One of the things that has happened since Matt and I separated is that I have become highly protective of my alone-time. I even occasionally find myself avoiding social activities on the days he has the kids, because being social cuts into my precious quiet time.
This was recently brought home to me. MarsCon is this weekend, and I was thrilled to be asked to attend as a guest this year. I'll be participating in several panels and events, and I'm very much looking forward to it. Of course, it happened to fall on a weekend that I was scheduled to have the kids -- and that just wouldn't do, not when all my panels and events are a) not kid-friendly, and b) fairly late at night. So I asked Matt to swap weekends with me, and he readily agreed.
(This is one benefit of remaining on good terms with one's ex -- they're much more likely to be agreeable to these things. Other benefits include them checking Neil Gaiman's brand-new kids' book out from the library, but letting you take it home to share it with your kids first. Alex loved the story, simple though it was, and demanded I read it to him twice in a row.)
At any rate, the swap resulted in us each having the kids for a solid week, instead of the usual two or three day bits. I picked the kids up from school last Wednesday, the 9th, and had them right up until I dropped Penny off at school yesterday morning.
Whew. I am wiped out.
They weren't even bad (or at least, not more than usual). They were just... exhausting. Alex likes to wake up at 5 or 5:30 in the morning. And while he didn't always come straight in to my room to wake me up, he doesn't really grasp (or care) that sitting in his room and singing made-up songs while he plays with his toy trucks is not exactly conducive to my rest. Especially once he's gone to the bathroom and then left the light on to shine across the hall and directly on my face.
I usually tuck Penny into bed at around 8:45, and then I have to go up and check her blood sugars at around 10. That hour-and-a-bit isn't really enough time to work on anything mentally intensive, like writing or editing, so that work piles up.
There's the mess. Even when I'm doing my best to keep it in control, they just... it doesn't occur to them, when it's time to clean up, that it makes sense to take the extra four seconds to put the toys back in the correct box so they can find it later; they just dump them in whatever box happens to be closest. So of course, they have trouble finding things. And this is all my fault, of course, because I made them clean up. It's apparently impossible for either of them to re-use a dish or cup that they'd used before. (I remember my own mother complaining about this when I was young. Now I understand. I'm sorry, Mom.) I'm beginning to think Penny has an entire warehouse full of threadbare socks so she can leave them all over the house without ever running out. Alex, on the other hand, is fairly scrupulous about putting his clothes in the laundry -- but is apparently allergic to wearing anything twice. He changes his pajamas nearly daily, and I'm pretty sure he goes through at least two shirts and four pairs of underwear a day.
And the bickering, OH MY GOD. Penny whines that Alex never leaves her alone, but when she gets right up in his face and coos like he's still four months old and he tells her he wants to be left alone, I'm the Worst Parent Ever for telling her to respect his wishes. Alex's brain runs considerably ahead of his mouth, so he often uses the wrong word for something -- and then he and Penny have to have argue about what he actually said until I go crazy and tell them both to knock it off. There were a couple of mornings, on the drive up to Alex's daycare, that
I came close to telling them both they weren't allowed to talk at all
for the rest of the trip. Day. Year.
I love my kids, so very much. I love reading with them, I love talking to them about what they're learning in school and what their friends are doing. I love it when they snuggle with me, I love it when they want to help me cook dinner. Sometimes they're so effortlessly generous and thoughtful that it brings tears to my eyes; sometimes they're so funny that my sides ache from laughing.
But after a while it's hard to remember all that fantastic stuff and I get mired in the mess and the bickering and whining and never-ending work. I need my breaks. I slept until the alarm went off this morning, and that felt like luxury.
Showing posts with label whining. Show all posts
Showing posts with label whining. Show all posts
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Monday, October 8, 2012
Rainy and Grey
I didn't get to the Fall Festival on Sunday, mostly because the weather turned cold and rainy, and between that and my cough still not being completely gone yet and the mood I was in, I decided to just stay home.
Mood... yeah.
By all accounts, the weekend went pretty well. I went to the thirty-one party with Elizabeth and KT on Friday, and afterward we went out to dinner at Corner Pocket. Small hiccup when we got there and realized I'd left my purse at the party, so Elizabeth and I had to leave KT sitting there by herself for fifteen or twenty minutes while we ran back to get it, but after that, we had a lovely time, and then KT and I went back to the house and sat and talked for a while longer.
Saturday, I did some more decorating in the dining room, then discovered that the Blu-Ray player would, in fact, play the MP4s of Big Bang Theory that Elizabeth had burned for me after she'd heard I hadn't seen the first couple of seasons, so I started watching those.
Then my date came over -- he made dinner for me while we watched Avengers, and after we ate, we went over to Braz's to play Cards Against Humanity with him and his new girlfriend, Megan. That went really great -- we played down the entire deck of black cards, and laughed ourselves silly.
I got up Sunday morning, went to the store, then came home and decided the weather really wasn't going to make the Fall Festival anything like enjoyable, so I put the BBT disc back in and started up a marathon.
Somewhere around lunchtime, I fell into a funk, and by mid-afternoon, it had progressed to the point where every time I wasn't actively watching something funny, I'd start crying. Immediately. Like, if I paused it to go to the bathroom.
I don't have PMS to blame it on this time, even. The funk is still with me today, and I'm only really staving off tears because work is going to be insanely busy this week, plus I just got ten stories of various lengths (from 5,000 words to over 30,000) to evaluate for inclusion in the anthology I'm editing, so I've got plenty to keep myself occupied. And even all that is only barely holding tears at bay. So... I guess the denial phase is about up, and it's time for the much less attractive (but possibly less creepy) bargaining/depression phases.
I think it's pretty clear that I'm not as ready to move on as I thought I was. So I've shut down my profile on the dating site, and sent an email breaking things off with the guy I'd dated a couple of times. I feel bad for hurting him, but I can't think of anything less fair than subjecting someone else -- especially a potential romantic interest -- to my current mercurial state of mind.
I may be scarce here on the blog for a while again, because there's only so many times I can whinge about being scared and lonely and scared of being lonely before it gets tedious for even me.
And also, as I mentioned, I'm insanely busy with boring, un-bloggable work stuff and less boring, but still mostly un-bloggable, editing stuff.
But I'll try to pop in now and then with some kid anecdotes to keep things light.
Mood... yeah.
By all accounts, the weekend went pretty well. I went to the thirty-one party with Elizabeth and KT on Friday, and afterward we went out to dinner at Corner Pocket. Small hiccup when we got there and realized I'd left my purse at the party, so Elizabeth and I had to leave KT sitting there by herself for fifteen or twenty minutes while we ran back to get it, but after that, we had a lovely time, and then KT and I went back to the house and sat and talked for a while longer.
Saturday, I did some more decorating in the dining room, then discovered that the Blu-Ray player would, in fact, play the MP4s of Big Bang Theory that Elizabeth had burned for me after she'd heard I hadn't seen the first couple of seasons, so I started watching those.
Then my date came over -- he made dinner for me while we watched Avengers, and after we ate, we went over to Braz's to play Cards Against Humanity with him and his new girlfriend, Megan. That went really great -- we played down the entire deck of black cards, and laughed ourselves silly.
I got up Sunday morning, went to the store, then came home and decided the weather really wasn't going to make the Fall Festival anything like enjoyable, so I put the BBT disc back in and started up a marathon.
Somewhere around lunchtime, I fell into a funk, and by mid-afternoon, it had progressed to the point where every time I wasn't actively watching something funny, I'd start crying. Immediately. Like, if I paused it to go to the bathroom.
I don't have PMS to blame it on this time, even. The funk is still with me today, and I'm only really staving off tears because work is going to be insanely busy this week, plus I just got ten stories of various lengths (from 5,000 words to over 30,000) to evaluate for inclusion in the anthology I'm editing, so I've got plenty to keep myself occupied. And even all that is only barely holding tears at bay. So... I guess the denial phase is about up, and it's time for the much less attractive (but possibly less creepy) bargaining/depression phases.
I think it's pretty clear that I'm not as ready to move on as I thought I was. So I've shut down my profile on the dating site, and sent an email breaking things off with the guy I'd dated a couple of times. I feel bad for hurting him, but I can't think of anything less fair than subjecting someone else -- especially a potential romantic interest -- to my current mercurial state of mind.
I may be scarce here on the blog for a while again, because there's only so many times I can whinge about being scared and lonely and scared of being lonely before it gets tedious for even me.
