It's been awhile...
I have started this new "program" of waking up early to work out and going to bed early. Being a grown up is hard work. I am missing all the best tv at night. But I guess it's worth it to be to work on time (for the most part).
Speaking of work, things with McGee ebb and flow craziness. Recently, Supermommy came to see me and McGee was overwhelmed by her pregnancy. Which turned into a long discussion of her own children's births. MCGee stated she pulled her youngest child out of her va-jay-jay herself, so now I have this Lion King image of her holding the baby up for everyone in the delivery room to see. I have retold this story several times and have yet to tell it with out reaching down and simulating the pull-out process.
I guess it goes with out saying that I have searched out safe places to get my work done. I have found an office that no one is using and it has become my hide-a-way.
I have also been studying for my licensure exams. Or sometimes thinking about studying. I wonder if I will ever feel prepared for this test. Sigh.
So far the best part of my late spring life has been selling blueberries with my dad and other family members. It has been wonderful seeing my peeps and watching my dad socialize with everyone while he eats all the fair type food.
That sums up my last month of life. What's shaking with you?
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Will Clean For Bacon...
Usually I only do major cleaning for company. This weekend I was cleaned for a new reason. To find the opened package of turkey bacon. I was living with hope I took it to work, but in my heart of hearts I knew it was somewhere in my home. It was found in the foil drawer (behind the foil which is how I missed it the first time), and immediately taken to the trash. Another successful cleaning moment.
Usually I only do major cleaning for company. This weekend I was cleaned for a new reason. To find the opened package of turkey bacon. I was living with hope I took it to work, but in my heart of hearts I knew it was somewhere in my home. It was found in the foil drawer (behind the foil which is how I missed it the first time), and immediately taken to the trash. Another successful cleaning moment.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Thursday, May 08, 2008
You Know It's A Bad Day When...
I started by waking up too late to take a shower (damn you benedryl). Walking up late also made me 10 minutes late to work. Instead of my usual walk of shame (I try to complete with no one seeing) I ended up walking into my office to find my boss waiting for me. I had to co-lead a therapy session first thing in the morning, and was asked by a small child, "who did your hair?" I realized then that I forgot to brush my hair. After being uncomfortable at work for an hour I also realized I put my underwear on backwards (thankfully not a thong). Lastly, I had to send two emails to my boss today because of screw-ups I did. All this and it's not even 5pm. I need a drink.
I started by waking up too late to take a shower (damn you benedryl). Walking up late also made me 10 minutes late to work. Instead of my usual walk of shame (I try to complete with no one seeing) I ended up walking into my office to find my boss waiting for me. I had to co-lead a therapy session first thing in the morning, and was asked by a small child, "who did your hair?" I realized then that I forgot to brush my hair. After being uncomfortable at work for an hour I also realized I put my underwear on backwards (thankfully not a thong). Lastly, I had to send two emails to my boss today because of screw-ups I did. All this and it's not even 5pm. I need a drink.
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Sometimes I dream I hit the progressive...
I know this post is late but it took me longer than I expected to recover from 3 days in Vegas. I came home with .75 cents in my pocket and a kind of self-loathing that only comes from eating meals at buffets. Another thing Vegas left me was a sense of my own oldness. I could only stay up till midnight at the best, my drink of choice was water (because you need to hydrate in the desert), and my activity of choice was the nickel slot machine (the Wheel of Fortune one to be exact). I may be 29, but my inner age is about 76. I did love that slot machine. I was also constantly shocked by the amount of young children hanging around the strip late at night. One night I lost count of the kids 0-3 out after midnight. I don't care what the PR people say, Vegas is not a family vacation spot for me. But that may be because all I want to do is play Wheel of Fortune.
Before the trip I had thoughts of crazy adventures (because of course my life would be like a Vegas commercial), but then I realized my motto: Stranger Danger. So in the end I stayed true to my introvertness, and it was just me, a pregnant girl, and another girl who spent the 3 days sending angry text messages to her boyfriend. We were a regular bunch of "playas". All in all it was a fun trip, and I want to go back. I also have an addiction to slot machines that makes Vegas a once a decade town for me.
