Shouldn’t be this Hard

I moved in to a new office at work!  YAHOO!!!  I have four walls surrounding me; keeping the sounds both in and out, although they do a poor job of both.  I have flourescent lights all around me, and a generously donated “full spectrum” light hovering gently over my tillandsia’s and two orchid’s I’m about ready to bid farewell to.

Design tip #1 – Don’t put all the good stuff on the cabinet behind you.  You spend a great deal of time staring forward into space.

I purchased three new little birdies, reminding me to “let it be” and purple clothes pins to hang on a line with pictures.  Beyond this, the art donated by random office mates is calming yet highly impersonal.  I look for “personal” touches to “make it feel like home.”

Doing so reminds me that I don’t have many decorations around my house, either.  Not an impulse buyer, I suffer the opposite affliction – put way too much thought in a single act.  I waste long work hours now looking for “office decorations” that are “me.”  I google poets, photography of places I like; nothing seems to click.  It feels a bit fake.

Interesting that “I” am continually sought; cannot be found.  I can never really place it when I see it.  It’s as if “nothing” defines me best.  The moment before a decision is made.  The process.  The thought.  The donated art in my house that Sarah thought “at least matched.”  The curtains that I can’t tell if I like or dislike.

The best thing about the office is the speakers hooked up to Spotify where I can hijack Dust’s account; listen to what other people listen to.  At least no one will question me.  Tell me it’s ugly.  Tell their spouse there is this chick who decorated her office at work with “that.”

The Right to Know Nothing

Dear Concerned Citizens…..

I had to write another set of mean correspondences today.  Here it is what it is based on….

Did you know that this site exists where you can look at all public employee salaries?

Yep.  You can go there, look under “State” or even “all” and type in my name to see my salary.

Go ahead.

Then ask yourself why it is that I complain about living in the ghetto and having garbage piles in front of my house if I am making 70K a year at my part time job.

After you ask yourself,  you can begin raging.  You can declare that no wonder why our state is bankrupt.  You can wage a public policy fight to have my benefits lowered, after all, aren’t they coming from your tax dollars?  Here you are working your ass off and this part time secretary is living the good life up on the hill, in the ivory tower, raking in loads of money (which she must be wasting on blow) at your expense.

You can declare that the greedy teachers, all wasting their time reading their pretentious “books” and such, should probably get off their high horses and have some pentions stripped; learn what it’s like to be a “regular person” who has to work for a living.

Have fun.

That is why I wrote the letter.

Know how much I make at my part time job?  Roughly $23,000 a year, folks.  Yup, and that’s not net.  That’s a generous gross estimate.

The website is over three years outdated, although I noticed this varies by agency / municipality.  Also, three years ago I was probably making about $45,000.  I never touched 50K, I can tell you that.  So the state has decided that my “benefits package” was at one time worth 65% of my gross salary and listed that ON TOP of my salary on the public website so that you, the informed citizen, would really have a clear picture of what is going on with your tax dollars.

I am hoping I can use this website in my upcoming official employee grievance since apparently I have not been receiving my full paychecks that I am rightfully owed.  Then, after my REAL living wage starts rolling in, I won’t have to waste all this time socializing with “the common folk” whom I always knew I was better than anyway, I just didn’t have the paycheck to prove it.

Then I can call the city and demand they move this stinking trash pile!  I can COMMAND they do so!

Anyone know where I can buy a houseboat?

All I said in my letter was that the site is a very disingenuous attempt at open records and if one does not have the ability to actually provide that for the public, then maybe they shouldn’t be in the “let’s put it on a website” business.

  (Does a smiley help?)

Getting Back to my Roots

I told myself that if I get this part time job, I MUST lose 10 lbs.

Silly, I know.  But, as I have mentioned before, it’s not just the weight.  It is all rolled into a package for me.  Either I’m insanely health conscious, eating nothing processed or artificial, or…. well, OR.

Currently, “or” includes things like hot dogs, Dr. Pepper, and egg nog cake.

Now, it’s not all about diet.  I told myself over, and over again, when I was this person, how happy I was.  “Remember this, self. Later you will wonder how to make yourself happy, and this is your answer.”

Damn.  That’s some powerful rhetoric.  Stick in my head it did.

And so, although I have given the 10 lb challenge before (remember the bikini party?  Boy, are you happy you weren’t invited to that).  This time, it’s real. 

I figured out that while it may LOOK like my fat gut weighs 10 lbs, it’s actually not true.  The weight of it all, yes, “it all” is 10 lbs, and my new goal is to get that lifted.

Here’s how.

1) Eggs. How good does that look?  No?  I used to eat avacados and eggs all the time when I was “eating right.”  Because they are rich, and glutonous.  They used to be the “grease” I could eat.  Now they may be the best thing on my plate at a meal.  I shall find new things to put poached eggs on, by god.