And also, as I mentioned, I'm insanely busy with boring, un-bloggable work stuff and less boring, but still mostly un-bloggable, editing stuff.
But I'll try to pop in now and then with some kid anecdotes to keep things light.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
UpDown
Yesterday could have been better.
It started out okay, but then I had a massive freak-out in the middle of the afternoon. I'm not entirely sure where it came from, but it was leading to places in my mind I thought I'd left behind me, so I'm grateful that KT was online and able to talk me down off the ledge, so to speak.
I managed to pull myself together in time to go pick up the kids, and we had a pretty nice evening.
But then I read Officer Buckle and Gloria to Alex at bedtime, and when I finished it, I looked down and Alex was in tears. "What's wrong?"
He managed to gasp out that he was sad because Officer Buckle and Gloria had been alone during their falling-out, and even though they're friends again at the end of the book, he was still sad that they'd fought and been apart.
...Uh-huh.
I tried to lead him around to it, to try to get him to tell me if that reminded him of anyone he knew, but he just shook his head and wanted to snuggle for a while before I read the second book.
And then he woke up me at 3am to tell me he'd had an accident, so I had to get up and change his sheets. That's the second accident he's had in the last week or so.
And then he got up early this morning to tell me he'd had two bad dreams in a row. And that he'd had several when he was at Matt's. I got him to tell me about them, and the running theme seems to be abandonment, specifically by parental figures.
So... yeah, I guess he's starting to actually process that Matt and I aren't together anymore, even if it's not conscious yet.
Which, on top of my own little freak-out, was pretty well precisely bad timing. So I'm sleepy and doldrum-y today, and wishing there was some way to turn back the clock, and wondering if I should cancel my date for this weekend.
It started out okay, but then I had a massive freak-out in the middle of the afternoon. I'm not entirely sure where it came from, but it was leading to places in my mind I thought I'd left behind me, so I'm grateful that KT was online and able to talk me down off the ledge, so to speak.
I managed to pull myself together in time to go pick up the kids, and we had a pretty nice evening.
But then I read Officer Buckle and Gloria to Alex at bedtime, and when I finished it, I looked down and Alex was in tears. "What's wrong?"
He managed to gasp out that he was sad because Officer Buckle and Gloria had been alone during their falling-out, and even though they're friends again at the end of the book, he was still sad that they'd fought and been apart.
...Uh-huh.
I tried to lead him around to it, to try to get him to tell me if that reminded him of anyone he knew, but he just shook his head and wanted to snuggle for a while before I read the second book.
And then he woke up me at 3am to tell me he'd had an accident, so I had to get up and change his sheets. That's the second accident he's had in the last week or so.
And then he got up early this morning to tell me he'd had two bad dreams in a row. And that he'd had several when he was at Matt's. I got him to tell me about them, and the running theme seems to be abandonment, specifically by parental figures.
So... yeah, I guess he's starting to actually process that Matt and I aren't together anymore, even if it's not conscious yet.
Which, on top of my own little freak-out, was pretty well precisely bad timing. So I'm sleepy and doldrum-y today, and wishing there was some way to turn back the clock, and wondering if I should cancel my date for this weekend.
Monday, September 24, 2012
Up and Up and Down
Friday was great. I met Elizabeth to go see ParaNorman -- it was really cute and fun, though probably too scary for my kids, so I'm glad I saw it without them -- and then we went to Ichiban for sushi. Mmm, sushi.
As I was leaving -- literally, as I was opening the car door to head home -- my phone rang, and it was Braz, wanting to know what I was doing and if I wanted to hang out and see what he's doing with his place. So I did, and got to meet his new girlfriend in the bargain.
Saturday morning, I put up a border in the dining room for my soon-to-be Mexican theme:
(The lovely thing about a Mexico theme is that, not only do all your colors not have to match, it's actually better if they don't.) I was going to start hanging the art pieces as well, but my stupid cough was getting in the way, and all the dust I was stirring up wasn't making things any easier, so I decided that was enough for one day.
As previously mentioned, I had a date Saturday evening. He turned out to be neither a serial killer nor a creep, and he agreed that contrary to what certain older co-workers of his had feared, I didn't seem to be a psychotic black widow murderess. either. Though, of course, I could just be biding my time. We had a nice dinner, then sat at the Barnes and Noble cafe and talked until the store closed, and then we walked over to Sweet Frog and got yogurt and sat outside and talked some more until it started raining very hard, so we waited for a lull and then called it a night.
Sunday should have been a marvelously lazy day, but instead I woke up in a bit of a funk that I couldn't seem to shake off. I decided to distract myself with a movie, but like an idiot, I put in my waiting Netflix, which was a romantic comedy, exactly the wrong thing for my mood. It's a good thing I have a strict rule against drinking when I'm alone, or the maudlin Twitter posts I made would've been oh dear lord so much worse, or even more horrific, turned into drunken maudlin emails I would have regretted immediately upon hitting Send.
I did manage to mostly pull myself together enough to go out to meet up with the GM of a local RPG I might join. He explained some of the rules of the system to me; it sounds pretty similar to most of the other games I've played, so I don't anticipate a lot of problems getting the hang of it. So I'm going to come up with a few character concepts and shoot them his way, and he's going to juggle schedules to try to get most of the players together for a character creation session sometime in the next few weeks. It sounds like getting the schedules lined up is going to be a real trick, though, so I'm not really holding my breath on this.
So, all in all, I want to say it was a pretty good weekend, but it's hard to do when it ended on a down note. For no apparent reason. Stupid brain.
As I was leaving -- literally, as I was opening the car door to head home -- my phone rang, and it was Braz, wanting to know what I was doing and if I wanted to hang out and see what he's doing with his place. So I did, and got to meet his new girlfriend in the bargain.
Saturday morning, I put up a border in the dining room for my soon-to-be Mexican theme:
(The lovely thing about a Mexico theme is that, not only do all your colors not have to match, it's actually better if they don't.) I was going to start hanging the art pieces as well, but my stupid cough was getting in the way, and all the dust I was stirring up wasn't making things any easier, so I decided that was enough for one day.
As previously mentioned, I had a date Saturday evening. He turned out to be neither a serial killer nor a creep, and he agreed that contrary to what certain older co-workers of his had feared, I didn't seem to be a psychotic black widow murderess. either. Though, of course, I could just be biding my time. We had a nice dinner, then sat at the Barnes and Noble cafe and talked until the store closed, and then we walked over to Sweet Frog and got yogurt and sat outside and talked some more until it started raining very hard, so we waited for a lull and then called it a night.
Sunday should have been a marvelously lazy day, but instead I woke up in a bit of a funk that I couldn't seem to shake off. I decided to distract myself with a movie, but like an idiot, I put in my waiting Netflix, which was a romantic comedy, exactly the wrong thing for my mood. It's a good thing I have a strict rule against drinking when I'm alone, or the maudlin Twitter posts I made would've been oh dear lord so much worse, or even more horrific, turned into drunken maudlin emails I would have regretted immediately upon hitting Send.
I did manage to mostly pull myself together enough to go out to meet up with the GM of a local RPG I might join. He explained some of the rules of the system to me; it sounds pretty similar to most of the other games I've played, so I don't anticipate a lot of problems getting the hang of it. So I'm going to come up with a few character concepts and shoot them his way, and he's going to juggle schedules to try to get most of the players together for a character creation session sometime in the next few weeks. It sounds like getting the schedules lined up is going to be a real trick, though, so I'm not really holding my breath on this.
So, all in all, I want to say it was a pretty good weekend, but it's hard to do when it ended on a down note. For no apparent reason. Stupid brain.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Drip
Rainy weather. Drip drip drip.
Taking Penny to Family Diabetes Camp this weekend. Gonna be rainy and cold, with highs in the low 60s. Not looking forward to that part of it much, but Penny's enthusiasm is undampened by the weather. So far. Drip drip drip.
Scrambling to get a document done today that has to go out tomorrow, so we can leave early to tomorrow to get to camp before the traffic gets bad, like it did last year. Except the subcontractor guy who wrote several sections of the document is, apparently, still centering lines by putting a lot of spaces in front of them. I didn't know people DID that any more. Drip drip drip!
Oh, coffeemaker?
Make with the drip.
Taking Penny to Family Diabetes Camp this weekend. Gonna be rainy and cold, with highs in the low 60s. Not looking forward to that part of it much, but Penny's enthusiasm is undampened by the weather. So far. Drip drip drip.
