s what happens when I get dangerously close to doing so.)

So what I’m trying to do is not sit down with one of these things, because that’d be like sitting on the sofa next to Adam Levine and promising to look, but don’t touch.

(Adam Levine…mmmm….did I mention I bite?)

<cough> Sorry.  BUT HE’S SO PRETTY.

Anyway, I’ll measure out a reasonable portion and sit down with that.  One day, maybe I’ll just haphazardly pour out a bowl WITHOUT measuring it….but that will be after the genie grants me three wishes (a billion dollars, the ability to fly, and the ability to cancel out calories on any foods I wish.)

3.  It’s all or nothing.  Ladies?  You’ve done this, right?  Meticulously followed the diet for several days, and then dared to sample a Hershey’s Kiss or a peanut butter cup, and the entire dam broke, flooding your gut with whatever you could rapid-fire throw down your pie hole?

Why do we do this?  I mean, when I get a flat tire, the smart thing to do is call AAA.  The stupid thing to do is pull over, get out my gun, and shoot out the other three tires, the headlights, and the windshield.

BUT WE ALL DO THIS.

While I think AAA has had stranger calls, I won’t plan to bother them with my tales of unharnessed gluttony.  But I do need to find a way to interrupt the broadcast.  I can:

  • Go for a walk, a run, a bike ride.
  • Drink water (see below.)
  • Plan out the next day’s healthy food.
  • Go pull weeds.  (There’s ALWAYS something to rip out of the ground….)
  • Do my nails (hard to eat with wet nails!)
  • Whine about it here.  🙂

4.  Drink enough water.  During the week, I’m pretty good about this.  I drink two twelve-ounce glasses in the morning, adding a third if I went for a run.  I drink 20 oz of herbal tea and 20 oz of hot water (because I’m chronically freezing) while at work.  I’ll try to get 1-2 more glasses at home in the evenings.  Also, I need to keep up the fluids on weekends (besides wine.  WHY CAN’T THAT COUNT <sobs>)

It’s been said that it takes 21 days to break a habit.  Frankly, I call BS on that (and so does this article, which states it can be upwards of 245 days or more.)  And I’ve been trapped in this food funhouse since I was ten years old, so maybe it’s me, and not the habit, that needs breaking.

But if I can do just one thing a tiny bit healthier than how I did it before?  That’s progress.  Some days, I might be hanging by a fingertip from the edge of a cliff – but as long as I don’t let go – as long as I keep hanging on – I have a shot at getting two (well-manicured) fingers up there tomorrow.

I’ll get there one finger at a time.

Dragon’s Loyalty Award and Random Katie Factoids

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What’s better than your run-of-the-mill, everyday WordPress blogging award?  AN AWARD WITH DRAGONS.

I wanna be a dragon.  You can fly.  You can cook your food by breathing on it.  AND YOU CAN FRY MORONS BY BELCHING ON THEM. I mean WHAT is a better response to being served a heaping serving of steaming asserole than to insta-char the jerk into a silent block of carbon?  *POOF* and YOU’RE a briquette….<mic drop>

(Side note:  I actually wrote about how charcoal briquettes came to be once.  Never accuse me of not having diverse interests.)

A hearty thank you to Chelise at Caterpillar to Butterfly for the nomination!  (Chelise writes about codependency recovery – she’s a good read – plus her name is like the BEST. DRAGON. NAME. EVER.  Right?)

dragonsloyaltyaward

THE RULES:

  • DISPLAY THE AWARD CERTIFICATE ON YOUR WEBSITE
  • ANNOUNCE YOUR WIN WITH A POST AND LINK TO WHOEVER PRESENTED YOUR AWARD
  • PRESENT 15 AWARDS TO DESERVING BLOGGERS
  • DROP THEM A COMMENT TO TIP THEM OFF AFTER YOU’VE LINKED THEM IN THE POST
  • POST 7 INTERESTING THINGS ABOUT YOURSELF.

The rules, the way I’m doing them, because NO ONE TELLS A DRAGON WHAT TO DO:

THE RULES (Dragon Kate-style <roar>):

  • DISPLAY THE AWARD CERTIFICATE ON YOUR WEBSITE (I’m good with this one.  Copy, Insert, CHECK.)
  • ANNOUNCE YOUR WIN WITH A POST AND LINK TO WHOEVER PRESENTED YOUR AWARD (That makes sense. No reason to be all ninja about it, right?  Although a ninja/dragon battle would be super rad.)
  • PRESENT 15 AWARDS TO DESERVING BLOGGERS (Uh…do I even KNOW 15 people?  Maybe I’ll divide that by, like, three.  Because three’s a crowd, and when you have three people, you ALWAYS end up with two against one.  Thus, three ALWAYS divides, so I come up with five.  Because math.  It’s legit.  Common Core says so.  It’s explained at a simple fourth-grade level here.)
  • DROP THEM A COMMENT TO TIP THEM OFF AFTER YOU’VE LINKED THEM IN THE POST (That feels like cheating.  Like making the Easter eggs beep and buzz so you find them before they self-ferment into noxious holiday grenades.  If they deserve the award, they’ll find themselves mentioned here.)
  • POST 7 INTERESTING THINGS ABOUT YOURSELF.  (Um.  Well.  The odds are better that you’ll find seven more interesting things on a pack of gum, or in a toddler’s diaper.  (Hey, my kid ate crayons.)  But I’ll try.)