2) PROJECTS!  Remember how I used to be this person? I like her.  She is silly and fun and .. man I could just go on and on about her.  So, the point is that I have a few good ideas already queued up.   #1 -  “How Low Can You Go”.  Yes, it’s really all a Price Is Right game around here…  So, I used to track what I ate and the calories, etc.  But, instead of doing that, I would like to see how healthy I can cook, meaning protein count, etc, for the lowest cost.  Sound complicated?  mmm… complicated.  That’s just the way I like it.    So, see, I could eat 6 ounces in a meal.  But, of what?  Well, if it is 6 ounces of fish, then maybe I get a bunch of protein and good amino acids, etc…  but, also important since I ditched half my income, is how much did that fish cost?  Is that actually better or worse than eating 6 ounces of beans? Much lower cost, but higher protein?  The goal is not cheap only. Or Good only.  Or healthy only.  But ALWAYS yummy.

Look for my blog to come, folks. 

See how this works? Do you feel 10 pounds lighter now too?

Yes, Kelsey, There is a Santa Clause!

By George, I have done it!

Part time gig, here I come.  And, it’s making more than $12.00 an hour!  Woot!

I am not a very patient person.  However, I can’t even complain about how long it has taken me to get a part time job.  Who knew that all I had to do was get serious about it?  I have applied for about 8 or so part time jobs in the last two months.  Now, that’s pretty good considering I’m pretty picky about the job I’ll do, I’m REALLY picky about the wage I’ll work for, and benefits were required. So, if you are looking for one, they are actually out there.

I had several interviews previously, which was a good sign.  No calls back and a few rejection letters received, but soon someone actually thought I had some skills.  Of course, their decision is based entirely on me telling them I have skills.  (SUCKERS!)  But believe me, I’m qualified for this job.

The job is for the Governor’s Office, working with two other people who are developing and growing the state’s courtroom observation program.  “Working with” is a slight exaggeration as my job is Admin Assistant.  “Working FOR” is much more accurate.

Next week is my last week at my glorious job for DWS.  I will be reporting to the State Capital on the following Monday!  After swallowing my pride a few times, I’m really STOKED! (Turns out pride goes down the throat pretty easily)

I get to keep all my existing benefits / sick / annual leave, etc.  and start working 20 hrs a week two weeks before Christmas which means I can still take days off to see Lacey!

I will be very sad to leave some great friends who have become my family at work, and 60% less income doesn’t sound awesome, but to ease any financial fears we may have, I decided to go shopping for some new work clothes.

Dusty thinks that from now on I will have no excuse to be ornery.  What a fool he is.  I got lots more excuses up my sleeves!

Viola!  I’m now working less, making less money, dressing better, and I guess I’ll give this “complaining less” thing a try as well.

Wish me luck!

 

 

Shrinkage

At our dinner table after a long conversation about my work and something that made me mad:

Me:  “So, I don’t know what to tell her.” 

Dust:  “Just tell her to give the Supervisor Job to the other person and you will just go see a psychiatrist.”

ha

For the Love!!

And so…  if you already don’t know, then you do now.

I’m a freaking nutjob.

Remember how I quit my job and you all said (by all, I mean three) nice things to be about how wonderful it is to stay home?  Yeah, I still might not.  I didn’t TECHNICALLY quit.  Oh wait, I didn’t even tell you the whole story.  I hid the gory, dramatic, embarrassing details behind analogies.

I quit my job, but didn’t technically quit.  And now I might not not-technically quit after all.  What might I do?

Xanex?  Mothers’ Little Helper?  No no.. sedatives are definitely in order.

I have been a complete basket case.  Work won’t let me do part time so I’m left with two bad options.  Work and  NO WORK.  And I know it is wonderful to stay at home and I DO want to be with my child.  I do not believe I need to be with him every waking moment, I don’t believe I would be a good mom at that, but I know that wouldn’t be the case even if I didn’t start working.  But, all that beside… I am pretty much scared shitless of not being super secure.  Not that we are super secure, but we live in this crapsville house and never take vacations because we are really comfortable being really financially comfortable.  (as I have mentioned, we are also comfortable being horribly uncomfortable)

Is my job the “career” I dreamed I would have?  Nope.  Is it a good job in a really really really horrible economic time?  Yep.  Is that ALL that matters in life?  Nope.  Am I responsible to be happy and make myself happy regardless of the fact that I have a job?  Yep. Am I making this decision about a trillion times bigger and worse than it needs to be?  Shut up.

Have I mentioned how much fun I am when it comes to making decisions?  Dusty pretty much wants to divorce me at this point, I’m thinking everyone at work does too.  Although they are bastards, so f – em. This has been going on for weeks, not days.