Scrambling to get a document done today that has to go out tomorrow, so we can leave early to tomorrow to get to camp before the traffic gets bad, like it did last year. Except the subcontractor guy who wrote several sections of the document is, apparently, still centering lines by putting a lot of spaces in front of them. I didn't know people DID that any more. Drip drip drip!
Oh, coffeemaker?
Make with the drip.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Stresspuppy
I'm a major stresspuppy lately, what with the day job and the editing job and the writing job (I'm calling it two and a half jobs) and the being a mom and everything. Alex is still overflowing his night-time pullup a few times a week, which means he wakes me up to change his sheets, so my sleep levels aren't the best, which only adds to the problem.
You know what I do when I'm stressy?
I eat.
I had a doctor's appointment this morning, and even though I know how much I weigh, it was a little bit of a smack to realize just how much I've gained in only the last year.
Am I going to pull myself together and stop stress-eating? Am I going to regain my willpower and start going back to the gym three times a week?
...Let's face it: probably not. Though I've ordered a compact elliptical machine to put in my office, so maybe I can at least make myself do a mini-workout from time to time.
Am I going to start going to bed early to make up for the unavoidable early mornings? No way; that's my "me" time!
Am I going to give up the editing and writing? Absolutely not; that's my dream job. It's not their fault that they don't pay worth a damn.
Am I going to get a new day job? I think about it on a daily (sometimes hourly) basis, but this isn't a good economy for job-hunting. I'm keeping my eyes open, but I don't see it happening soon.
So what, then?
Damned if I know.
You know what I do when I'm stressy?
I eat.
I had a doctor's appointment this morning, and even though I know how much I weigh, it was a little bit of a smack to realize just how much I've gained in only the last year.
Am I going to pull myself together and stop stress-eating? Am I going to regain my willpower and start going back to the gym three times a week?
...Let's face it: probably not. Though I've ordered a compact elliptical machine to put in my office, so maybe I can at least make myself do a mini-workout from time to time.
Am I going to start going to bed early to make up for the unavoidable early mornings? No way; that's my "me" time!
Am I going to give up the editing and writing? Absolutely not; that's my dream job. It's not their fault that they don't pay worth a damn.
Am I going to get a new day job? I think about it on a daily (sometimes hourly) basis, but this isn't a good economy for job-hunting. I'm keeping my eyes open, but I don't see it happening soon.
So what, then?
Damned if I know.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Proposed
This was not the Best Ever Morning. It started out okay, except for the inevitable post-weekend weight gain when I stepped on the Wii Fit. But then Penny denied Alex's request to let him ride in the booster seat, which caused him to pitch a complete wobbly. (Flag, flag, hat. Both kids were completely jerky and unreasonable about the whole things. I thought about asking the daycare manager if she knew of any gypsies in the area who were in the market for some fresh kids.)
My day did not improve when I walked into the office and was waved down before I'd even put my things down and got dragged into a proposal. I'll be writing about three pages, which is trivial, and then I'll be coordinating putting everyone else's stuff together, which is distinctly nontrivial.
As usual, the proposal is due on a Monday, which means I'll be working some portion of the weekend. I've already told the guy in charge that Saturday is Right Out, as I have plans, but I can pretty well expect to be here late Friday and probably have to come in on Sunday, too.
I hate proposals. Hate 'em, hate 'em, hate 'em. Every time I get sucked into a proposal, I consider that Matt has health insurance that I could be on if I just walked.
And then I fired up my computer to find that I'm going to be taking over a couple of administrivia-type jobs here at the office. Which I hate.
So it's shaping up to be a pretty awesome day and week.
Cursewords apply.
My day did not improve when I walked into the office and was waved down before I'd even put my things down and got dragged into a proposal. I'll be writing about three pages, which is trivial, and then I'll be coordinating putting everyone else's stuff together, which is distinctly nontrivial.
As usual, the proposal is due on a Monday, which means I'll be working some portion of the weekend. I've already told the guy in charge that Saturday is Right Out, as I have plans, but I can pretty well expect to be here late Friday and probably have to come in on Sunday, too.
I hate proposals. Hate 'em, hate 'em, hate 'em. Every time I get sucked into a proposal, I consider that Matt has health insurance that I could be on if I just walked.
And then I fired up my computer to find that I'm going to be taking over a couple of administrivia-type jobs here at the office. Which I hate.
So it's shaping up to be a pretty awesome day and week.
Cursewords apply.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Bleh.
In a crappy mood this morning. I really shouldn't be. I had a long weekend. I had a fun time over my long weekend. I ate out a lot, cooked some great food in, visited with my parents, hung out with friends, saw snow, did some shopping, spent a lot of time reading and a little time writing, went to the movies, and generally had a pretty good time.
But I've had one of those mornings where nothing quite seems to work. My weight is up, my hair is sticking out in the wrong places, my skin is itchy no matter how much lotion I put on it, my allergies are coming back, I bumped my head on the car door frame, my office is cold... blah blah blah. (For a switch, the kids have been fantastic this morning and not irritated me at all. Which is good, because I probably would've bitten their little heads right off their shoulders.)
It's going to get better, though. Right? Right. Off we go...
But I've had one of those mornings where nothing quite seems to work. My weight is up, my hair is sticking out in the wrong places, my skin is itchy no matter how much lotion I put on it, my allergies are coming back, I bumped my head on the car door frame, my office is cold... blah blah blah. (For a switch, the kids have been fantastic this morning and not irritated me at all. Which is good, because I probably would've bitten their little heads right off their shoulders.)
It's going to get better, though. Right? Right. Off we go...
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Krunk
Yesterday was the kind of day where I spent a lot of time scrambling to catch up with others' poor time management (or downright lack of consideration). I don't want to detail every instance, but it's not my favorite way to work. (On the other hand, I did compose several haiku for ThinkGeek's ongoing contest during my lunch break. I just have to decide which one I like best before I send it in.)
And then I lost a chip out of my favorite ring, and thanks to stacked meetings for both Matt and I, had to scramble to get dinner. Thank goodness for Matt, who cheerfully and uncomplainingly unloaded and re-loaded the dishwasher while I made lunches.
Still, I was so exhausted by the time the kids were in bed that I thought briefly about just sticking a fork in the day and going to bed early. (No, early. Like 8:45.)
But I'd skipped writing on Sunday, too, so I made a cup of coffee and told myself that I didn't have to write a lot, I just had to push forward until I'd finished the coffee. Just enough, I promised myself, to have a snippet for the writing blog. The story was 80% done, and I knew I didn't have the energy to write a sex scene, but I thought I could push it to right at the beginning of the sex scene, and then I could polish that off later.
An hour and a half later, I'd only written 500 words, but the more I looked at them, the more I thought that this story might not end with a sex scene anyway. It would, in fact, have been counterproductive. Which means, I think, that I might be done with the draft. So I'm going to let it rest for a day or two and then go back and re-write about two thirds of it (no, really, it's kind of rough and needs a lot of polish) and then it might be worth throwing over a wall.
So it wasn't the best-ever day, but it could definitely have been worse. (Which puts me in mind of Neil Gaiman's words of wisdom about writing:
And then I lost a chip out of my favorite ring, and thanks to stacked meetings for both Matt and I, had to scramble to get dinner. Thank goodness for Matt, who cheerfully and uncomplainingly unloaded and re-loaded the dishwasher while I made lunches.
Still, I was so exhausted by the time the kids were in bed that I thought briefly about just sticking a fork in the day and going to bed early. (No, early. Like 8:45.)
But I'd skipped writing on Sunday, too, so I made a cup of coffee and told myself that I didn't have to write a lot, I just had to push forward until I'd finished the coffee. Just enough, I promised myself, to have a snippet for the writing blog. The story was 80% done, and I knew I didn't have the energy to write a sex scene, but I thought I could push it to right at the beginning of the sex scene, and then I could polish that off later.
An hour and a half later, I'd only written 500 words, but the more I looked at them, the more I thought that this story might not end with a sex scene anyway. It would, in fact, have been counterproductive. Which means, I think, that I might be done with the draft. So I'm going to let it rest for a day or two and then go back and re-write about two thirds of it (no, really, it's kind of rough and needs a lot of polish) and then it might be worth throwing over a wall.
So it wasn't the best-ever day, but it could definitely have been worse. (Which puts me in mind of Neil Gaiman's words of wisdom about writing:
When writing a novel that's pretty much entirely what life turns into: "House burned down. Car stolen. Cat exploded. Did 1500 easy words, so all in all it was a pretty good day." "Got call this morning to say I'd got Nobel Prize for literature. Wrote less than 300 words (285) probably unusable, so lousy day."Yes. That's it, exactly.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Get Your Cheese!
