I know I feel better.

Let's all give a big round of applause to -r-, who hauled herself up off her sickbed to arrange Blogshare 2.0. Wasn't that something? It was like a big, bloggy group therapy session, reading and commenting on all those posts. So, thanks, -r-! Looking forward to Blogshare the Third--which at this rate will probably have at least 100 participants. So...good luck wrangling the monster you've created! Hee.

Blogshare participants

Okay, first read the great anonymous post below. Then go read some more. Here are the participants:

The Adventures of Shelagh

Alice's Wonderland

Alyndabear

And You Know What Else

Bright Yellow World

Daily Tannenbaum

Du Wax Loolu

Elise

Everything I Like Causes Cancer

Face Down

Fretting the Small Stuff

For the Long Run

Galoot's Hoot Page

Granted Null

Grumpy Frump

Just Below 63

Lawyerish

Life After AC

Liz Land

Malfeasance

Mamma Ren

Muse On Vacation

Muze News

Nancy Pearl Wannabe

Not What You Think It Is

One New Duck

Rankin Inlet: A Journey Northwards

Red Red Whine

Reflections in the Snow-Covered Hills

The Reluctant Blogger

Sass Attack

Sauntering Soul

Sparkling Cipher

Stefanie Says

Three Carnations

Tracy Out Loud

Way Way Up

Anonymous Says

I am quitting my job.

I haven't decided how, or when. I just know that I'm leaving.

And this totally sucks, because I really like my job. I think I have the best job. So I guess I have to move away. I'm not going to find anything better than the job I have now.

Yeah, this sucks.

I traditionally quit my job because I hate the boss. It happens that I really like my boss and everyone I work with, but I can't stand the big boss or his management style. Something has to change, and it's easiest to change myself.

The big boss has been around for a while, but he's relatively new to the job. I never had anything to do with him before, so I basically ignored him. It turns out that he's a jerk. Great. Just what I needed.

I always know it's time to quit when I get excited at the thought of leaving. This time it's pretty bittersweet, because, as I mentioned earlier, I really like my job. It's a great job, at least when I can ignore the big boss and all of his assorted hangers-on. (Yes, of course there are hangers-on. They might be worse than he is.) But it's getting harder and harder to ignore him. He has plans: big plans! He's such a visionary that it really is a shame that his plans are so terrible. I'm not sure if he actually thinks about them or if he just gets an idea in the middle of the night and decides to implement it the next day. Can we afford it? Is there a cheaper or better way to accomplish the same goal? Is the goal achievable or even worth trying to achieve? Who cares! If he announces that we're doing it, he'll look GREAT! That's the important thing! By the time the bills have to be paid, he'll be long gone!

Yeah, I can't possibly work there much longer.

I'm not sure if I should take comfort in the fact that just about everyone else feels the same way. For a while I thought we could suffer through it together -- after all, we almost never have to see the big boss, we just have to deal with his e-mails and his hangers-on -- but I don't think I can suffer through several more years of this.

So now I'm in a bind. If I was posting this on my own blog, I'd ask you if you know of any jobs in my industry. Unfortunately, I'm on Liz's blog today. So I guess this is the wrong day to ask whether you have ideas about jobs. I will say that I'm willing to move and that I'm really really good at what I do. I am proud of my work, at least when it doesn't involve the big boss. I love the people I work with and I really believe in the cause we're supporting. It's a good one. Too bad I can't stick with it.

Tomorrow I will not be myself.

I will be someone else. Another someone else will be me.

Yes, it's time for BlogShare 2.0! That festive time when bloggers all over the 'sphere swap places for a day, in order to post things they might not want to post on their own blogs. The first one produced some great reading. I have no doubt this one will, as well. Tomorrow a list of links will be published, for anyone who wants to check out all 37 of the participating posts.

See you tomorrow--but I won't say where. It's a secret.

Is this better?

This picture was sent to me by the BFF, with a note: "for god's sake, use this one next time."