But, tonight, Thursday night, I believe my decision is that I am going to work a little bit longer, use a bunch of my leave weekly, because they will let me do that, and figure some shit out in my life.  In walks the Xanex.  I have been “pulling it off” for the first year of having Jonah, the year of adjustment.  The year I lose my friggin brain over the fact that I have to be a mom now, and a wife, and a stable decent employee, and I guess I am supposed to do it all with a smile on my face and without kicking anyone in the teeth.  Let’s all take a moment to celebrate my (partial) success.

I hear the DEA is having a “clean out your medicine cabinet” day Saturday where you can dispose of all your medications.  Just go ahead and bring those over here, I’ll take them down for you… I promise.

Why are some people able to float through life, making decisions as they go and I am consistently kicking and screaming, with a decision-making process as quiet as a one-man-band?

I have come to one thing, however, that I never knew before.  I thought that when you “reached for success” that meant you were going to be the TOP of the “work” chart, the top of the “home life” chart, etc.. That was success.  Know what success is?  Not excelling too much and not sucking too much.  I think success is being kindof poor, but not too poor.   Balance is success, and damn it, I didn’t know that.

I’m trying everything I can to find out what and where that is.

Are you just DYING to find out what I post tomorrow?  LOL.  Y’all are going to stop commenting on my blog, aren’t you?  Do you feel like I am framing you?  Thanks for saying nice things.

“There is no joy in Mudville – mighty Casey has struck out” – Ernest Lawrence

It was a peculiar thing.  It was the ninth inning, that I’m sure of.  I did hit a quadruple grand slam, that I know.  I was up to bat.  I was really eyeing down the pitcher and he had me in his sights. The next thing I know, the pitch came to me.  And I swung.

I saw the ball headed out of the park, I lost it in the lights a few times, but picked it up again, out of the hovering moths and falling leaves.  When my eyes returned to the bases, I realized there were none. They had disappeared.  The other team had disappeared.  There was no crowd, no smell of burnt popcorn.  All that was left was me holding a whiffle bat and wearing an oversized baseball cap that I had obviously borrowed from my dad.

An old man wandered by, he told me the game was over.  “Never really was a game, I don’t think,” he said. ” Hasn’t been a game here for years.”

And that is the story of how I came to be unemployed.

Somehow that damn baseball that I hit out of the park has now lodged itself solidly in the middle of my gut.

But you know what was cool?  I have been shown a side of people at work that I didn’t know existed.  A grand unveiling, if you will.  I made them cry.  All these wonderful fans of mine whose hands are tied were watching this.  And they had their fingers crossed.  And they whispered encouragement to me.  They never told me that I would not win.  They told me that if anyone could, I could.  Like a million little mothers, which in some way our friends really are, they really really really wanted to lift me up higher than themselves.  The took a big hit today as well.

In the end, Da’ Man won.  He held them all in place.   I suppose that is what he is supposed to do.  And I guess this is what I am supposed to do,  fight and fight and then feel like a failure. 

Now, because I am being very cryptic,I have to tell you about a moment that occurred last night.  After a day of negotiating at work that was really them asking me if I was going to choose to get screwed in one way or in another way, I laid in bed with Dusty talking about all the plans of how I could win.  I proceeded to groom him, because my husband is vain, America.  And he chooses to trim his chest hair with scissors.  And his back hair and.. well…  is this TMI?  So as I lay there, trimming the lower back hair of my husband in bed, I said “I’ve definitely lost all my pride.”  And we laughed like we haven’t in a long time.  I then pulled a Thomas and laughed until I cried, because it’s true.  I just lost big time and after being in the workforce, I have to return to the kitchen, with my tail between my legs to dutily trim my husband’s butt hair.

“One of the beautiful things about baseball” goes an internet quote that I didn’t find a citation for, “is that every once in a while you come into a situation where you want to, and where you have to, reach down and prove something.”

Of course, a second quote pairs nicely with this one: “Every hitter likes fastballs, just like everybody likes ice cream.  But
you don’t like it when someone’s stuffing it into you by the gallon.” – Reggie Jackson.

That is what I felt like and what I am done with and what I hope I didn’t do to my million little mothers.  I caused a lot of drama and am not happy about that part.

And so….. there are a few dreams of mine that I need to get started working on.  Unfortunately, gardening season is over so I can’t plant that garden that I missed out on this year.  But, I can take my boy to Book Baby, and I can take my boy swimming.  And I can get up early and go running in an attempt to shed this hippo suit someone stuffed me into sometime last year. 

And just when you thought I was done with baseball analogies or internet quotes… one more, folks:  “Baseball would be a better game if more third basemen got hit in the mouth by line drivers.”

Amen, Dan Jenkins, amen!