...'Cause I've got some whine.
Apparently, if you stop going to the gym because you're sick and then spend the better part of a week eating junk food and drinking wine and then eating more junk food, you gain some weight. Who knew, right?
So now I'm not so much poking my toe at that line in the sand as have stepped boldly over it, and now I really, really, really need to get my act together and stop eating like I don't care. (Or else, you know, actually stop caring. But that doesn't seem like the wise move.)
Also on the whine front: bigwigs in the office today, so I had to dress up. My only winter dressy shoes are ankle boots with a four-inch heel, and I'm having feet problems again lately (possibly because of all the weight I've packed on in the last year -- I don't deny it) so I'm praying to all the gods that I don't have to do a lot of standing and walking today.
Sorry I didn't post yesterday, by the way. I had Penny with me in the morning and had to scramble to get my office set up and my computer back online so I could deliver software (of course it didn't go out on Friday) by the 8:30 deadline and then spent most of the rest of the day locating and unpacking all my stuff.
I rearranged my office while I was at it. I like the new arrangement; there's a lot more space in here now. But I need to move all the stuff on my walls, now. And I could use a brighter lamp, because the new arrangement no longer allows for direct lighting. Which means I need to make a Target run.
But not in these shoes.
Apparently, if you stop going to the gym because you're sick and then spend the better part of a week eating junk food and drinking wine and then eating more junk food, you gain some weight. Who knew, right?
So now I'm not so much poking my toe at that line in the sand as have stepped boldly over it, and now I really, really, really need to get my act together and stop eating like I don't care. (Or else, you know, actually stop caring. But that doesn't seem like the wise move.)
Also on the whine front: bigwigs in the office today, so I had to dress up. My only winter dressy shoes are ankle boots with a four-inch heel, and I'm having feet problems again lately (possibly because of all the weight I've packed on in the last year -- I don't deny it) so I'm praying to all the gods that I don't have to do a lot of standing and walking today.
Sorry I didn't post yesterday, by the way. I had Penny with me in the morning and had to scramble to get my office set up and my computer back online so I could deliver software (of course it didn't go out on Friday) by the 8:30 deadline and then spent most of the rest of the day locating and unpacking all my stuff.
I rearranged my office while I was at it. I like the new arrangement; there's a lot more space in here now. But I need to move all the stuff on my walls, now. And I could use a brighter lamp, because the new arrangement no longer allows for direct lighting. Which means I need to make a Target run.
But not in these shoes.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Pileup
Software delivery at work. Four components, full audit required, and extra delivery documentation. With a PM who does not organize very well, or read his emails very carefully, or explain what he wants very well. Has to be ready to go by the end of the day Friday.
Penny's out of school Friday. As is our usual plan for school days, I've got her for the morning, and Matt will take her for the afternoon.
And to make it all more exciting, they're replacing all the carpet in our office, starting on... Friday! Which is to say that before I leave today, I have to pack up all my loose items and stack them in the hallway, and then pull the drawers out of my desk and stack them in the hallway, and then unplug all my electronics (lights and heater and computer and phone and monitor and printer and everything else that plugs in) and... stack them in the hallway. And tomorrow I won't have access to my office at all.
I'm pretty well expecting tomorrow to suck. A lot. For that matter, today isn't looking like it'll be a picnic.
But Alex made sure I smiled at least once this morning.
"HELLO. I. AM. IRON MAN!"
"Oh, hello, Iron Man!"
"...Iron Man wants a hug from Iron Mommy."
(For the record, Iron Mommy was happy to comply.)
Penny's out of school Friday. As is our usual plan for school days, I've got her for the morning, and Matt will take her for the afternoon.
And to make it all more exciting, they're replacing all the carpet in our office, starting on... Friday! Which is to say that before I leave today, I have to pack up all my loose items and stack them in the hallway, and then pull the drawers out of my desk and stack them in the hallway, and then unplug all my electronics (lights and heater and computer and phone and monitor and printer and everything else that plugs in) and... stack them in the hallway. And tomorrow I won't have access to my office at all.
I'm pretty well expecting tomorrow to suck. A lot. For that matter, today isn't looking like it'll be a picnic.
***
But Alex made sure I smiled at least once this morning.
"HELLO. I. AM. IRON MAN!"
"Oh, hello, Iron Man!"
"...Iron Man wants a hug from Iron Mommy."
(For the record, Iron Mommy was happy to comply.)
Friday, December 9, 2011
Humpty
So, the Day Job's HR/benefits department is making changes to the schedule for our holidays which essentially is going to screw us out of a day of vacation next year. (Worse, they're moving it around so that we don't get our annual holiday pool until after the Christmas holidays, which completely sucks. I liked that they'd been giving it to us just before Christmas, because it ensured that we always had that time available. It's now essentially a gigantic sandpaper dildo for people who aren't good at planning a whole year in advance.) They're also changing how much vacation we're allowed to save up, but that's much less of an issue for me since I'm barely keeping my vacation balance above water right now, anyway.
Speaking of barely keeping things above water... the schedule probably could have a few more things crammed into it, but it would take a crowbar.
Penny has a half-day today, and tonight we'll probably do our usual Friday night shindig with the Hegemony. Tomorrow, Jenn and Brian are coming into town to do some shopping and then stopping to visit with us afterward. Matt has his D&D game, so he'll probably miss some of their visit, but that'll be okay. They can help me take the kids out to dinner and then we'll figure out something to do once the kids are in bed.
Sunday, so far, has no plans. I'm hoping against hope that the Christmas cards I ordered will arrive today or Saturday so that I can spend part of Sunday signing and addressing them and they can go in the mail on Monday. And I did kind of promise Penny that I'd take her out shopping to try to find some fancy shoes to go with her Christmas dress. I'm not sure when that will happen, but I'm betting on either Saturday or Sunday this weekend.
Next week, I have two doctor appointments on the books, plus I'll probably have to schedule a bloodletting so that my GP will refill my synthyroid prescription.
Then, next weekend, I've got my book club meeting/Christmas party on Friday night, and then nothing on Saturday (except probably doing Christmas cards, if they don't arrive in time to do them this weekend, and shipping those gifts that need to be shipped -- which means we should probably get a move on the last of our gift shopping -- and a box or two of stuff to Matt's mom in advance of our trip, like some presents for the gang there, and we can fill extra space in the box with some of our bulkier clothes), and then Sunday Matt's taking Penny to a local production of The Nutcracker ballet, followed by dinner at my folks' to celebrate Alex's birthday (for which I need to acquire a cake).
And the following Wednesday, Alex and I both have appointments with the ear/nose/throat doctor at the same time that Penny has her quarterly checkup with the endocrinologist, and then she has a half-day of school. We'll spend that night and Thursday morning packing stuff, and then pretty much right after lunch that Thursday, we're off to Richmond to catch our flight to Chicago. (Which should be a hoot, as the flight was already slam-packed full when I booked it in September, and I couldn't get ANY seats together. We'll be relying on the kindness of surrounding strangers to swap around so that the kids can sit with us.)
Matt has been trying to impose some level of organization on our time in Chicago, but my impression is that he's getting a lot of, "Oh, let's just wait and see" responses, so... not so much. I'm trying to stay out of it, for the most part. I'm just chalking those 9 days up to a blur of alternating running around and trying to keep the kids from getting so bored that they wreck his mom's house, and otherwise letting the chips fall as they may.
We're coming back from Chicago on the 30th (at least our seats are all together on that flight), and then on the 31st we'll "do" a mid-day Christmas with my family and end up at the Hegemony to ring in the New Year. (I've promised Penny she can try to stay up until midnight this year. We Shall See how that goes -- and whether I manage to stay awake that late, myself.)
And then I'll have the 1st and the 2nd of January to catch up on sleep, unpack our bags, try to figure out where all the new loot fits, and start un-decorating the house.
Somewhere in all that, we need to find a time to match schedules and meet up with KT and Kevin and Jess so we can give them their presents (and I can get the stuff I ordered from KT's thirty-one show). I need to get some occasional exercise, stay on top of everything at work, finish editing the story I'm working on, and gin up a couple of promotional blurbs for my publisher. I also need to do something with an assortment of vegetables and fruits in my kitchen before they start to go bad on me, and I'd really like to try out the all-edges brownie pan that Karen sent for my birthday. (Maybe Alex will get brownies in addition to cake for his birthday. Just 'cause.)