So, here it is. See, he's not always a freak with a chip clip in his bangs. Sometimes he's a freak without a chip clip in his bangs. Hee.

This morning, I experienced the first real sign that spring is nearly here. I ate my first Thin Mint. Whoo hoo! (Don't worry, Stefanie, I ordered some Tagalongs, too.) Gotta love those Girl Scouts.

I had a pretty good weekend, including spending a bit of quality time with New Guy Friday night. Then he went off to get his kids, and I spent Saturday checking things off my to-do list. One of the items was checked off by actually remembering, in time, the huge used book sale put on yearly by a local private school. I NEVER remember until it's too late, but this year I did, and scored a big stack of mostly hardcover books for a mere $21. Whoo hoo!

Yesterday my new next-door neighbors put up a swingset and a see-saw in their backyard. There haven't been any more toddler sightings, but I think the installation of playground equipment makes it pretty clear what's coming, don't you? Poor Dolly and McBeady.

Last night I watched a chunk of the pre-Oscar coverage on E!, and made it through most of the ceremony before dozing off on the couch. My personal highlight? Gary Busey insanely accosting Ryan Seacrest, Jennifer Garner and Laura Linney on the red carpet. WHAT THE HELL WAS HE ON? Jennifer Garner's expression was priceless.

And, I just have to put this out there...Tilda Swinton rocks, there is no doubt, but WOULD IT KILL HER TO PUT ON A LITTLE MASCARA?! It's the Oscars, for cryin' out loud.

I'm probably just a little jealous of the amount of self-confidence it takes to go out in public, much less walk the red carpet, with invisible eyelashes. I could never do it.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I have to figure out what the hell I'm going to share anonymously with the blogosphere on Wednesday. All of you people who've been working on yours since the LAST blogshare? I think I hate you. (But in a good way.)

Enough flotsam. And now, for a change...some jetsam.

Sorry. I just can't seem to get my brain to function in a well-thought out, coherent, clear-cut tale sort of way these days. Welcome to my world. (And boy, if you could join me in my head for my dreams lately, you'd really know what I mean. Crazy stuff.) Though I really need to kick said brain into gear soon, since the upcoming BlogShare is next week, and I won't want to be posting "random pieces of my head" for that. Hee.

So, what's up?

Well, I am officially cast in the play. The director hasn't finalized the cast--she's having some trouble deciding on the two lead characters, the "young" guys--but she's chosen the three women and a couple of the older guys, and we start rehearsal next week. It's a straight-up, by the numbers farce, complete with wacky cross-dressing and a lecherous IRS agent, and truthfully, it probably wouldn't have been my first choice for my triumphant return to the stage (hee), but it's the right director at the right time, so I'm happy to do it.

What's up with New Guy, you ask? Well, he is feeling somewhat better, both emotionally and physically, and he is trying to be more considerate, I can tell, so...we'll see. Funny moment...he had a root canal recently (which still isn't quite finished, actually) and when I asked how it was feeling post-procedure, he said there had only been one time in the last few days when he got one of those electric "jolts" from the nerve that had been bedeviling him so much before. "Oh, that was just me sticking a pin into the voodoo doll I made of you," I said straight-faced. "Well," he said, "that probably explains the pain in my back, too, then." And we laughed. It's good to laugh together. It makes me remember why I'm not ready to give up on him.

Would you like to know what I love most about my cat, Charlie? Well, I'll tell you, anyway. Hee. He's kind of an odd fellow, and he's not big on sleeping on the bed with me during the night, but in the morning, as soon as the snooze button gets hit for the first time, he HAS to come over and wedge himself into the space between my thighs. He prefers me to lie on my back or stomach for this, and crook one leg, so there's a perfect cat-spaced shape for him to fill. He then nestles there, purring and making kitty biscuits, until I actually give the "I'm getting up now" signal. It's so cute. It's our "thing." Of course, it doesn't make it any easier to get out of bed. "I have to lie here a little longer--I can't disturb Charlie." Cats are weird. As are cat ladies.