So here are my 15/3 nominees:

fattymccupcakes, because she is freaking hilarious, and because she told me the other day that I AM HER NEW FAVORITE.  You may commence the weeping and gnashing of teeth now.

luvbearlvx, because he actually DOES cry, plus he claims I need to up my snark game.  <thunk> GAUNTLET DOWN, BRO.

The Persistent Platypus, because she went on a diet this week and diets suck, so maybe dragons will cheer her up.

Walking After Midnight, because we are coffee soul sisters #teamDunkin

Remember the Good Stuff, because she writes a lot of feel-good warm fuzzy things that are always a pleasure to read.

And now, since I know you’re all just dying on the vine waiting for my seven fascinating personal factoids that will enrich your life and resolve global warming:

1.  My all-time favorite letter?  Q.  Q and I have a lot in common.  Loving Q means you’re never lonely, because Q is always with U!

<insert three-hour time delay while Kate pleads guilty at Bad Pun Prison>

Q is HIGHLY underutilized.  When I’m trying to mess with someone’s typing, it’s easy to approach from the side and sneak in a few random Qs when they’re typing.

Q Q Q qq QQ

See?  Immediate hilarity.  YAY Q

2.  I collect frogs.  In addition to having them all over my office, I have one on my laptop:

laptopone on my car:

FrogTruck(Shout out to Vinyl Disorder for the decals.  They rock.  Clearly.)

And one on ME! (I’ll let you guess where.  NO, it’s NOT on my butt, you sicko.)

frogtatt

I love the tropical poison dart frogs.  Cute, but deadly.  I can relate to that.  And then there’s the acronym that can be a soothing reminder to the scathing voices in my head:

  • Fully
  • Rely
  • On
  • God

We could all use more frogs.  PLUS THEY EAT BUGS.  Bugs suck.  More frogs = fewer bugs.  Winning!

3.  My fingers are double-jointed.  I can bend the tops without bending the middle joint….

freakfingersFREAAAKKKKYYYY

And so is my thumb.  The top of my thumb bends back 90 degrees.

weirdthumbIt also “clicks” when I bend it back to a normal position.  Over and over and over again.  It’s super fun when you have people around you who hate, with the fire of a thousand suns, the sound of knuckles cracking.  <click click click> They cringe, cower, and eventually cover their ears and hide under the table, curled up in the fetal position shuddering and weeping silently.

Heh.  <click click click>

4.  I can’t pronounce the work “coagulate.” When I say it, it sounds like “co laj a gate”.  It’s a sickness.  I can’t fix it.  I don’t even try any more. 

5. I have two birthmarks.   One is a strawberry hemangioma on my upper right arm. I was quite self-conscious about it when I was a kid – I mean, it looked like a moose had randomly given me a huge hickey.

The good news is that the doctors have reassured my parents that it will TOTALLY go away by the time I’m twelve or so.  (Seeing as how I’ve turned twelve three times, and am edging uncomfortably close to Twelve Number Four….I’m less optimistic.)  

The other is a flat, brown mole on my left ring finger.  If there’s a dermatologist in the room, it usually catches her eye, because apparently, it looks a lot like cancer.  But it’s been there all my life.

chocfingerWhen I was a kid, I fondly called it my chocolate mark – I told people that was born with the label that, like, REQUIRED me to eat chocolate ALL DAY LONG.  (This had the effect of distracting them from the moose hickey, which, while interesting, will never be chocolate.)

6.  I am allergic to cockroaches.  This seems to be pretty unusual, given the odd looks I get when this comes up in conversation.  Which happens more often than you’d think. 

How did I discover this?  In college, I got a summer job cleaning dorm rooms.  (High glam here, folks.)  I started breaking out in horrifically disfiguring hives periodically.  It’s a unique look that the world wasn’t quite ready for – understand this was 30 years before Lady Gaga, and we’re not quite ready for her, either.  Think having your entire lip swell up is chic gorgeous?  Try HALF YOUR LIP.  Stunning.

So off I went to the allergist, where they performed a scratch test.  Essentially, they draw a grid on your back, and put a drop of allergen in each box.  Then all the allergists come over and play Hive Reaction Bingo: They randomly select different allergens, and when the square is called, they take a needle <shudder> and just barely scratch your skin so the drop seeps in and the aforementioned allergen infects you.  Whoever’s square flares up the most wins a prize – probably a tongue depressor and a lollipop.  And, of course, bragging rights. Obvs.

So it turns out I’m allergic to dust mites, birch trees, and cockroaches.  It’s quite the icebreaker.

7.  I’m deathly afraid of canned biscuits. 

biscuitsofdeathBECAUSE THEY EXPLODE.  You gently tap them on the counter, and JUST when you’re starting to feel the beat, BOOM!  Biscuit blams out of the container and scares the ever-loving shiz out of you, causing you to scream like an evil clown with an ax just popped out from the broom closet.  Out of sheer terror, you drop the can and it crashes to the floor, taking with it your ruined dreams of dinner and world peace.