What I'm saying is -- if I miss a day or two of posting in the next couple of weeks, don't worry; I'm not dead, just insane. And between the 22nd and the 3rd, you probably shouldn't expect to hear from me at all, though I may manage a post or two via my phone. My twitter account is much more likely to see semi-regular posts, if you find yourself saddened by the silence here.
***
Speaking of barely keeping things above water... the schedule probably could have a few more things crammed into it, but it would take a crowbar.
Penny has a half-day today, and tonight we'll probably do our usual Friday night shindig with the Hegemony. Tomorrow, Jenn and Brian are coming into town to do some shopping and then stopping to visit with us afterward. Matt has his D&D game, so he'll probably miss some of their visit, but that'll be okay. They can help me take the kids out to dinner and then we'll figure out something to do once the kids are in bed.
Sunday, so far, has no plans. I'm hoping against hope that the Christmas cards I ordered will arrive today or Saturday so that I can spend part of Sunday signing and addressing them and they can go in the mail on Monday. And I did kind of promise Penny that I'd take her out shopping to try to find some fancy shoes to go with her Christmas dress. I'm not sure when that will happen, but I'm betting on either Saturday or Sunday this weekend.
Next week, I have two doctor appointments on the books, plus I'll probably have to schedule a bloodletting so that my GP will refill my synthyroid prescription.
Then, next weekend, I've got my book club meeting/Christmas party on Friday night, and then nothing on Saturday (except probably doing Christmas cards, if they don't arrive in time to do them this weekend, and shipping those gifts that need to be shipped -- which means we should probably get a move on the last of our gift shopping -- and a box or two of stuff to Matt's mom in advance of our trip, like some presents for the gang there, and we can fill extra space in the box with some of our bulkier clothes), and then Sunday Matt's taking Penny to a local production of The Nutcracker ballet, followed by dinner at my folks' to celebrate Alex's birthday (for which I need to acquire a cake).
And the following Wednesday, Alex and I both have appointments with the ear/nose/throat doctor at the same time that Penny has her quarterly checkup with the endocrinologist, and then she has a half-day of school. We'll spend that night and Thursday morning packing stuff, and then pretty much right after lunch that Thursday, we're off to Richmond to catch our flight to Chicago. (Which should be a hoot, as the flight was already slam-packed full when I booked it in September, and I couldn't get ANY seats together. We'll be relying on the kindness of surrounding strangers to swap around so that the kids can sit with us.)
Matt has been trying to impose some level of organization on our time in Chicago, but my impression is that he's getting a lot of, "Oh, let's just wait and see" responses, so... not so much. I'm trying to stay out of it, for the most part. I'm just chalking those 9 days up to a blur of alternating running around and trying to keep the kids from getting so bored that they wreck his mom's house, and otherwise letting the chips fall as they may.
We're coming back from Chicago on the 30th (at least our seats are all together on that flight), and then on the 31st we'll "do" a mid-day Christmas with my family and end up at the Hegemony to ring in the New Year. (I've promised Penny she can try to stay up until midnight this year. We Shall See how that goes -- and whether I manage to stay awake that late, myself.)
And then I'll have the 1st and the 2nd of January to catch up on sleep, unpack our bags, try to figure out where all the new loot fits, and start un-decorating the house.
Somewhere in all that, we need to find a time to match schedules and meet up with KT and Kevin and Jess so we can give them their presents (and I can get the stuff I ordered from KT's thirty-one show). I need to get some occasional exercise, stay on top of everything at work, finish editing the story I'm working on, and gin up a couple of promotional blurbs for my publisher. I also need to do something with an assortment of vegetables and fruits in my kitchen before they start to go bad on me, and I'd really like to try out the all-edges brownie pan that Karen sent for my birthday. (Maybe Alex will get brownies in addition to cake for his birthday. Just 'cause.)
What I'm saying is -- if I miss a day or two of posting in the next couple of weeks, don't worry; I'm not dead, just insane. And between the 22nd and the 3rd, you probably shouldn't expect to hear from me at all, though I may manage a post or two via my phone. My twitter account is much more likely to see semi-regular posts, if you find yourself saddened by the silence here.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Struggle
I'm struggling with apathy. Again.
Christmas used to be my favorite holiday of the year. I looked forward to it all year long, dragged out the decorations as soon as Thanksgiving had arrived, and buried myself in the planning and activities with joyous enthusiasm. I loved it all.
This year... I'm not feeling it. There's no excitement to balance out the schedule crunch; there's no delight to make the petty frustrations all worthwhile; there's no thrill to offset the whining. I'm not captivated by the lights or teary-eyed at the music or warmed by the acts of charity. I just. Don't. Care.
Don't care if the house is decorated. Don't care if the presents are all wrapped and under the tree. Don't care if we've got a present for everyone on our list. Don't care if we make it to all the events. Don't care if we see all the specials, read all the books, bake all the cookies, open all the advent doors.
But it's not just Christmas. It's everything. I don't care if I get my work done on time... or at all. Don't care if the bills get paid. Don't care if I finish the story I'm writing. Don't care if I participate in the promotional stuff. Don't care if there's dinner on the table. Don't care if the kids are bathed, don't care if I get a shower.
Don't know why. Am I just tired? Burned out on stress? Midlife crisis? Lack of introvert recharge time? Late-breaking cynicism onset? I don't know. Don't much care about that, either. All I know is that everything's gone grey on me again.
I'm trying to pretend it's all in color. For the kids' sakes, and Matt's, and everyone else. I'm doing my work (mostly on time) and making dinner and taking showers and making lunches and going to the gym. I put up the decorations and I'm lighting the candles and making the treats and opening the doors and listening to the music. Doing the shopping and making the plans and wrapping the presents and playing the games. Taking the pictures and making the cards and struggling with the technical issues.
It's going to blow over, eventually, and when it does, I'll want to know that I didn't screw up anyone else's holidays too badly. So I'm making the effort. As much as I can. But it's a struggle, and I don't know if I'm going to be able to keep it up all the way through the end of the month.
(I lied. It's not all grey. Alex has been eating oddly and complaining of thirst a lot lately and so for a few days there, the grey was tinged with terror, until I finally gave in and tested his blood sugar one morning before he'd eaten. It came up at 81. He's fine. I admit that returning to the grey after that was something of a relief.)
Christmas used to be my favorite holiday of the year. I looked forward to it all year long, dragged out the decorations as soon as Thanksgiving had arrived, and buried myself in the planning and activities with joyous enthusiasm. I loved it all.
This year... I'm not feeling it. There's no excitement to balance out the schedule crunch; there's no delight to make the petty frustrations all worthwhile; there's no thrill to offset the whining. I'm not captivated by the lights or teary-eyed at the music or warmed by the acts of charity. I just. Don't. Care.
Don't care if the house is decorated. Don't care if the presents are all wrapped and under the tree. Don't care if we've got a present for everyone on our list. Don't care if we make it to all the events. Don't care if we see all the specials, read all the books, bake all the cookies, open all the advent doors.
But it's not just Christmas. It's everything. I don't care if I get my work done on time... or at all. Don't care if the bills get paid. Don't care if I finish the story I'm writing. Don't care if I participate in the promotional stuff. Don't care if there's dinner on the table. Don't care if the kids are bathed, don't care if I get a shower.
Don't know why. Am I just tired? Burned out on stress? Midlife crisis? Lack of introvert recharge time? Late-breaking cynicism onset? I don't know. Don't much care about that, either. All I know is that everything's gone grey on me again.
I'm trying to pretend it's all in color. For the kids' sakes, and Matt's, and everyone else. I'm doing my work (mostly on time) and making dinner and taking showers and making lunches and going to the gym. I put up the decorations and I'm lighting the candles and making the treats and opening the doors and listening to the music. Doing the shopping and making the plans and wrapping the presents and playing the games. Taking the pictures and making the cards and struggling with the technical issues.
It's going to blow over, eventually, and when it does, I'll want to know that I didn't screw up anyone else's holidays too badly. So I'm making the effort. As much as I can. But it's a struggle, and I don't know if I'm going to be able to keep it up all the way through the end of the month.
***
(I lied. It's not all grey. Alex has been eating oddly and complaining of thirst a lot lately and so for a few days there, the grey was tinged with terror, until I finally gave in and tested his blood sugar one morning before he'd eaten. It came up at 81. He's fine. I admit that returning to the grey after that was something of a relief.)
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Slept
I have too many balls juggling at the same time, I think. In no particular order:
I'm not sure if I'm actually sleep-deprived, in which case a few early nights might set me straight, or if it's a stress reaction to the holiday ramp-up.