And, as further proof of my insanity...would you like to know my favorite thing about my dog, Pudge? It's the "victory lap" he takes after he poops. No, really. The actual decision as to placement of the poop within the yard is very deliberate and lengthy, and then once he's done he immediately takes a sprint around the yard, grinning like a doggy fool. He does it EVERY TIME. It cracks me up. And yet, I understand...it DOES feel good to have pooped, doesn't it?

Moving on.

I can't tell you how irritated I am with our local weather forecasters lately. They kind of missed the boat on the Great Ice Storm of Ought-Seven--oh, they predicted ice, but they failed to predict the SEVERITY of the ice, and apparently they're embarrassed about it, and determined not to miss the boat again, so they have done nothing but SOUND THE ALARM over and over since then. The problem with that? Well, none of their dire predictions have come true, and I'm getting tired of the constant state of panic they apparently desire for us to be in. It's FEBRUARY. There might be freezing rain or snow. We get it. Back off. Two or three times in the last month my mother has called me at work to see if I "made it in okay." Umm...yeah, why wouldn't I? "Well, on the news they're saying Tulsa has ice." Well, they're wrong. Unless you count that crust on the top of Dolly and McBeady's water bowl outside. And, while that's annoying for Dolly and McBeady, it hardly affects my ability to drive myself to work. Sheesh.

Okay, it's probably time to do some work. And maybe eat some M&Ms. Yum....M&Ms.

Happy One-Day-Belated Birthday to the BFF

If, indeed he is still my BFF after seeing this picture of himself posted for the interwebs to see. He is actually capable of taking an attractive picture, but since all he ever sends me are the goofy ones, goofy it shall be. He should consider this payback for the fake Time Magazine cover he gave me for Christmas a few years ago, which features one of the least flattering photos ever taken of me (I was in the middle of coloring my hair, for cryin' out loud), but which I feel compelled to display prominently in my house, as he took the trouble to frame it very nicely. And, you know, it was a gift.

Happy birthday, BFF. You will always be older than me. Hee.

In other news: there have been no further toddler sightings, much to the relief of Dolly and McBeady. There is no official cast list yet for the play, but I'm pretty sure I'm in, so the next few weeks will be pretty busy. New Guy caught the flu at his convention and sounded like death warmed over when got in late last night. I didn't even mention the play. Now that MY time is limited, he will probably actually want to see me. That's the way those things work, isn't it? Or is that just my life? Sigh.

The return of Friday Flotsam

Bits and pieces, bits and pieces.

The Susan Werner concert Wednesday night was amazing. If you don't know who she is, you should find out. Right now. You won't regret it. Gorgeous voice, very funny, very smart. I have a huge girl crush on her.

You know, I really feel that Valentine's Day is a made-up holiday, invented to enrich the card, candy and flower people, with the added benefit of making single people feel unworthy. Still, just once in my adult life, I would like a boy to give me a big bunch of overpriced flowers. Maybe Next Guy. Sigh.

My boss did give out the yearly box of Russell Stover candy. He went with the "International" box this year. His mother, technically the owner of the company, but who prefers to think of herself as a co-worker/friend/surrogate mother, came in with the more traditional red-cellophane-wrapped box. Candy for days! This VD workplace tradition was started by the founder of the company years ago. (He passed away a few years ago, sadly.) He would come in every year and give all the "girls" a big box of Russell Stover. (Not the guys. He was too old school for that, I guess. His son is more inclusive. He gives them to everyone.) One year no candy was given. Quelle horror! We had this new sales rep, let's call her Rude Bitch. One of the other sales reps was buying those itty-bitty boxes of Russell Stover to give to some of her best customers, and asked Rude Bitch if she wanted in on it. "I would NEVER insult my customers with Russell Stover!" she screeched. "Who eats that stuff?" Well, nobody at my workplace ate it that year, for sure. Founder never said a word, but he heard the screeching, of course, his feelings were hurt, and there was no candy given that year. Thanks, Rude Bitch! She didn't last too long, fortunately. Man, was she rude. She used to try to talk to me while I was on the phone with customers. More than once, I actually gave her the hand. R-U-D-E. At any rate, my boss continues with the tradition his father started, and sometimes even says, "Here's your candy from Dad." It's sweet.