I don’t eat canned biscuits anymore.  (Because gluten, and because chemicals.  Delicious, toasty chemicals.)  But, when I used to, there was only one way I could possibly get the dough out of the can:

  1. Gently, slowly peel label back JUST A LITTLE BIT.  Gently.  Slowly.  STOP when you start to see brown paper.
  2. Hold can in right hand.  Stand next to countertop, minion, little brother’s head, or other hard surface.
  3. Use left finger to plug left ear.  Shrug right shoulder up to plug right ear.
  4. Squinch eyes shut as tightly as you can.
  5. Begin chant of “LALALALALALALA” to cancel out surrounding biscuit explosion noise.
  6. While chanting and holding position above, whack can firmly on counter 3-4 times.
  7. STOP.  Peek cautiously out of one eye. If can is open, relax and access biscuits.  If can is still intact, IMMEDIATELY return to Step 1.  Repeat steps 1-6 until you see biscuits.

So there you have it – the seven most interesting things about Kate.

Dragon-approved.

Really.  Go ask one.

And bring marshmallows, just in case she doesn’t feel like chatting.

3 Days, 3 Quotes: Day 1 – Artfully Plating an Opinion

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Earlier today, I was so VERY KINDLY nominated to participate in the 3 Days, 3 Quotes challenge by luvbearlvx.

<coughcoughjustyouwaituntiltheglittereyeshadowchallengecoughcough>

Ok, seriously, he is really quite entertaining, plus he has cats (one of whom typed his username, I think) so you should totally read his shiz.

So, the challenge:

For 3 days, post a quote and express what that quote means to you.  And nominate 3 other suckers lucky bloggers to take the challenge as well.

So…today’s quote.  I don’t actually REMEMBER a lot of quotes – once in a while, I’ll see one that’s been artfully crafted into a meme on Facebook; I’ll smile or chuckle, click “like,” and move on with my day.  The quote flits out of my life much like a butterfly tipped from its perch, quickly forgotten and sent off into the ether to make some other person’s life a bit more beautiful for a moment.

But this quote really stuck with me when I read it.  I liked it so much that I actually emailed it to myself so I wouldn’t forget it.  It spoke to me so clearly, I actually HAD IT MADE INTO A T-SHIRT YO.

“The world is changed by your example, not by your opinion.” ~ Paulo Coelho

shirtfront(Special shoutout to CustomInk for helping me create this.  Isn’t it cute?  It’s awesome and so is their customer service.  You should totally hit up their site and buy a lot of shirts with YOUR quotes on them.)

That’s not me modeling the shirt, by the way.  It’s the model on the site.  And this shirt runs small, so I had to order a <choke> MEDIUM, which would normally mean “I’m fat, I hate myself, and I fail at life,” but I like the shirt so much I DON’T EVEN CARE.  <gasp>

Until I read this quote, I had never heard of this Paulo Coelho dude.  I Googled a little bit, because I don’t want to accidentally support the quotation of, say, some puppy-kicker, or some a$$clown who chucks snow cones at senior citizens just for giggles, right?

I quickly found out that Paulo Coelho has a really, really difficult name to type.  (Seriously, try it. It’s not just me, is it?)  And he’s from Brazil, which probably means he’s pretty hot.  Beyond that, he’s a pretty interesting character, according to Wikipedia:

  • His dad was an engineer, and he was discouraged from pursuing writing.  (Really. I mean, it’s not like the kid wanted to be a wizard, or a penguin, or the Batmobile. Sheesh, let a kid dream a little.)
  • He decided to do it anyway, after researching and deciding that a writer “always wears glasses and never combs his hair” and has a “duty and an obligation never to be understood by his own generation.”   (SAID EVERY TEENAGER IN AMERICA TO HER PARENTS)
  • He escaped three mental institutions before the age of 20 (Misunderstood, yet creative and quite resourceful.)
  • He wrote a whole bunch of books that I haven’t read.  But probably should.  At least The Alchemist.  I mean, MADONNA read it.  And Will Smith.  If it’s good enough for Fresh Prince….?

So – why this quote?  Well, for one, it really explains my FAVORITE BUMPER STICKERS EVAH:

coexist

I like these so well, I put one on the back of my shirt:

shirtbackTo me, these mean something beyond “Live and let live” – they mean “seek, with love, to understand.”   Does it mean we always agree?  No, of course not.  But it DOES mean we’ll hear each other out and be respectful.

Your beliefs are as valuable as mine.

I mentioned in an earlier post that the hubs was, as of late, making some very impassioned downright hateful anti-religion statements.  I know I’ve said I find it hurtful…but even if I step outside of myself and my admittedly selfish, self-centered feelings, I still just cannot see that it’s doing anyone any good.

What’s the benefit of hate?

Does hate change minds?

Does force create converts?

I’ve never thought so.

But this works both ways.  ALL ways.  See, if you want someone to agree with you – if you want someone to listen to you, hear what you’re saying, and possibly adapt your viewpoint as their own – you have to make it appealing.

It’s like food.  You can slop a wad of mystery hash onto a plastic tray next to some cold, soggy vegetables, and bark out orders from under your hairnet to “EAT IT.”  Or, you can pull out some colorful Fiesta dishes, artfully arrange it on a plate with a grain, a bright veggie, and a playful garnish, and serve it with the airplane spoon.

