Okay. Right now I'm promising the whole world out there that I'm going to do something other than work for at least ten minutes. I think it would be really super if I could spend the aforementioned ten minutes blogging about something other than work. That's looking sort of doubtful at the moment, but by-golly I'm gonna try.
Oh! Here's something! My parents came into town this past weekend and we had a lovely Saturday going to a museum (sorry Daddy, I know you're not much into ancient Egyptian artifacts, but I'm glad you hung in there) and strolling through the aisles of a nearby Central Market. Central Market RULES, just in case you didn't know. The cheese section alone is enough to make you believe in God, that's how friggin huge and incredible this place is. For those of you unfamiliar with this magical culinary oasis, it's one of those monstrous grocery stores that has unbelievably fresh fruits, veggies, and meats, a professional bakery, and more varities of alcohol than you can imagine. Oh and did I mention how insanely expensive it is? Such is the reason we only go there for coffee and this righteous pasta salad I'm addicted to. Funny how this place was more popular with my folks than the mummy exhibit. Eh...to each his own.
My folks got in Friday evening and left bright and early Sunday morn. The 12-ish hour trip from home to here is not something I am personally willing to make just for a one-day visit, but I was overjoyed to see them nonetheless. It's just a little reminder of how much I really do miss them and the rest of my friends and family. I'm thinking that the pain of being away from home is slowly becoming less and less as I am starting to feel like this is my real home now. Now that's not exactly what my loved ones back in Kentucky want to hear, but it's the truth. We had a wonderful day Saturday and I managed to give them the required hugs and kisses goodbye without a single tear. Such a farewell a couple of years ago would be enough to send me into a mild depression for a couple of days.
Look, Momma! I did something other than work for approximately 14 minutes! It probably helped that I was thinking about you and how much you and my daddy mean to me. Thanks for enduring the long hours in the car with Old Russell and whatever he felt the need to listen to on his XM radio, forgiving the cat for his antisocial behavior with his grandparents, and for my inability to pay full price for anything. Oh yeah...and the purse, too.
Love you both... :)
31 October 2006
20 October 2006
baptism by fire
Wow. It has been a really long time since I've sat down to write but honestly, I haven't even had the time or energy or care to even be on the internet at all. Robert made his grand exit on Monday, so the shop has been sort of mine ever since. Needless to say, my thoughts have mostly centered around cleaning up all the messes and tragedies he left and prevent new ones from popping up. Unfortunately, the past three days at work have been hell and I'm hoping that today will be different.
So this is where I apologize (again) for neglecting my blog.
I've managed this shop on many occassions for a week or more and have not endured one-tenth the problems I have since Tuesday. Somebody somewhere is trying to get rid of me, even though I haven't officially been named as the manager. Is there a jeweler's mafia? I suspect somebody wants to see me "sleepin with the fishes" as they say. I haven't given up yet. I know if the big boys at home office give me the job, they will come to see the wisdom in their decision, and soon.
Now I just have to pull out all the stops and say all the right things to convince them to promote me. I'm prety young, a little green, and have quite a bit to learn as a jeweler. Whatever concerns they have about me are valid. But I know all too well that there is much more to being a successful shop manager than simply being an old fart and a master jeweler. It really helps that my my district manager is 100% supportive of me and knows (better than I do) that I will excel in this position. Also, all the managers at the stores my shop does work for have given me their support, too. It is humbling to have so many people, many of whom I have great respect for, encouraging me and sending emails and phone messages on my behalf. It makes me want to work harder for them and do even better than I would have without their support. The downside is all the problems I have dealt with and have to take responsibility for make me feel like I'm letting all these folks down. I really don't want them to regret helping me get this job, if I do indeed become the shop manager.
So that's where my thoughts have been lately. It still may be quite awhile before I know anything for sure. I really hope I get the job. Especially since I already moved by tools and junk to the manager's bench. A bit hasty? Perhaps. But if I want this job, I've gotta act like I've already got it.
So this is where I apologize (again) for neglecting my blog.
I've managed this shop on many occassions for a week or more and have not endured one-tenth the problems I have since Tuesday. Somebody somewhere is trying to get rid of me, even though I haven't officially been named as the manager. Is there a jeweler's mafia? I suspect somebody wants to see me "sleepin with the fishes" as they say. I haven't given up yet. I know if the big boys at home office give me the job, they will come to see the wisdom in their decision, and soon.
Now I just have to pull out all the stops and say all the right things to convince them to promote me. I'm prety young, a little green, and have quite a bit to learn as a jeweler. Whatever concerns they have about me are valid. But I know all too well that there is much more to being a successful shop manager than simply being an old fart and a master jeweler. It really helps that my my district manager is 100% supportive of me and knows (better than I do) that I will excel in this position. Also, all the managers at the stores my shop does work for have given me their support, too. It is humbling to have so many people, many of whom I have great respect for, encouraging me and sending emails and phone messages on my behalf. It makes me want to work harder for them and do even better than I would have without their support. The downside is all the problems I have dealt with and have to take responsibility for make me feel like I'm letting all these folks down. I really don't want them to regret helping me get this job, if I do indeed become the shop manager.