I know this post is late but it took me longer than I expected to recover from 3 days in Vegas. I came home with .75 cents in my pocket and a kind of self-loathing that only comes from eating meals at buffets. Another thing Vegas left me was a sense of my own oldness. I could only stay up till midnight at the best, my drink of choice was water (because you need to hydrate in the desert), and my activity of choice was the nickel slot machine (the Wheel of Fortune one to be exact). I may be 29, but my inner age is about 76. I did love that slot machine. I was also constantly shocked by the amount of young children hanging around the strip late at night. One night I lost count of the kids 0-3 out after midnight. I don't care what the PR people say, Vegas is not a family vacation spot for me. But that may be because all I want to do is play Wheel of Fortune.
Before the trip I had thoughts of crazy adventures (because of course my life would be like a Vegas commercial), but then I realized my motto: Stranger Danger. So in the end I stayed true to my introvertness, and it was just me, a pregnant girl, and another girl who spent the 3 days sending angry text messages to her boyfriend. We were a regular bunch of "playas". All in all it was a fun trip, and I want to go back. I also have an addiction to slot machines that makes Vegas a once a decade town for me.
Monday, April 21, 2008
I'm not a therapist. I just play one on t.v.
I just went to a training on Autism and they showed the documentary, "Autism: The Musical."
It was a wonderful, emotional, honest, and compelling look into the lives of families who have children with Autism. I encourage everyone to watch it.
Speaking of mental health, recently there was a school shooting in the city I live in. A teenager was shot and killed by a police officer after he attacked the officer with a bat. Yesterday, my mayor brought the chief of police, the superintendent of the school system, and council members together to talk about mental health and the school system. Nowhere was there mention of a psychologist or a licensed therapist attending. How is it that so many people can talk (and make decisions that affect so many) about mental health without having the actual trained professionals present? I am reminded of a time when Clinton was still president and he assembled actors, and athletes, and all sorts of famous people to talk about mental health concerns in adolescents. Never one was there mention of an actual mental health professional attending the conference. As frustrated as I feel, this highlights for me the work that needs to be done to bring awareness of mental health concerns in an appropriate professional way. With trained actors playing the role of concerned psychologists of course.
I just went to a training on Autism and they showed the documentary, "Autism: The Musical."
It was a wonderful, emotional, honest, and compelling look into the lives of families who have children with Autism. I encourage everyone to watch it.
Speaking of mental health, recently there was a school shooting in the city I live in. A teenager was shot and killed by a police officer after he attacked the officer with a bat. Yesterday, my mayor brought the chief of police, the superintendent of the school system, and council members together to talk about mental health and the school system. Nowhere was there mention of a psychologist or a licensed therapist attending. How is it that so many people can talk (and make decisions that affect so many) about mental health without having the actual trained professionals present? I am reminded of a time when Clinton was still president and he assembled actors, and athletes, and all sorts of famous people to talk about mental health concerns in adolescents. Never one was there mention of an actual mental health professional attending the conference. As frustrated as I feel, this highlights for me the work that needs to be done to bring awareness of mental health concerns in an appropriate professional way. With trained actors playing the role of concerned psychologists of course.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Fear #457: Puppets
Soon I will be leading a preschool group as a part of my job. For this group we are required to use toddler-size puppets who are "group members." I am not a fan of puppets, and I am not afraid to say I am even afraid of them. I am not entirely convinced they won't come alive in the middle of the night and try to cut my fingers off. As someone who is almost 30, I get this fear is ridiculous, but thus far I have been able to control it by not being aroundminions of Satan puppets. The puppets for our new group arrived last week, and since I won't touch them, McGee got the job of putting them away. I expected them to be in a box, or in a cupboard. I did not expect them to be in chairs and shelves around the office all facing me. At first I thought it might be unintentional, but then I remembered who I am taking about. Because I don’t want to show more fear than I already have I pretend this is not creeping me out. My next step in overcoming my puppet fear is to find my “puppet voice” so I can begin practicing using them with kids. Right now the only “voice” I can think of is the evil-whispery voice little kids use, but I don’t think that will be conducive to telling a bunch of preschoolers the importance of sharing and being a good friend. I welcome any and all suggestions to overcoming my puppet fear and finding my inner puppet voice. Happy Friday.