No one will swallow your words if they’re not palatable.  No one will come back for seconds if what you’re saying is too difficult to chew.  Much like many a determined toddler, they’ll either refuse to eat, crossing their arms and staring you down defiantly, or they’ll shove just enough behind their cheeks to get them excused from the unpleasantness that is your dinner table.

You have to present what you’re serving with the concept that it’s a really, really good thing.  That’s the only way to get people to try what you’ve cooked up.  SHOW them that it’s wonderful.

I mean, if you’re presented a new dish, are you likely to relish tasting from a plate violently thrust at you with the command, “EAT THE DAMN SQUID ALREADY”?  I’m guessing notsomuch.  But you MIGHT be willing to dip your fork into the artfully plated broiled calamari with lemon cream sauce.

The human mind is a beautiful thing, really.  I love the incredible creativity and variety that cognitive thought has allowed us to experience.  We all have the opportunity to feed one another; let’s do so with kindness and compassion.  Let’s try to understand how poisonous words and attitudes can be, and instead work to nourish and enrich each other with a balanced, varied diet of thought, respect, and love.

Bon Appetit!

Whoops.  Forgot to select my next victim nominee.  I’d love to hear from Cass at Indisposed and Undiagnosed. I know she’s taking a break at the moment, but I miss her.

The Sisterhood of the World Bloggers Award (and All About My Cats)

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SisterhoodAwardThanks so much to Nikki at Undiagnosed Warrior for this nomination!  If you, or someone you know, struggles with chronic illness – one that frustrates the medical community in the diagnosis and/or treatment – this is one of the many blogs you should be reading, because you’ll find someone who understands.  (You should follow all the blogs on the nominations list, too.  Because I only read awesome stuff.)

The Rules:  Answer 10 questions, and then nominate 7 other bloggers for this award (asking them to complete these 10 questions, too.) 

First, the questions:

Why do you have a blog? 

My first post goes into more detail on why I started writing, but here’s a summary:

I started this blog a few months ago as a “brain dump.”  I was in a pretty dark place with my “food issues” (let’s be real here – it’s an eating disorder, even if I’m not hooked up to an IV at the moment, right?); I was suffering some spiritual attacks from my spouse; and then my dad nearly died and I was quickly sucked into a whirlpool of self-destruction and I couldn’t keep my head above water anymore.

So I committed to getting well.  As part of that, I needed a safe place to let my brain work out what was really bothering me – after all, it’s never really TRULY about the food.  And now, a few months later, I’m not entirely sure what “well” will look like – but things look markedly less bleak from this end.  And when the shadows do come, they don’t stay for quite as long.

I think that’s progress.

What inspires you the most? 

Wow, great question.  I think, sadly, I’m often inspired (or, rather, motivated) by success – or by the ability to stay in control.  (Hello, part of the problem, maybe?)

But I’m also inspired by the incredible beauty in nature.

DSC03099

lillies

Favorite animal and why?

I’m two cats shy of Crazy Cat Lady status.  I have three.  In true CCL form, let me talk about them a little too much:

This is Carrot.  (Because how cool is it to have an orange cat named Carrot?) Carrot (Yes, I know.  I don’t make my bed.  Judge if you must.  Just not gonna happen.)

I got him in 2005; he was two or three at the time and his past four owners had…died.  I was newly divorced, had relocated for a job, and wanted a “forever friend” – so we rescued each other.  (Aw.  Barf.)

He’s my intuitive cat; he comes to me when I need emotional support.  This one seems to be a thinker.  The hubs tells me “there’s a lot going on in that cat’s head.”   You can see it when you look at him, ya know?  He’s also the only cat in the house without an eating disorder.

Then we have Eileen – Lena for short.  BECAUSE SHE ONLY HAS THREE LEGS.  (I kill me.)  LenaLena is sometimes referred to as “the fat sack of basement hate.”  She HATES, with a fiery passion, our other cats.  She’s always hissing at our 3rd cat (to be fair, he is quite literally sniffing up her butt much of the time; I’d hiss too.) She loves people, though, and will snuggle and purr for weeks at a time.

In addition to being obese, she’s also bulimic.  She binge-eats when she can get away with it, and on many a morning, I wander into the basement and stumble upon the aftereffects of Barfageddon.  (Note – Baby wipes do a nice job spot-cleaning carpet. You’re welcome.)

Oh, and I’d say she’s as dumb as a post….but no post ever insulted ME, so I won’t go there.  Sweet purring ball of fur….nobody home when the doorbell rings.  Complete and total mental vacancy.  Intellectual abyss.

And then we have….Oliver.

OliverOliver is also obese.  Of no help to his appearance is that he has a disproportionately small head.  But he’s totally adorable.

He’s kind of…special.  On one hand, he’s the only cat that I was able to teach tricks to – he can sit up and beg for treats.  But then on the other hand, simple devices like doors completely baffle him.  In his mind, doors are push, not pull.  ALWAYS.  He’s locked himself into many a bathroom when the door was open….<push> <click>

Oh, and on more than one occasion, we’ve come home to find that he literally could NOT find his way out of a paper bag – he’d have his legs stuck in the handles, flying around the room with the bag flapping and crackling like a has-been super hero cape.