Either way, I'm glad one of my friends gave me some caffeinated lip balm and soap for a birthday present!
- Two novels to be proof-read, both due before the end of November.
- A novella to edit and its author to herd through all the assorted steps. (This involves a number of different deadlines, but the whole thing comes to fruition in early January.)
- Keeping my own writing projects moving, however slowly.
- Thanksgiving dinner to plan and prepare.
- A friend's birthday package to wrap (not a trivial task, due to <SPOILER>) and box for shipping.
- Matt's birthday to plan for.
- Assorted social events and plans.
- Christmas shopping to plan and put into effect.
- The moon cookie party to plan and prepare for.
- Other holiday activities, such as taking photos for the Christmas card (though I snapped up today's Groupon, so that's at least partly underway!) and figuring out the best time for us to go to Christmastown at Busch Gardens.
- Getting to the gym at least twice (and preferably three times) a week.
- The actual work at my actual job. (I know -- crazy!)
- A million other things that may or may not be tangentially related to the above -- for instance, the usual day-to-day household tasks and chores.
I'm not sure if I'm actually sleep-deprived, in which case a few early nights might set me straight, or if it's a stress reaction to the holiday ramp-up.
Either way, I'm glad one of my friends gave me some caffeinated lip balm and soap for a birthday present!
Friday, October 7, 2011
Disappearing
I've never liked being in the car. When I was a kid, it was a kind of torture to go visit my mom's relatives, because they all lived about two hundred miles away in North Carolina, which meant four hours in a car. Even when my parents broke the trip up for us by stopping halfway for a meal, I hated it. Friends would tell me about family trips where they were in the car for whole days at a time, and all I could do was marvel at the imagined torture of it.
It got a little better when I got old enough to drive, but I still don't much care for it. My friend Karen drives down to this area from New York at least twice a year, and I can't even comprehend being willing to do that. Any trip that's going to take more than four hours to drive, I want to know what my flight options are. I waffled on taking my first real job because the commute was going to be more than half an hour.
That one has come back to haunt me, because now every morning, I'm in the car for the better part of an hour, driving Alex up to daycare and then driving Penny back down to her school before I go to work. It's not my favorite part of the day, but I've mostly made my peace with it. The kids have learned that I'm not terribly communicative when I'm driving, and they largely talk to each other, and Penny brings a book to read after we've dropped Alex off. Once I'm alone in the car, I switch the radio from music to comedy.
So I cope.
And yet, a few times a year, I see something that makes it worth it. A couple of years back, I saw fog lifting from a freshly-plowed field; the mist hung thick and swirly in the air at a level four feet off the ground, the early sunlight making it sparkle. I'd never seen anything quite like it before, and I've never seen it since.
This morning, there was a thick fog hanging over the swamp -- and only over the swamp, glued there like cotton balls. As I was coming back that way after taking Alex to daycare, I was approaching the bridge down a slight incline, and the fog was still there, tall enough to swallow the trees and everything else on the far side of the bridge. For just a brief moment, it looked like I was about to drive off the end of the world and into oblivion.
As I reached the bridge and my visibility extended, the illusion expanded, and it seemed that the rest of the world was being created at that moment, simply because I was ready to pass through the barrier. (At the time, it was a profound and almost spiritual image. Only now, as I try to put it in words, do I realize that it sounds like crossing zones in a video game. Blame my inadequate wordsmithing, and not the experience itself.)
I wondered, as I pushed through the fog, what would happen if it was a barrier -- or a portal. Would I find myself lost in a featureless grey space? Pass through into a world that, in fact, hadn't existed in the moments before I entered it? Would I disappear entirely from this world, or would another me from another world enter at the same moment I left and take up my life where I left off?
Maybe I am in another world now. Maybe I drove through that portal and am now in a new world, taking the place of the me that was here yesterday. Maybe I'll say something to someone later that's not quite right, and the person I'm talking to will pause for a moment and give me an odd look, and wonder what's happened to me.
How about it, blog readers? Am I a traveler in an alternate dimension (or from your perspective, a traveler from an alternate dimension?) I must say, though -- if that's the case, alternate-world me doesn't do a very good job at keeping up with her paperwork.
It got a little better when I got old enough to drive, but I still don't much care for it. My friend Karen drives down to this area from New York at least twice a year, and I can't even comprehend being willing to do that. Any trip that's going to take more than four hours to drive, I want to know what my flight options are. I waffled on taking my first real job because the commute was going to be more than half an hour.
That one has come back to haunt me, because now every morning, I'm in the car for the better part of an hour, driving Alex up to daycare and then driving Penny back down to her school before I go to work. It's not my favorite part of the day, but I've mostly made my peace with it. The kids have learned that I'm not terribly communicative when I'm driving, and they largely talk to each other, and Penny brings a book to read after we've dropped Alex off. Once I'm alone in the car, I switch the radio from music to comedy.
So I cope.
And yet, a few times a year, I see something that makes it worth it. A couple of years back, I saw fog lifting from a freshly-plowed field; the mist hung thick and swirly in the air at a level four feet off the ground, the early sunlight making it sparkle. I'd never seen anything quite like it before, and I've never seen it since.
This morning, there was a thick fog hanging over the swamp -- and only over the swamp, glued there like cotton balls. As I was coming back that way after taking Alex to daycare, I was approaching the bridge down a slight incline, and the fog was still there, tall enough to swallow the trees and everything else on the far side of the bridge. For just a brief moment, it looked like I was about to drive off the end of the world and into oblivion.
As I reached the bridge and my visibility extended, the illusion expanded, and it seemed that the rest of the world was being created at that moment, simply because I was ready to pass through the barrier. (At the time, it was a profound and almost spiritual image. Only now, as I try to put it in words, do I realize that it sounds like crossing zones in a video game. Blame my inadequate wordsmithing, and not the experience itself.)
I wondered, as I pushed through the fog, what would happen if it was a barrier -- or a portal. Would I find myself lost in a featureless grey space? Pass through into a world that, in fact, hadn't existed in the moments before I entered it? Would I disappear entirely from this world, or would another me from another world enter at the same moment I left and take up my life where I left off?
Maybe I am in another world now. Maybe I drove through that portal and am now in a new world, taking the place of the me that was here yesterday. Maybe I'll say something to someone later that's not quite right, and the person I'm talking to will pause for a moment and give me an odd look, and wonder what's happened to me.
How about it, blog readers? Am I a traveler in an alternate dimension (or from your perspective, a traveler from an alternate dimension?) I must say, though -- if that's the case, alternate-world me doesn't do a very good job at keeping up with her paperwork.
Monday, June 13, 2011
That Time
Mornings suck. They have that whole "I just woke up and don't really want to be out of bed and functioning" vibe to them.
Mondays suck. They have that whole "I just came back to work after the weekend and don't really want to be thinking and making decisions and doing responsible shit" thing going for (or rather, against) them.
This time of the month sucks. I'm seriously PMSing -- I spent the weekend eating everything that wasn't nailed down (and suffering the Wii Fit's disappointment for it this morning) and am now moving firmly into my anti-social phase where I totally overreact and want to kill people for their stupidity when they try to touch me or talk to me. (The more I live with this bizarre menstrual cycle, the more I find myself empathizing with KT's old Heroes villain, Face, an alien whose psychotic behavior was eventually blamed on adolescent hormones. Maybe if we'd slipped her a couple of Midol and the contents of a Hershey's factory early on in the campaign, she wouldn't have sold the population of China to some other hungry aliens.)
This time of year sucks. It's stupidly hot out, except on days I think we might have time to go swimming, when it turns breezy and cool and incoming-thunderstorm-ish. Every bug in the county is trying to get out of the heat, which I empathize with, but they need to understand that their designated hiding place is in the house's crawl space, not my bathtub. The really good summer produce (corn, tomatoes, and watermelon) isn't quite ready to go yet, but the best spring stuff (berries) is mostly tapped out. The school year is almost done, so Penny's lost all interest, but I can't ship her off to daycare/summer camp yet. Nothing much is happening on TV or at the movies (though we did take the kids to see Kung Fu Panda II over the weekend, and we all enjoyed it).
Also, this time of life kind of sucks. I'm too old to be bouncy and flirty and changing jobs every time I get bored. I'm too young to demand deferential treatment or console myself with the thought that retirement is just over the horizon.