Soon I will be leading a preschool group as a part of my job. For this group we are required to use toddler-size puppets who are "group members." I am not a fan of puppets, and I am not afraid to say I am even afraid of them. I am not entirely convinced they won't come alive in the middle of the night and try to cut my fingers off. As someone who is almost 30, I get this fear is ridiculous, but thus far I have been able to control it by not being around
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Because Many Hands Make Work Light...
I remember 3rd grade pretty well. My teacher was a dragon. An almost-nun who married a Pepsi distributor. The feeling I got even then was that she wished she had married Jesus. I can remember being terrified to enter 3rd grade because of her rep. And it takes a lot to really stand out as meaner than usual in a Catholic school. That being said, I never plotted to kill her.
Today the morning news stations were all abuzz with the news that several 3rd grade children were allegedly plotting to kill their teacher. Because she scolded one for standing on a chair (which is chump change in a Catholic school). The truly scary part was that this was an organized crime. Everyone brought an item to be used (handcuffs, a knife, a paperweight, duct and electrical tape, and ribbon). They even had kids assigned for look-out and clean-up duty. Some little snot nosed kid agreed to clean up the mess that would have come from stabbing and beating their teacher. Here's hoping all those kids begin therapy (especially the ring leaders). At work, all I can think of is what the kids are going to do to the snitch who tipped off the authorities. I mean, come on, if they wanted to kill their teacher for giving a command, what in the name of all that's holy will they do to the kid who got them busted?
I remember 3rd grade pretty well. My teacher was a dragon. An almost-nun who married a Pepsi distributor. The feeling I got even then was that she wished she had married Jesus. I can remember being terrified to enter 3rd grade because of her rep. And it takes a lot to really stand out as meaner than usual in a Catholic school. That being said, I never plotted to kill her.
Today the morning news stations were all abuzz with the news that several 3rd grade children were allegedly plotting to kill their teacher. Because she scolded one for standing on a chair (which is chump change in a Catholic school). The truly scary part was that this was an organized crime. Everyone brought an item to be used (handcuffs, a knife, a paperweight, duct and electrical tape, and ribbon). They even had kids assigned for look-out and clean-up duty. Some little snot nosed kid agreed to clean up the mess that would have come from stabbing and beating their teacher. Here's hoping all those kids begin therapy (especially the ring leaders). At work, all I can think of is what the kids are going to do to the snitch who tipped off the authorities. I mean, come on, if they wanted to kill their teacher for giving a command, what in the name of all that's holy will they do to the kid who got them busted?
Monday, March 31, 2008
No, I Don't Really Feel Lucky. Thanks For Asking.
An office manager called me to let me know I was "lucky" enough to be picked to attend a training at County Mental Health on how work their online training system. Then I get to come back and teach my new skills to others. First off, I am technology challenged (which is why this blog is so no frills). Secondly, the last training I went to at CMH I wanted to stab my eyes out with knitting needles. I need to remember to bring my knitting supplies. Just in case.
An office manager called me to let me know I was "lucky" enough to be picked to attend a training at County Mental Health on how work their online training system. Then I get to come back and teach my new skills to others. First off, I am technology challenged (which is why this blog is so no frills). Secondly, the last training I went to at CMH I wanted to stab my eyes out with knitting needles. I need to remember to bring my knitting supplies. Just in case.
Maybe I Should Start Watching Prison Break Again...
Today I am mailing off my amended tax returns and the money I owe. Even though I have quadruple checked the forms (and my damn checks) I can't help but worry I missed something. Which means -worst case scenario: I will be arrested by the IRS (because they really want their $45.00) and sent to maximum security prison. And I can safely say I will not be okay in prison. I will have to kill someone to make everyone leave me alone. Then I will have to tattoo a tear on my face and I really hate needles (let alone prison needles). And I will have to learn how to make fried foods using nothing more than ground up prison meals I have smuggled back to my room, the oil from my unwashed hair, and a jimmy-jacked heat wand that was originally made to make tea. And thankfully I know in advance to avoid drinking the milk, so I won't get any diseases from that. This is all in my first week (of my 12 year sentence-which is what I am sure the judge will hand down).