Oh, and (TMI WARNING:  If you’re easily grossed out, and/or you don’t think puke is funny, skip ahead.)  He thinks Lena is a vending machine.  He hears her starting to gag (which sounds like “bluck, bluck, bluck, bluckbluckblubulck <splat>) and he comes running like an overzealous janitor to perform Cleanup in Aisle 5.  WARM MOIST TREAT TIME!  YUMMO.  It’s disgusting…and hilarious.

(OK, squeamish delicate types can resume reading now.)

What is your favorite color?

Orange – no question.  (I’ll bet you intuitive types have figured that out.)  I’m told that this is unusual….but I love the bright, optimistic energy of a rich orange.  Fall leaves and orange lilies are my favorites!  (Which explains my profile picture.  We went out on a sunny day with a camera seeking the perfect shade of orange and came back with over 100 shots of trees and leaves!)

Do you prefer the ocean or mountains?

That’s a tough one.  I don’t like to be cold and I don’t care for sand.  But both are truly soothing to the soul, and I always feel refreshed and re-energized when I go.

Sunset1Honestly, I think I just like really big rocks.  (That sounds dirty, but trust me, I mean it in a nature-y way.  Which still sounds dirty.  Never mind.  NEXT QUESTION.)

Tea or coffee?

HOW IS THIS EVEN A QUESTION.  COFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEE

Actually, to be fair, I HAVE cut back considerably. I only have ONE cup of coffee a day now.  (Yes, it holds 24 ounces.  It STILL COUNTS AS ONE CUP.  SHUT UP.  I NEED IT.)

I drink it black, because anything else isn’t coffee, it’s dessert.  Plus, I don’t want the metabolism of sugar and cream to slow down the slap-yo-momma-HELLO jolt I get from my morning cup of personality.   (And OK, yeah, calories are an issue, obviously.  So I drink it black and look like a badass.)

After my AM coffee, I do switch to herbal decaf tea, and I do like it.  Sleep is often elusive, so I cut out the caffeine after noon.

How many languages can you speak?

Before coffee?  Caveman.  After?  Much closer to English.

What made you happy today?

This year, the hubs and I bought some Adirondack chairs for the yard – for the sole purpose of sitting outside and reading.

I spent some time today doing just that.  How can this view make you feel anything but joy and peace?  I mean – look at that sky:

OutsideWhat is your dream?

Usually, it’s one where I’m not prepared for something.  Like, college starts tomorrow, and I haven’t registered for classes, nor found a place to live.  Or I have my senior recital tomorrow, and I haven’t finalized the songs, OR the program, and don’t have an accompanist yet.

Wait.  What?

Oh. You mean my personal wish-for dream.  Okay.  I want to win Powerball. The first thing I would do?  Take my alarm clock out to the driveway and back over it repeatedly with my truck.  Then I’d learn how to play guitar and I’d perform in coffeehouses singing folk songs and ballads and donate the money to charity.  Would I quit my job?  Not actively, but after a few days, I bet they figure it out.  😉

What is your favorite food?

Pizza is the shiz-bomb-dealio. END OF DISCUSSION.

Oh, and to be PERFECTLY CLEAR – it has to be “real” pizza.   None of this arugula, water chestnut, pineapple, and broccoli crap.  That is NOT pizza.  That is disappointment pie, and we are NOT having any of THAT in THIS HOUSE.

Red sauce (or white, I’m all about diversity!), cheese (do not even THINK of messing with this) and a host of other toppings will work.  But don’t be going freak show on my pizza.  I will get REAL ugly up in your oven, yo.

Aaaaand my seven nominations:

karmasarma (love her drawings!)

Mermaid in a Mudslide (love the variety)

Remember the Good Stuff (very uplifting)

The Persistent Platypus (I keep saying this – contagious energy)

Living with Confidence (great messages, makes me think)

Fixed on the Son (I love her look and her energy)

Living to Thrive (Positivity with chronic illness)

Thank you all for being an inspiration in so many ways!  Hugs, love, glitter. Barf.  🙂

Hate Protection

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I think I’ve mentioned before that my day job is HR –  Human Resources.  A lot of people have heard of this, but have no idea what it really is.

Essentially, it’s managing the people asset of the business.  There’s a decent overview here, but the short version that I give (so they quit with the blank staring) is something along the lines of “I manage stuff like benefits, employee relations, talent development, recruiting, safety and risk….”  To which either their eyes glaze over and they stumble off, or they ask me if I have to fire people.

Fire people?  Yes, yes, I do; typically it’s the person’s manager that has to do deliver the specific “your employment is terminating effective immediately,” but I’m the happy little elf who gets to try to explain COBRA and hands you a box for your things.

Does it bother me?  Well, sure, sometimes.  I’ve worked for some very, very big companies; some of which restructure / downsize / whatever the kids are calling it this week every six months or so.  Layoffs suck.  They’re absolutely no fault of the employee; they’re just caught up in a cost-savings measure.  It also sucks when the employee is really, really trying and just cannot do the job.  Unfortunately, effort =/= results, and sometimes that results in having to make a really difficult decision.