What else is sweet? My contest winner gift package from Noelle. A big bag of dark chocolate peanut M&Ms, some conversation hearts, a David Sedaris book, a mix CD inspired by her sister's dog, Lola...delightful! Thanks, Christmas Christmas Tree!


What's not so sweet? The weather. It was 69 degrees and gorgeous yesterday. Today it's cold and gray, and this weekend we will have potentially record-setting rain, possibly turning to snow. I need me some spring, and I need it now.


Yesterday, gorgous though it was, was very, very windy, which caused some scattered power surges and outages. Our work print server did not fare well in the surge (can you say "blue screen of death"?), and we were unable to print anything. That is not good. Particularly since the boss, who is the go-to person for problems with our system, which I believe is held together by the cyber version of chewing gum and shoelaces, is out of town for a week. He did a little magic via his laptop and "go to my PC," and figured out a work-around, but it was a really aggravating day. For a while we thought we were going to have to hand-write delivery tickets, and you can imagine the joy that brought! Ah, computers...you make our lives so much easier...except when you're making them hell.


Speaking again of weather, I particularly don't want it to snow Sunday afternoon, as I am planning to go to auditions for a play a friend of mine is directing. She specifically asked me to come, which generally doesn't happen unless there's a part you're really right for, and you've got a pretty good shot of getting cast. (Note to any local theatre people reading--I have not been pre-cast. I know that's a touchy issue.) I think it's time for my hiatus to come to an end. I must admit that, in addition to my very valid reason of simple burn-out, I also had been hesitating to get involved in a heavy rehearsal schedule because I didn't want to seriously impact my time available to spend with New Guy. (Hey, it's still new. I wasn't planning to stay this available forever.) But since he's been in such a FUNK lately, I figure I might as well. If he'd rather sit at home and mope than be with me, I'll make other arrangements for my time. Besides, people are starting to talk. I keep running into people who say, with a concerned look, "Why haven't we seen your picture in the paper? Aren't you doing any shows?" So, in order to forestall any rumors to the effect that I am suffering from a incurable disease, or simply--gasp!--haven't been getting cast, I'd better make a move. I'll let you know how it goes.


I have new neighbors, in the house next door that has been empty for some time. The house with a previously virtually-unused backyard that Dolly and McBeady have felt free to call their own for years. The house under which they hide in times of stress. I haven't figured out yet which of the people I see are living there, and which are just visiting/helping to move, but yesterday evening Pudge and I went outside to see...TODDLERS, zooming around the yard next door in a giant battery-operated car. They immediately came running to the fence and started yelling and gesturing at Pudge, which completely freaked him out, and turned him into a barking fool. Fortunately, the mother (who looks WAY too young to have kids, but what do I know--I'm old) immediately started in with the "we don't act that way with dogs" talk, but I'm concerned. Oh, I have nothing against toddlers, per se, I was one once, but they are a timid feral cat's worst nightmare. I may never see Dolly and McBeady in the daylight again. Poor things. I relayed this news to my mother, and she said "well, why don't you go talk to them?" (The neighbors, that is, not Dolly and McBeady.) I just laughed. And say what? "Please don't allow your children outside. They bother the strays." We'll just have to all learn how to get along somehow.


I can't wait to see what record-setting rain will do to the giant mudslide that is currently residing in my other neighbor's front yard and my driveway, just above the storm drain, and just next to the pile of loose gravel that was thrown down to replace the part of the street that was jackhammered up so the Cox Communications can bury their cables. Thanks, Cox. As usual...you suck.