Best Case Scenario: I will end up on a watch list for a while. You know, the she- can't-do-her-taxes-properly-and-we-need-to-make-sure-she-is-not-stealing-from-us list (SCDTPANTMSSINSFS for short). I am sure it will be similar to when I traveled to the Middle East one summer, and suddenly I was not able to fly without an orange sticker on everything (including me). This special treatment also included "random" searches of all my belongings every stop I had. Thankfully it did not include a strip search. The IRS doesn't strip search right?
Moral of the story-I am a pessimistic freak who doesn't have a lot to do at work today.
Today I am mailing off my amended tax returns and the money I owe. Even though I have quadruple checked the forms (and my damn checks) I can't help but worry I missed something. Which means -worst case scenario: I will be arrested by the IRS (because they really want their $45.00) and sent to maximum security prison. And I can safely say I will not be okay in prison. I will have to kill someone to make everyone leave me alone. Then I will have to tattoo a tear on my face and I really hate needles (let alone prison needles). And I will have to learn how to make fried foods using nothing more than ground up prison meals I have smuggled back to my room, the oil from my unwashed hair, and a jimmy-jacked heat wand that was originally made to make tea. And thankfully I know in advance to avoid drinking the milk, so I won't get any diseases from that. This is all in my first week (of my 12 year sentence-which is what I am sure the judge will hand down).
Best Case Scenario: I will end up on a watch list for a while. You know, the she- can't-do-her-taxes-properly-and-we-need-to-make-sure-she-is-not-stealing-from-us list (SCDTPANTMSSINSFS for short). I am sure it will be similar to when I traveled to the Middle East one summer, and suddenly I was not able to fly without an orange sticker on everything (including me). This special treatment also included "random" searches of all my belongings every stop I had. Thankfully it did not include a strip search. The IRS doesn't strip search right?
Moral of the story-I am a pessimistic freak who doesn't have a lot to do at work today.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Serenity Now...
Did you ever have a day where nothing went right? Aside from being repeatedly told I was doing things wrong (and I have to say I hit a new high for the sheer number of people who corrected me). During lunch my spinach exploded in the office microwave and line of hungry women stared me down as I quickly tried to clean the mess. Just when I could see the light and it's time to go home a coworker tells me she googles me late at night. As I got into my car to go home I realized that this creepy moment is the highlight of my day. And I proceeded to set a measuring cup on fire as I cook dinner.
Did you ever have a day where nothing went right? Aside from being repeatedly told I was doing things wrong (and I have to say I hit a new high for the sheer number of people who corrected me). During lunch my spinach exploded in the office microwave and line of hungry women stared me down as I quickly tried to clean the mess. Just when I could see the light and it's time to go home a coworker tells me she googles me late at night. As I got into my car to go home I realized that this creepy moment is the highlight of my day. And I proceeded to set a measuring cup on fire as I cook dinner.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Best Contraception...
Saturday I shopped and lunched with Supermommy and her kids. Her little girl has entered into the terrible 2's with 2 months to spare. She has a scream that stops people in their tracks. Or maybe just me, but either way you could hear her screaming her displeasure from 10 cars away.
For lunch we had bagels and juice. Supermommy warned me to look away, because while her daughter is many things a neat eater is not one of them. The first time I gave her pb&j I vurped a little. During this lunch she was pretty good. I think she was too hungry to rub anything in her face, hair, or ears. I did well until I saw her juice cup, with the floating pieces of bagel and the swirling globs of cream cheese. Supermommy lifted the cup up a little and swished it like a fine wine, letting the food particles float in the juice, looked at me and said, "Isn't this the best contraception you've ever seen?" I told her it was better than the health video I saw in high school.