But some terminations don’t bother me in the least.  Especially when you’ve received consistent, progressive notice that you aren’t doing your job, or need to quit calling in with spring fever to go golfing, or, for the love of chocolate and cheese, don’t watch porn at work, do NOT make photocopies of your most prized body parts, and freaking KEEP YOUR HANDS (and aforementioned copies) TO YOURSELF.  In most cases?  You’ve earned this termination, so here’s your diploma, go out and make your way somewhere else now.

In other words, if there is inappropriate behavior, you’re outta here.

Which is why I was – what’s the emotion here?  Shocked, disappointed, floored – by this ruling by the NLRB this week.

Let me back up a bit.  Most employees in the US are not unionized.  There was a time, though, maybe 100 years ago, where there weren’t any laws in place to protect workers.  So people started banding together collaboratively to negotiate better working conditions, wages, hours, etc.  Since that time, a lot of laws have been passed that define these things – OSHA for safety/health, FMLA for medical leave, FLSA for wages, etc.  (There are about 5,234,755,989,212 more. Ping me if you have insomnia and need further reading.)  As a result, there are fewer folks currently unionized – the laws have made unions somewhat redundant – but unfortunately, some employers are VERY badly behaved, so there’s still a place for unions.

When there’s a union in place, the union and the company negotiate a contract that spells out the wages, benefits, working hours, etc.  These contracts do expire eventually, though, and have to be re-negotiated.  At that point, if the workers/union and employer can’t agree on the next contract, one of the things that can happen is that the workers will “strike.”  The unionized workers all agree to slow down, or not show up at all, until the company can agree to their demands.

This means that no one’s at work, making the product the company sells.  This can also mean that there’s a picket line, where the union (usually the local employees, but they often bring other union members in for support) protests right outside the employer.

So, if you’re an employer, you have sort of a situation here – you have customers who need their plastic forks, or tires, or whatever you make, and no one to actually MAKE the stuff.  You can’t let your orders go unfilled – that will mean loss of business, which could lead to layoffs – once you tick off a customer, it’s super hard to win them back.  So you often have to make the decision to bring in temporary workers to get the job done.

And this is where it can get ugly.

When you cross a picket line (which is what these temps had to do to get to work, obviously) you’ll get yelled at.  Called names.  (“Scab” is the common one.  But it can get downright ugly.  Go to the ruling for this case and look at page four to see some more specific examples of what you might hear on a picket line.)

In the case of Cooper Tire, several of the employees took things a step further – and made racist remarks.  One of the employees was caught on video saying, “Hey, did you bring enough KFC for everyone?” and “I smell fried chicken and watermelon!”

So Cooper Tire fired him.  I mean, no company should tolerate blatant racist comments, right?

Not so fast.

See, when you have a union, they will represent you in “employment actions” and for your participation in “protected concerted activity.”  So if you get written up, or fired, you can file a grievance, where the union will defend you to the company.

The union actually agreed to defend this guy.

AND THIS GUY WON.

From the ruling:  “(The employee’s) conduct and statements did not tend to coerce or intimidate employees in the exercise of their rights…nor did they raise a reasonable likelihood of an imminent physical confrontation.”

Wait…what?  Racist remarks don’t “coerce or intimidate”?  Marijuana isn’t legal in Ohio yet so I have NO IDEA what this judge is smoking.

Apparently, when you’re “engaged in protected activity,”  i.e. a strike, as long as you’re not violent, ANYTHING GOES.  Anything.

Including a complete disregard for basic human rights.

Are you disgusted?  You should be.  Cooper Tire had to REHIRE this clown – AND reinstate the wages he lost while this was going on.

So – I’m calling you out.  You, all employees who are represented – who PAY a portion of your NEGOTIATED wages – to have the United Steelworkers represent you?  THIS is what they’re representing.  To yell out to a bus of temporary workers, “Go back to Africa.”

United Steelworkers DEFENDS these actions.

You’re PAYING for this representation.  You voted them in.  If you don’t agree with how they’re representing  you – if you don’t agree with this – hold them accountable.

Contact your union steward and make yourself heard.  Contact USW directly here.

Or take it a step further and decertify the union.  Make no mistake – unions are strong.  It won’t be easy.  That stuff you heard about on the picket lines?  Snuggles and hugs compared to what you might see if you take this on.

But if you don’t take action – you’re supporting the action.  You’re funding this abominable, repulsive behavior.  You’re not holding the shovel, but there’s a hole in front of you and your hands are just as dirty.

Cooper Tire is appealing the decision.

We ALL should.

Very Inspiring Blogger Award!

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Thank you to Cindy at Mermaid in a Mudslide for this nomination!  (You should totally check out her blog…everything from spiritual food to squid ink…I kid you not!)

bloggerawardDA RULES (cut and pasted) for the Very Inspiring Blogger Award:

  •  Thank the person who nominated you for the award.
  •  Add the logo to your post.
  •  Nominate ten (10) bloggers you admire and inform them of the nomination.

Indisposed and Undiagnosed – she’s really young, yet so strong and wise.

Undiagnosed Warrior – Ditto!