I'm not saying there's nothing good about any of these things. I like morning's calm, cool weather. I like Mondays' relatively relaxed schedule. I like... Okay, I don't really like anything about PMSing, but at least I know it will end. I like the thunderstorms and sense of anticipation of early summer. And I like the emotional and financial security that comes with this point in my life.
I'm not having a bad time right now. It's just a slightly grouchy time.
Mondays suck. They have that whole "I just came back to work after the weekend and don't really want to be thinking and making decisions and doing responsible shit" thing going for (or rather, against) them.
This time of the month sucks. I'm seriously PMSing -- I spent the weekend eating everything that wasn't nailed down (and suffering the Wii Fit's disappointment for it this morning) and am now moving firmly into my anti-social phase where I totally overreact and want to kill people for their stupidity when they try to touch me or talk to me. (The more I live with this bizarre menstrual cycle, the more I find myself empathizing with KT's old Heroes villain, Face, an alien whose psychotic behavior was eventually blamed on adolescent hormones. Maybe if we'd slipped her a couple of Midol and the contents of a Hershey's factory early on in the campaign, she wouldn't have sold the population of China to some other hungry aliens.)
This time of year sucks. It's stupidly hot out, except on days I think we might have time to go swimming, when it turns breezy and cool and incoming-thunderstorm-ish. Every bug in the county is trying to get out of the heat, which I empathize with, but they need to understand that their designated hiding place is in the house's crawl space, not my bathtub. The really good summer produce (corn, tomatoes, and watermelon) isn't quite ready to go yet, but the best spring stuff (berries) is mostly tapped out. The school year is almost done, so Penny's lost all interest, but I can't ship her off to daycare/summer camp yet. Nothing much is happening on TV or at the movies (though we did take the kids to see Kung Fu Panda II over the weekend, and we all enjoyed it).
Also, this time of life kind of sucks. I'm too old to be bouncy and flirty and changing jobs every time I get bored. I'm too young to demand deferential treatment or console myself with the thought that retirement is just over the horizon.
I'm not saying there's nothing good about any of these things. I like morning's calm, cool weather. I like Mondays' relatively relaxed schedule. I like... Okay, I don't really like anything about PMSing, but at least I know it will end. I like the thunderstorms and sense of anticipation of early summer. And I like the emotional and financial security that comes with this point in my life.
I'm not having a bad time right now. It's just a slightly grouchy time.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
I Need Cheese
I need cheese... because mostly what I have this morning is whine.
Work, blah blah underfunded blah blah burning through vacation time blah.
Penny's insulin pump saga blah blah delays allergies blah blah.
Sleep blah tired blah blah.
Diet backslide blah blah lack of willpower blah fat.
I will say I was pleased to figure out that I can use HandBrake to convert .avi files into .mp4 files (thereby making certain shows usable on my iPad that weren't before).
And also that Game of Thrones is totally kicking butt. I was slightly disappointed in the Sex-and-Exposition scene from the previous episode -- not the technique, which is a traditional way to fit in dialog while giving us some eye-candy (and HBO is generously fan-servicing the ladies along with the men -- they're not granting us a full half time, but it's a solid 25 or 30 percent, which is pretty good for a fantasy show that traditionally would market primarily to guys) -- but in Littlefinger's performance during it. I can grant that his show-no-emotion demeanor must be difficult for the actor to pull off, but he was talking about some heavy emotional stuff, and I thought we should have seen a little more.
But this episode was much better. Robb, who up until now has been something of a closed book, had some very nice scenes (in particular, there was an exchange of glances with Catelyn that I really appreciated) and made me warm up to him a lot.
I can't wait for HBO to release this on DVD so I can own it.
Work, blah blah underfunded blah blah burning through vacation time blah.
Penny's insulin pump saga blah blah delays allergies blah blah.
Sleep blah tired blah blah.
Diet backslide blah blah lack of willpower blah fat.
I will say I was pleased to figure out that I can use HandBrake to convert .avi files into .mp4 files (thereby making certain shows usable on my iPad that weren't before).
And also that Game of Thrones is totally kicking butt. I was slightly disappointed in the Sex-and-Exposition scene from the previous episode -- not the technique, which is a traditional way to fit in dialog while giving us some eye-candy (and HBO is generously fan-servicing the ladies along with the men -- they're not granting us a full half time, but it's a solid 25 or 30 percent, which is pretty good for a fantasy show that traditionally would market primarily to guys) -- but in Littlefinger's performance during it. I can grant that his show-no-emotion demeanor must be difficult for the actor to pull off, but he was talking about some heavy emotional stuff, and I thought we should have seen a little more.
But this episode was much better. Robb, who up until now has been something of a closed book, had some very nice scenes (in particular, there was an exchange of glances with Catelyn that I really appreciated) and made me warm up to him a lot.
I can't wait for HBO to release this on DVD so I can own it.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Peaks and Valleys
Penny had Monday off from school, so I worked from home with her in tow.
When she checked her blood sugar for lunch, it was crazy high, and I was about to curse the gods of random happenstance... when I remembered that around 9 in the morning, I'd chased Penny out of the kitchen, where she'd been "looking at" the bag with her Easter candy.
To make a long story short... yep, she'd been sneaking candy. And not just Monday, either. Apparently, she's been sneaking chocolate chips and cupcake sprinkles from my baking shelf in the pantry for some time.
Which puts the last couple of weeks' worth of random, unexplainable blood sugar highs in a whole new light.
So I moved the baking stuff up to the top shelf of the pantry, and I put all the candy away in a cabinet she'll need a stool to reach -- none of which guarantees she'll stop, but at least it's harder for her now. I tried to explain to her the damage that high blood sugars do -- we hadn't been very explicit about that before, not wanting to freak her out unnecessarily... but apparently it's now necessary.
But I don't know what else to do. The poor child has inherited my horrible metabolism and my horrible and inaccurate food processing abilities (by which I mean we're both always hungry, even if we've just eaten) and there's a lot more at stake for her than there is for me. How do you expect a seven year old to have the willpower to say, "What I've just eaten should be enough, and therefore I will stop now, even though I still feel like I'm starving," when I myself have trouble with that same thing? How do I discipline her for sneaking candy when my share of Easter candy is already almost gone and I had to make Matt take the rest of it out of the house so I wouldn't eat that, too?
Oh, well.
Diabetes camp is this weekend. I'm waffling between hoping we have a good time and dreading it. I'm trying to hide the "dread" portions of my thoughts from Penny, though, because if she gets even a whiff of lack of enthusiasm from me, it'll color her whole attitude, and the very last thing this needs is for her to be a whiny brat all weekend over things neither of us can control. (I do wish the camp had sent me a schedule of events or something, though. I really don't do well with "wait and see". I'm so freaking anal. Also, I really want to correct the grammar and typos in the info sheets they sent me.)
But on the plus side, I'm taking Friday off from work to pack, so at least there's that, right?
(Oh, don't mind me. I'm PMSing and sleepy.)
When she checked her blood sugar for lunch, it was crazy high, and I was about to curse the gods of random happenstance... when I remembered that around 9 in the morning, I'd chased Penny out of the kitchen, where she'd been "looking at" the bag with her Easter candy.
To make a long story short... yep, she'd been sneaking candy. And not just Monday, either. Apparently, she's been sneaking chocolate chips and cupcake sprinkles from my baking shelf in the pantry for some time.
Which puts the last couple of weeks' worth of random, unexplainable blood sugar highs in a whole new light.
So I moved the baking stuff up to the top shelf of the pantry, and I put all the candy away in a cabinet she'll need a stool to reach -- none of which guarantees she'll stop, but at least it's harder for her now. I tried to explain to her the damage that high blood sugars do -- we hadn't been very explicit about that before, not wanting to freak her out unnecessarily... but apparently it's now necessary.
But I don't know what else to do. The poor child has inherited my horrible metabolism and my horrible and inaccurate food processing abilities (by which I mean we're both always hungry, even if we've just eaten) and there's a lot more at stake for her than there is for me. How do you expect a seven year old to have the willpower to say, "What I've just eaten should be enough, and therefore I will stop now, even though I still feel like I'm starving," when I myself have trouble with that same thing? How do I discipline her for sneaking candy when my share of Easter candy is already almost gone and I had to make Matt take the rest of it out of the house so I wouldn't eat that, too?
Oh, well.
Diabetes camp is this weekend. I'm waffling between hoping we have a good time and dreading it. I'm trying to hide the "dread" portions of my thoughts from Penny, though, because if she gets even a whiff of lack of enthusiasm from me, it'll color her whole attitude, and the very last thing this needs is for her to be a whiny brat all weekend over things neither of us can control. (I do wish the camp had sent me a schedule of events or something, though. I really don't do well with "wait and see". I'm so freaking anal. Also, I really want to correct the grammar and typos in the info sheets they sent me.)