Okay, I believe I have rambled on long enough. Today is my monthly "early day," so I'll be out of here before too long. I have big plans for the afternoon. I plan to go stock up on cat food, so that if the direst weather predictions come true, I won't have to leave the house in a monsoon just to supply the little buggers with their canned Friskies fix.

Yes, my life is truly rich and full. I hope your weekends are all just as splendid.

Happy birthday to "the Steve"

Today is the birthday of the BFF's beau. Isn't he handsome? Isn't the BFF a lucky boy? Don't you wish your boyfriend was handsome like Steve? (And he's even handsomer in color!) Plus, he's as nice as he is good-looking. And he puts up with BFF, and by extension, me. For that, he should get an award.

So, happy birthday, Steve!

Not much. What's new with you?

I didn't intentionally take a blog break...I was just getting tired of whining about my love life, I guess. Heh. So what IS up with New Guy? Well, in a nutshell...New Guy's method of dealing with HIS stress (which makes no sense to me, but I'm not a guy) causes ME stress. Neither of us seems ready to walk away yet, though...so I guess we just try a little harder to speak each other's languages until one of us has had enough? Is that what we do? I don't have a better plan. He's leaving town tomorrow to attend a convention, and I won't see him again for a few days. Maybe we'll both be seeing things more clearly by then.

Moving on.

I'm just trying to keep busy. Friday night I had dinner with a friend. Saturday I had lunch with some of the cat ladies. Sunday we had our first "Fridiron" rehearsal. I'm a little disappointed with that--I was hoping for a somewhat bigger role than last year, but the director had a lot of people to shoehorn into the show this year, so...it is what it is. Last night I had dinner with New Guy. This afternoon I have a photo shoot for the "Fridiron," have to do my charitable litterbox scooping, and then, if I have any energy left, some friends are starting a book club of sorts this evening. No assigned reading, just bring something to eat and drink and talk about reading, make recommendations, loan/borrow books. Sounds fun. Tomorrow night I'm seeing Susan Werner, one of my favorite singer/songwriters, in concert at my church.

I'm free on Thursday--anybody want to take me out for Valentine's Day? Hee.

I've been much better the last few days about working out and doing yoga, and, as usual, I'm amazed at how well the yoga clears my mind. And the knots in my muscles (internalize your tension much, Liz?). Now, if only I could do it 24 hours a day.

Boy, do I love my dog these days. Seriously. Aren't dogs great? He's all: "I love you. I still love you. I love you again. Can I spend the rest of my life with my head in your lap? Did you hear that sigh? It means I love you. You're home from work? Nothing more magnificent has ever happened to me. I love you."

I love my cats, too, of course, but with cats it's more: "I have decided to drape myself across your body and allow you to adore me. Wait, why are you getting up? I'm not through being adored, damn it! Oh, you're getting food--is it for me? Why not? Get back here and adore me some more!"

How do people live without animals? I couldn't do it. Men? Yeah, that I could do. Cats and dogs? Never.

Remember that you are dust...

Today is Ash Wednesday, for those of us who observe it, and I decided to go downtown to the big church on my lunch hour for the service. I love my friendly, casual little church, but sometimes I want something a bit more...cathedral-esque. (Besides, my church's service is at 6:30 tonight, and that's kind of an awkward time...not right after work, but not enough time to do anything between work and church...you get it.)

So, downtown I went. Our new state bishop was there--a nice surprise. I've been an Episcopalian for 20+ years now, but I never stop getting a little thrill when I see that miter hat and staff processing down the aisle. It's just so...churchy.

"Cool," I thought. "Maybe the bishop will impose my ashes!" (Do you all know how that works? For those of you who don't do Ash Wednesday--the priest dips his thumb in an ash/oil mixture and marks a cross on your forehead. It remains there pretty much for the rest of the day, and, in this part of the country, people look at you funny, and often ask: "Did you know you have a smudge on your forehead?")

But first we had to get to that point.