Arms Akimbo – just started following this one – I like her grit.

luvbearlvx’s Blog – just because he cracks me up.  If he were local we’d be out for beer far too often.

Lyma’s Life – again, ditto, except this one’s a she.

Brighton Bipolar – very brave, very honest.

gathering the pieces of me – this is some of the best, and most raw, writing you will find online.  Powerful intelligence and powerful pain.

theGoodVader – bite-sized bits of peace.

The Persistent Platypus – contagious energy.

betternotbroken – required reading for anyone leaving an abusive situation.

So that’s today’s Top 10.  Thank you ALL for being a chunk in my mental stew…. 🙂

I Was in It for the Frosting

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Today, I need to write about something different.

It’s about a darker time in my life.  A time I’m not proud of; a time where I’d use an “undo” button if there ever was one.

But as I work on recovery, I feel the need to purge my soul of this.  I don’t pretend that simply writing it out has any impact whatsoever in undoing any hurt or pain I may have caused.  I acknowledge that it’s probably selfish of me to post about it at all; I really should carry the pain to my grave.

I hope in reading this that you will be able to continue to accept me, warts and all, as a flawed, damaged human being who royally screwed something up.

And perhaps – just maybe – I can reach someone else who’s toyed with making the same mistake.  And if I ask the universe for forgiveness, maybe I can finally start to forgive myself.

Affairs are like this: Imagine that you love cake.

Cake is sweet and moist. It comes in a variety of flavors. It’s a treat. It’s something you have for special occasions; on days worth celebrating. Cake highlights and underlines events, transforming them from “ordinary day” to “celebration”.

And the reason we eat cake? FROSTING. Gooey, sweet, decadent. It comes in many colors. It adds beauty, flavor, and pleasure to your cake experience. Let’s face it: Cake is the avenue by which it’s socially acceptable to eat spoonfuls of sugar and fat mixed together. Casually nosh on a stick of butter rolled in sugar, and people will raise eyebrows; whip it and place it artistically atop three layers of cake, and you’re a genius.

And you love frosting so much that not only do you covet the corner piece with the largest frosting flowers, you also, when no one is watching, run the spatula just a little bit to the side to pick up the frosting borders that others have left behind, saying, “It’s too sweet, it’s too much.” You also pick up that super-thin, extra-moist layer of cake often left on the serving board. That smear of cake, mixed with forkfuls of frosting, is absolutely heavenly. It’s the very best part of cake.

Imagine now that you have heard, through a friend of a friend, that there is an elaborate tea party planned at the fanciest local hotel. Many prominent members of the community will be attending; it’s rumored that some well-known celebrities will be there. You know the venue well; it’s a glamorous space, replete with luxurious, graceful silk drapes and chandeliers rich with sparkle and shine.

You didn’t receive an invitation, but your friend says that he knows someone who is working the event, and he’s quite sure he can get you in. There will be cake, he says, and he knows how much you love cake.

The day of the event, you don your prettiest dress. You fuss with your hair and carefully select jewelry and shoes that communicate sophistication and quiet glamour.

When you arrive at the event, you notice the other attendees. Ladies are dressed in their finest frocks, complete with pearls, slingbacks, and even gloves! You look down at your outfit and wonder if you’re underdressed.

You glance at a passerby and notice, in her hand, a richly embossed invitation that exudes understated refinement. A bellman, impeccably dressed in a crisp uniform, begins to admit the patrons. The attendees start to enter the hotel, handing their invitations to the bellman.

You glance around wildly. You don’t, of course, have an invitation of your own, and you can only stand outside for so long before others start to stare. After most of the guests have gone inside, you finally see, out of the corner of your eye, your friend waving to you from the side of the building. Relieved, you go to him.

Your friend takes your elbow, and walks you around the side of the hotel. He guides you down a side alley, which is littered with an empty fast-food bag and a few abandoned fries. You notice a skittering as a small mouse scampers away from the scattered crumbs.

Your friend turns the corner, and you find yourself at the back of the building. The wall is the same gray, stained, industrial concrete as the stoop, beside which is a dumpster.

“Wait here,” your friend says, as he enters the back door.

As he enters the building, you stand outside, waiting. There’s a window in the door, and when you peer through, you first see the kitchen on the right. It’s clean and bustling, as servers and chefs perform their elaborate waltz.

You continue to watch, taking your gaze to the left. You gasp. The hotel is elegant, beautiful, refined. The chandeliers are shining, sending glittery twinkling sparkle all around. And the flowers! Copious volumes of the whitest, fattest blooms are everywhere, adding to the gorgeous, glamorous picture.

It’s magical. It’s breathtaking.

You watch the guests as they are seated. The staff gracefully begin to serve tea. You notice the ringing of spoons stirring sugar into delicate fine teacups; you hear the sophisticated laughter of happiness and delight.

And then you see the cake.

The cake is absolutely stunning. It’s at least four feet tall, and eloquently decorated. Opulent layers of rich, pearl-white frosting cascade over the many tiers.

You watch as the cake is cut. One by one, the slices are distributed. You can see the guests’ faces light up in sheer pleasure as they take delicate bites of the decadent treat. You watch, longingly, as the cake slowly begins to disappear, piece by piece.