The Fans are on Their Feet…

“Nuts and bolts, Nuts and bolts” they are chanting, but it’s not looking good, Sports Fans.  Game’s not over, but we are in the bottom of the ninth and I’m seeing some ominous signs.  I thought the quadruple grand slam in the fifth inning (that’s sixteen runs at once!) would help us bring the trophy home, but I’ve reached deep into my bench and have injured players all over the field.  I think I just saw the opponent slip the umpire a $20 and as it turns out… well…  I’ll leave the end for the end, no cliches here yet.

Stay tuned for a brief commercial break (maybe a day or so) and this nailbiter can be brought to a close.

“You Can’t Handle Me!”

I am riding pretty high this week, despite filling my own basement with water from the garden hose.

There are a few reasons for this.

1) Good times with good people – lots of birthday parties and hanging out with the fam last week.  We went to The Lion King with Dusty’s family.  I babysat Thomas, which always makes me happy (there is something about someone being obsessed with you that makes you feel good) and we went to the Zoo with the Sanchez family.

2) I cleaned my bedroom and the dining room this weekend.  I mean CLEANED.  I didn’t do what I usually do and shove things in the drawers.  I emptied said drawers and threw a whole bunch of stuff away.  This activity makes me feel fantastic!  Nevermind that since it took all my time, I now have various stacks of things throughout the house.  And remember how I flooded by own basement?  Yeah, so now I have wet stuff thrown about drying.  Other stacks I have include: the “file this paperwork” stack, the “put this in the car” stack,” the “take this to the DI” stack, and the “Dusty can figure out what to do with this” stack.

3) As I type this, Jonah is sitting in his room reading.  Seriously.  He sits in front of the book shelf and pulls them all out and leafs through all of them for a long time.  I pop my head in to make sure he hasn’t made his way to his other favorite toy – the extension cord.  But he can play books for a long time.  I love it! Occasionally I go in there and he has gotten himself stuck in his collapsable laundry basket, but generally he takes care of himself.

So, the better news that I have I am real hesitant about speaking of out loud.  No no, I don’t believe in ghosts (“My daughter didn’t sleep last night, I think her grandma was visiting us” (meaning dead grandma)  WTF?) but I do believe that if I get too positive about something, it’s bound to go down the crapper.  Or maybe someone will just turn a garden hose on it.

I am writing a proposal for work that has the potential to change my life.  In a grand way.  No no no… not by getting me more money, silly.  That would be a stupid thing for me to propose. It’s too obvious.  They’d see right through it.  By getting me less money.  Half as much, to be precise.

That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, I spent an entire evening singing  “You can’t handle me,”  and the next morning I did it.  I approached the Assistant Director and said “give me part time or give me death!” And, fully prepared to walk out with my tail between my legs, she bought it!  Rather, she appears to have bought it. OMG… SHE BOUGHT IT!

My heart will break, it will simply crumble to my feet if, after all of this, I lose.

But do you know what this will mean?  It COULD mean my mother could spend two or even ONE days in the city, sleeping on my hardwood floor.  It means I can take Jonah to Book Baby on Thursdays.  I can take Thomas to Preschool on Fridays.  I can bake pink crackers!  Oh wait, I did that.  (More to come on that interesting thing later, they were semi-yummy)  I can clean out drawers, kill spiders, organize.  I can soak beans and make food the right way, like in a dehydrator.  I can fix the swamp cooler so it automatically fills so you don’t have to fill it with a garden hose, which you inevitably forget about, and then the hose flips out of the cooler and points itself directly into your basement window (which, btw, only has a screen on it.  Is this normal?  Dad says it is for venting, but shouldn’t it be covered in glass?)!

I can stay in this neighborhood for the rest of my life, because giving up 1/2 my salary isn’t giving up nothing.  I can wear snuggies instead of turning up the heat this winter. I can buy less expensive food, like dehydrated milk.   I can actually use the coupons I cut out now and let expire.  So… OK, so this plan comes with a few minor setbacks.

But, it is still a life-changer, nonetheless, and it might… possibly, be AWESOME!!!! Mostly, and I’ll be honest about this…..  I just like winning!

Stay tuned to see if I do.

Thank You and I am Sorry

Dear older lady who had the misfortune of being in the bathroom at work at the same time as me,  ( No, this is not going where you might be thinking it is going)

I now realize how offended you must have been, and I thank you for, besides your offense, hollaring “Miss” at me as I walked out of the little bathroom hallway into the rest of the office. 

“Your skirt is up in the back” you informed me.

What you should have said is “I can see your butt.  Like, the whole thing.  At least the entire bottom of both cheeks and one full side cheek.  And, I am sorry, Miss, but it is NOT pretty.  In fact, no one should have to see that.  In fact, have you ever considered a treadmill?”

AWESOME! Thanks, lady.