Remember the priest I mentioned a while back, in relation to whisk brooms and ambulances? Well, the downtown church is where he serves, and he was selected to give the sermon today. That man never does anything less than enthusiastically, apparently. It was a very enthusiastic sermon. You may also take "enthusiastic" to mean "a little long." Come on, Father...I appreciate your passion, but we're on our lunch hours here.

Finally he wrapped it up, and we went on with the rest of the service. Time for ashes--oh, but the bishop is on the other side of the aisle. My ashes will be imposed by Father Enthusiasm. (And really...his enthusiasm is quite delightful. It's just so...well, enthusiastic, that I can't help commenting.) I was sitting about 2/3 of the way back, so I got a chance to check out the ashes on the foreheads of the people in front of me, and I wanted to laugh. Turns out his ash imposition is done as enthusiastically as everything else. I have never had such a large, well-defined cross on my forehead. Most priests will give you one swish across, one swish up-and-down. It often looks more like a smudge than a cross, specifically. (Which is probably why so many people kindly point it out to you!) Not this guy. Very deliberately, up-down-up. Left-right-left. There is NO DOUBT that this is a cross. (I took a picture with my phone, but since I don't yet have the accoutrements necessary to download, I can't share it with you. Maybe someday.)

I feel well and truly ashed. (And the bishop served me communion, so there's that.)

Otherwise, nothing much going on here. The weather is schizophrenic. Monday we set a record high--81 degrees. This morning there was a touch of snow on the ground. It's insane. (Is this what it would feel like to live in Britney's head? Sorry. Hee.)

This weekend we have our first get-together/rehearsal for the "Fridiron." Thank goodness. I need to get involved with something creative. And something that will keep me from dwelling on how things are going/not going with New Guy.

And how is that? I'm not sure. His phone died, the replacement isn't operating correctly (bad SIMM card, he thinks) and he's had evening rehearsals and a concert to deal with, so we've only exchanged some brief emails. Yes, of course he could call me from a landline somewhere, but my number is in his phone, and he doesn't know it by heart. I can't say anything about that, since I'd be hard pressed to remember his number without MY phone, either. I think there's a 7 in it. Maybe a 5? Definitely a couple of 3s. The perils of modern technology. Sigh.

Better

I'm feeling better today. It would be hard not to--it's a beautiful, sunny, breezy day...and it's 76 degrees. "But wait," you're saying, "the last time you posted you were talking about snow. What gives?" Astute observation, internets. What gives, indeed?

Well, it did snow. Only a couple of inches, though, nowhere near the 6-12 they threatened. I mean...forecast. And it didn't really stick to the streets. The next day it warmed up, melted off, and then the weekend was gorgeous. I'm wearing flip-flops today--February be damned. I'd be wearing capris, too...if I had bothered to shave my legs lately.

"So, " you're thinking, "I guess she hasn't seen New Guy recently, then."

Not since our little discussion, no. Oh, calm down...we've communicated via email and telephone, I just haven't SEEN him. He headed out Friday right after school to go see his kids, and didn't get home until very late last night. So late he didn't even call me with the usual "yes, I made it back alive" call. Which had me a little concerned. But we spoke this morning, and he said he's feeling "a little better," so...we'll see. I don't even know what to think at this point. So, let's just move on.

I'm feeling better physically. Not one hundred percent, but much better. And I think the Hot Brazilian Miracle Elixir did help. Oh, I wasn't magically healed overnight, but I think the cycle of symptoms moved through more quickly than usual, and I didn't end up at the doctor's office, begging for antibiotics to treat a secondary bacterial infection, like I usually do when I get a cold. And I never lost my voice or my ability to swallow comfortably. So that's good!

The most exciting point of the weekend was purchasing the DVD boxed set of "Kolchak: The Night Stalker." Are any of you old enough to remember that show? I loved it as a kid. Darren McGavin stalking monsters--what more could you want? Well...you could use a 40% off coupon and some rewards bucks to acquire it for under $10. Woo hoo!

See how easy it is to make me happy? Someone should appreciate how easily pleased and low-maintenance I am, and do anything to keep me around. Shouldn't someone? Ahem.