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, noticing the pinch in your heels. It’s hot out here. You suspect that your makeup is beginning to melt a bit; your hair is surely wilting. An unpleasant, decaying odor hits your nostrils. You turn and see the dumpster just a few feet from the door, sticky puddles underneath it, oozing into the sidewalk.

You continue to wait. You hear the clink of plates as the serving pieces are cleared. You desperately want to sit, but you’ll surely get dirt on your dress, and it can’t be much longer now, can it? Has your friend forgotten that you were here, waiting in the alley with the mice and the dumpster?

Finally, your friend emerges. Relieved, you step towards him. He holds up a hand to stop you from entering the building. You pause, confused. But he’s smiling.

“I have something for you,” he says.

He hands you the nearly-empty serving platter. You recognize the hotel’s logo on the heavy, expensive tray. On the plate is one small slice of cake, broken from handling and travel, and a thin, filmy layer of cake from where the pieces were incompletely served. Around the edge of the plate are several abandoned lumps of frosting.

“It’s your favorite. I brought this out just for you!”

A dark wave washes over you; the air escapes your lungs as your stomach clenches. You swallow back bitter disappointment as you attempt to smile bravely.

He hands you a fork, and returns inside to the celebration.

Resolutely, you sit on the stoop, no longer caring about your frock. You take the fork and begin to eat, tears rolling onto your feast. You realize you have absolutely no right to cry, because you’ve received exactly what you thought you wanted, and nothing that was ever yours.

 

Step-Ball-Change and Jazz Hands

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There was one other thing that Dr. P and I talked about in my therapy appointment on Friday.

Dr. P asked me what else, other than the art fair, I wanted to do for my “birthday weekend.” (Other than weigh 15 pounds less and have my husband pay attention to me, you mean?  Sigh.)

I mentioned that I had been toying with the idea of getting a new piercing.  I love body art – I have two holes in each earlobe, a helix piercing, my navel’s done (yeah, I know, that’s SO 2003) and I have two tattoos. I’d been thinking about getting something else done – maybe a second helix piercing, or the tragus (here’s a chart – I like to SOUND hip, but in reality I always have to look up the actual names of the ear parts.) But what I really wanted – and have wanted since I was 18 years old (which was about 150 years ago, I KNOW) – was to get my nose done.

Dr. P was enthusiastic about this.  Overly so, in my opinion.  I threw out the usual excuses (i.e. I work in “corporate America”; not everyone is as free-thinking about body art as I might be.)  However, my current workplace PROBABLY wouldn’t mind…maybe.

Dr. P encouraged me to go for it, reminding me that the worst that could happen is that they ask me to take it out or cover it up.  True.  I do, however, work in HR, and as luck would have it, I JUST updated the company’s dress code LAST MONTH, and one of the (many) changes was to replace the “no visible piercings or tattoos” part with “piercings and body art must be tasteful and in line with the company’s mission and values.”  All of the executives heartily approved the policy, but if I run out two days after I issue it and get my nose done, they’re gonna feel like they were set up.

I said I’d think about it.

I mentioned in my last post that I was going to the art fair.  It went about as I expected.  The hubs came along – eager at first, of course! – and I have to admit he was a trooper.  I actually got about 3/4 of the way through it before he actually said out loud that he was bored.

But, kudos to me and for standing up for MY needs – I told him he could go home if he wished, and I’d call him when I finished.  He actually opted to stay…and I actually opted NOT to feel guilty or rushed about taking my time to enjoy MY day.

Go me!

Despite a gloomy forecast, the weather was BEAUTIFUL, and I found some gorgeous things at the art fair, so I’ll give the artists a shout out here. Yes, of COURSE I bought jewelry. But, like a grownup, I ALSO bought art.  Legit art for the walls.  Wow, I’m so, like, sophisticated and fancysauce here. <raises pinky>

So here’s the haul:

For the bedroom, we bought three prints by Mary Johnston (the ones with trees and leaves, in three different themes/color schemes.)  Our bedroom is lilac (hey, the hubs picked THAT color out!) and these will look really sharp above the headboard.

We also bought Joy, Peace, and Perpetual Motion by Chris Ann Abigt.  Scroll down on the page, past the trees and the rocks, to the whimsical paintings at the bottom.  The colors are amazing – they remind me of Dr. Seuss!  They will be lined up side-by-side over our TV.

I know bupkas about art, but these make me smile.  So they’re mine now.

And for jewelry….it was so hard not to buy ALL THE PRETTY PRETTY SPARKLY THINGS.  I showed an impressive amount of restraint, thankyouverymuch.  After much deliberation, I finally selected an Open Circle pendant by Spirit Lala (side note: that is ACTUALLY her name. FOR REALZ.  I mean, how could you be anything BUT an artist then?)

These are really unique pieces – the fronts are original drawings, and the backs have motivational or inspiring phrases.  The pendant I bought has several colors – orange, red, yellow, blue – on the front, and on the back it says, “It’s what’s on the inside that counts.”

A good reminder, I suppose.

I hope I can do more than just wear it.

P.S.  Oh…one more thing.

I DID IT.

nosejob

I recognize that this may be what we refer to in HR as a CLM – Career-Limiting Move.

But F it. It’s my birthday.  🙂