Saturday I shopped and lunched with Supermommy and her kids. Her little girl has entered into the terrible 2's with 2 months to spare. She has a scream that stops people in their tracks. Or maybe just me, but either way you could hear her screaming her displeasure from 10 cars away.
For lunch we had bagels and juice. Supermommy warned me to look away, because while her daughter is many things a neat eater is not one of them. The first time I gave her pb&j I vurped a little. During this lunch she was pretty good. I think she was too hungry to rub anything in her face, hair, or ears. I did well until I saw her juice cup, with the floating pieces of bagel and the swirling globs of cream cheese. Supermommy lifted the cup up a little and swished it like a fine wine, letting the food particles float in the juice, looked at me and said, "Isn't this the best contraception you've ever seen?" I told her it was better than the health video I saw in high school.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Well At Least He Wasn't 70
Many who know me well know that I am shy and I attract the greatest generation. My theory is that these gentleman know I will take care of them. I am pretty sure my pheromones smell like oatmeal and Ben-gay.
Last night I talked to a horse of a different color. As I was in line waiting to order sliced turkey at the supermarket, a man initiated conversation. You know, usual, do you live here (in the city not the store), what do you do, and are you analyzing me right now? I learned he was a truck driver whose route is Salt Lake City to Oakland. He hates it when other truck drivers curse on the CB radio and he refers to African Americans as "Negroes." This last piece shocked me and I didn't know what to say (besides the 1950's are calling and they want their word back). I also learned that he is married with 2 daughters, and he's trying to avoid putting his truck on a scale (why I was afraid to ask).
I was happy with myself for talking with him, until it felt like he was following me around the store. Then I just prayed I would get out before he killed me and left small pieces of my body along 1-5. Sure he was a freak. But he wasn't 70.
Many who know me well know that I am shy and I attract the greatest generation. My theory is that these gentleman know I will take care of them. I am pretty sure my pheromones smell like oatmeal and Ben-gay.
Last night I talked to a horse of a different color. As I was in line waiting to order sliced turkey at the supermarket, a man initiated conversation. You know, usual, do you live here (in the city not the store), what do you do, and are you analyzing me right now? I learned he was a truck driver whose route is Salt Lake City to Oakland. He hates it when other truck drivers curse on the CB radio and he refers to African Americans as "Negroes." This last piece shocked me and I didn't know what to say (besides the 1950's are calling and they want their word back). I also learned that he is married with 2 daughters, and he's trying to avoid putting his truck on a scale (why I was afraid to ask).
I was happy with myself for talking with him, until it felt like he was following me around the store. Then I just prayed I would get out before he killed me and left small pieces of my body along 1-5. Sure he was a freak. But he wasn't 70.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Fan-freaking-tastic
I think this will be my word of the day. Maybe because there is a bee hive in my roof near my front door, and it is unknown when the people who remove such things will be out. Or it could be due to the fact that I filed my tax return early, and then forgot to include a W-2. The tax refund I was so excited about has now been made smaller by the money I now owe the gov't.
I think this will be my word of the day. Maybe because there is a bee hive in my roof near my front door, and it is unknown when the people who remove such things will be out. Or it could be due to the fact that I filed my tax return early, and then forgot to include a W-2. The tax refund I was so excited about has now been made smaller by the money I now owe the gov't.
Saturday, March 01, 2008
BYOZ
Yesterday my cousin got married. During the dinner my mom and I were discussing how great the food was. My mom said she was full, and then pulled a ziploc bag out of her purse. And proceeded to fill it with all the tri-tip and turkey she did not ea then put the bag back in her purse. It was good tri-tip.
*not sure why the picture of the wedding cake is tilted. Every time I look at it on my computer it's rotated the right way.
Yesterday my cousin got married. During the dinner my mom and I were discussing how great the food was. My mom said she was full, and then pulled a ziploc bag out of her purse. And proceeded to fill it with all the tri-tip and turkey she did not ea then put the bag back in her purse. It was good tri-tip.
*not sure why the picture of the wedding cake is tilted. Every time I look at it on my computer it's rotated the right way.
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