But on the plus side, I'm taking Friday off from work to pack, so at least there's that, right?
(Oh, don't mind me. I'm PMSing and sleepy.)
Monday, January 31, 2011
Examine THIS.
I wasn't going to post today, because I had an appointment for a routine checkup with my ear/nose/throat guy this morning. It was supposed to be a routine five-minute exam.
But when I'd been sitting in the waiting room for nearly an hour past my scheduled appointment time and I got up to find out why, I was told it was because the doctor had just come back from being on vacation and was running behind because he was double-booked.
And that just made me madder. I mean, I don't begrudge the man his vacation. And the time they were running late because he'd had to do emergency surgery that morning, that was understandable. But who the fuck decided that double-booking was a good idea? How does that even make sense? Are they often sitting around, twiddling their thumbs and thinking, "Boy, I bet we could handle twice as many patients as this!" I'm thinking, given how crowded the waiting room is on a day-to-day basis, probably not.
Especially not in the winter, when their younger patients are picking up colds and developing ear and sinus infections, right?
Argh. And if I'd come in an hour late and missed the appointment, they'd have sent me home and charged me for it anyway.
It's not like this is the only doctor who does this to me, either. Gods, our pediatrician always runs at least half an hour behind schedule, if not more. My OB/GYN usually gets me into the exam room close to on-time, but then I sit there for a good twenty minutes (wearing nothing but a paper napkin and socks -- it's a hot look; watch the Paris and Milan runways for it soon!) before the doctor comes in. (Kudos are due for my chiropractor, who not only almost never makes me wait, but keeps coffee and cookies in the waiting room for those rare occasions when I do get stuck out there.)
When I stomped back to my seat, too pissed off to continue reading, my brain started to put together a measurement plan, for the purposes of -- and this is how I know I've well and truly drunk the QA Kool-Aid -- causal analysis and process improvement. It got pretty detailed, there in my head: how long do patients usually sit in the waiting room past their appointment time? How long between when they're brought to an exam room and when they see the doctor? How much time does the doctor spend with them?
And other questions: Are patients informed of unusual delays and given a chance to reschedule? (They knew when I checked in that they were running more than an hour behind schedule. If they'd told me that right off, I might've rescheduled for another day, which would've reduced my level of irritation and helped their schedule deficit. But by the time an hour had passed, I'd invested way too much in it to reschedule.) How much does the doctor like to chat? (My GP loves to just shoot the breeze -- he's got a fantastic "bedside" manner, but it results in lousy waiting times.) How much flex time is built into the schedule to handle drop-in appointments and emergency calls? And how does the office handle especially long delays?
I swear, part of me wants to quit my job and become a process improvement consultant for doctors' offices. I couldn't possibly make things any worse.
But when I'd been sitting in the waiting room for nearly an hour past my scheduled appointment time and I got up to find out why, I was told it was because the doctor had just come back from being on vacation and was running behind because he was double-booked.
And that just made me madder. I mean, I don't begrudge the man his vacation. And the time they were running late because he'd had to do emergency surgery that morning, that was understandable. But who the fuck decided that double-booking was a good idea? How does that even make sense? Are they often sitting around, twiddling their thumbs and thinking, "Boy, I bet we could handle twice as many patients as this!" I'm thinking, given how crowded the waiting room is on a day-to-day basis, probably not.
Especially not in the winter, when their younger patients are picking up colds and developing ear and sinus infections, right?
Argh. And if I'd come in an hour late and missed the appointment, they'd have sent me home and charged me for it anyway.
It's not like this is the only doctor who does this to me, either. Gods, our pediatrician always runs at least half an hour behind schedule, if not more. My OB/GYN usually gets me into the exam room close to on-time, but then I sit there for a good twenty minutes (wearing nothing but a paper napkin and socks -- it's a hot look; watch the Paris and Milan runways for it soon!) before the doctor comes in. (Kudos are due for my chiropractor, who not only almost never makes me wait, but keeps coffee and cookies in the waiting room for those rare occasions when I do get stuck out there.)
When I stomped back to my seat, too pissed off to continue reading, my brain started to put together a measurement plan, for the purposes of -- and this is how I know I've well and truly drunk the QA Kool-Aid -- causal analysis and process improvement. It got pretty detailed, there in my head: how long do patients usually sit in the waiting room past their appointment time? How long between when they're brought to an exam room and when they see the doctor? How much time does the doctor spend with them?
And other questions: Are patients informed of unusual delays and given a chance to reschedule? (They knew when I checked in that they were running more than an hour behind schedule. If they'd told me that right off, I might've rescheduled for another day, which would've reduced my level of irritation and helped their schedule deficit. But by the time an hour had passed, I'd invested way too much in it to reschedule.) How much does the doctor like to chat? (My GP loves to just shoot the breeze -- he's got a fantastic "bedside" manner, but it results in lousy waiting times.) How much flex time is built into the schedule to handle drop-in appointments and emergency calls? And how does the office handle especially long delays?
I swear, part of me wants to quit my job and become a process improvement consultant for doctors' offices. I couldn't possibly make things any worse.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Cold
What I'd hoped was an allergy attack appears to be an honest-to-god cold. I should've been suspicious when I got sniffly; my allergies usually live in my ears, not in my nose.
The good news is that the sore throat from the post-nasal drip is pretty much gone. The bad news is that it's been replaced with that bricks-for-sinuses leadhead sensation and a persistent, if mild, headache.
I took some Tylenol Cold & Sinus before bed last night. One of these days, I'll remember that nothing really works on my colds and that, whether it's listed as "daytime" or "nighttime", it's going to make me groggy but not allow me to get any real rest. Bleh.
And at 4:30, Penny woke up with a coughing attack and kept both Matt and I awake for a good while.
So when the alarm went off at 6... I rolled over and groaned and fumbled for a kleenex so I could breathe, and then decided that I can excuse myself from the morning workouts when I'm feeling miserable and sick.
If I didn't have documents to cover, I'd have thought seriously about staying home and going back to bed today. As it is, I've got six documents sitting in the hopper. Two of them have to be delivered tomorrow, one goes next Monday (but is huge, and there are three others that will be going with it that I haven't received yet) and the other three are advance prepwork for a massive software delivery in a couple of weeks. I'll also find out today whether one of our customers is going to want an unfinished software delivery tomorrow (...yeah, really. I told the manager that if they do that to me, then someone owes me a drink) so that could be a big scramble, too.
That's not even considering the paperwork that's stacking up and waiting for me to have time to get to it.
On the plus side, the ugly documents that were originally on the schedule for Friday have been pushed down a couple of weeks, so if I get through Wednesday's deliveries intact and the deliveries for Monday are in reasonable shape, maybe I can work from home or even take a couple of extra hours off on Thursday or Friday.
The good news is that the sore throat from the post-nasal drip is pretty much gone. The bad news is that it's been replaced with that bricks-for-sinuses leadhead sensation and a persistent, if mild, headache.
I took some Tylenol Cold & Sinus before bed last night. One of these days, I'll remember that nothing really works on my colds and that, whether it's listed as "daytime" or "nighttime", it's going to make me groggy but not allow me to get any real rest. Bleh.
And at 4:30, Penny woke up with a coughing attack and kept both Matt and I awake for a good while.
So when the alarm went off at 6... I rolled over and groaned and fumbled for a kleenex so I could breathe, and then decided that I can excuse myself from the morning workouts when I'm feeling miserable and sick.
If I didn't have documents to cover, I'd have thought seriously about staying home and going back to bed today. As it is, I've got six documents sitting in the hopper. Two of them have to be delivered tomorrow, one goes next Monday (but is huge, and there are three others that will be going with it that I haven't received yet) and the other three are advance prepwork for a massive software delivery in a couple of weeks. I'll also find out today whether one of our customers is going to want an unfinished software delivery tomorrow (...yeah, really. I told the manager that if they do that to me, then someone owes me a drink) so that could be a big scramble, too.
That's not even considering the paperwork that's stacking up and waiting for me to have time to get to it.
On the plus side, the ugly documents that were originally on the schedule for Friday have been pushed down a couple of weeks, so if I get through Wednesday's deliveries intact and the deliveries for Monday are in reasonable shape, maybe I can work from home or even take a couple of extra hours off on Thursday or Friday.
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