So that's where my thoughts have been lately. It still may be quite awhile before I know anything for sure. I really hope I get the job. Especially since I already moved by tools and junk to the manager's bench. A bit hasty? Perhaps. But if I want this job, I've gotta act like I've already got it.
you broke my heart, fredo
Wow. It has been a really long time since I've sat down to write but honestly, I haven't even had the time or energy or care to even be on the internet at all. Robert made his grand exit on Monday, so the shop has been sort of mine ever since. Needless to say, my thoughts have mostly centered around cleaning up all the messes and tragedies he left and prevent new ones from popping up. Unfortunately, the past three days at work have been hell and I'm hoping that today will be different.
So this is where I apologize (again) for neglecting my blog.
I've managed this shop on many occassions for a week or more and have not endured one-tenth the problems I have since Tuesday. Somebody somewhere is trying to get rid of me, even though I haven't officially been named as the manager. Is there a jeweler's mafia? I suspect somebody wants to see me "sleepin with the fishes" as they say. I haven't given up yet. I know if the big boys at home office give me the job, they will come to see the wisdom in their decision, and soon.
Now I just have to pull out all the stops and say all the right things to convince them to promote me. I'm prety young, a little green, and have quite a bit to learn as a jeweler. Whatever concerns they have about me are valid. But I know all too well that there is much more to being a successful shop manager than simply being an old fart and a master jeweler. It really helps that my my district manager is 100% supportive of me and knows (better than I do) that I will excel in this position. Also, all the managers at the stores my shop does work for have given me their support, too. It is humbling to have so many people, many of whom I have great respect for, encouraging me and sending emails and phone messages on my behalf. It makes me want to work harder for them and do even better than I would have without their support. The downside is all the problems I have dealt with and have to take responsibility for make me feel like I'm letting all these folks down. I really don't want them to regret helping me get this job, if I do indeed become the shop manager.
So that's where my thoughts have been lately. It still may be quite awhile before I know anything for sure. I really hope I get the job. Especially since I already moved by tools and junk to the manager's bench. A bit hasty? Perhaps. But if I want this job, I've gotta act like I've already got it.
So this is where I apologize (again) for neglecting my blog.
I've managed this shop on many occassions for a week or more and have not endured one-tenth the problems I have since Tuesday. Somebody somewhere is trying to get rid of me, even though I haven't officially been named as the manager. Is there a jeweler's mafia? I suspect somebody wants to see me "sleepin with the fishes" as they say. I haven't given up yet. I know if the big boys at home office give me the job, they will come to see the wisdom in their decision, and soon.
Now I just have to pull out all the stops and say all the right things to convince them to promote me. I'm prety young, a little green, and have quite a bit to learn as a jeweler. Whatever concerns they have about me are valid. But I know all too well that there is much more to being a successful shop manager than simply being an old fart and a master jeweler. It really helps that my my district manager is 100% supportive of me and knows (better than I do) that I will excel in this position. Also, all the managers at the stores my shop does work for have given me their support, too. It is humbling to have so many people, many of whom I have great respect for, encouraging me and sending emails and phone messages on my behalf. It makes me want to work harder for them and do even better than I would have without their support. The downside is all the problems I have dealt with and have to take responsibility for make me feel like I'm letting all these folks down. I really don't want them to regret helping me get this job, if I do indeed become the shop manager.
So that's where my thoughts have been lately. It still may be quite awhile before I know anything for sure. I really hope I get the job. Especially since I already moved by tools and junk to the manager's bench. A bit hasty? Perhaps. But if I want this job, I've gotta act like I've already got it.
11 October 2006
new vocabulary words
For the second consecutive weekend, I went out into the world and did something other than work. Since I am the privileged one who makes the schedules for the shop, I gave myself Columbus Day off so Jonathan and I could go deer hunting.
This is not something new to me. We dated almost four years before we got married and I did my time on a handful of hunting excursions. We have pictures of me holding a dead duck like a baby as well as some really flattering ones of me covered in camoflage. I was a "good girlfriend" and accompanied him on these trips without complaint (okay, with little complaint). After the wedding, however, he was on his own. I can see how he would want to take me with him a few times, just so I would understand this part of him and his family, but not with much frequency. Hunters have to be able to sit virtually motionless for hours, be completely silent, give off no scent, and be willing to get up at 5am to go sit in a tree. I do not posess any of these abilities. My presence is in no way helpful. But I've never been out in this part of Texas so I went. I am such a good wife. He better not forget this anytime soon.
Nasty Stickies- These little buggers are the most evil things I've encountered in recent memory. They hide in the sand in Central Texas and stick to anything. Fingers, clothing, socks, hair, you name it. We have a much tamer version of nasty stickies back home in Kentucky I call "cookaburras". Cookaburras have nothing on these things. Just be careful where you pee. Don't say you haven't been warned.
After driving the truck through all sorts of scratchy brush (oh, our poor baby truck!) we managed to get to the hunting lease in time to go on a short hunt before dark. This entailed walking several football field lengths through grass, cactus, and-you guessed it-millions of nasty stickies. We were armed with a bow and arrows and a little tupperware container full of cotton balls soaked with DOE-IN-RUT. For those of you unfamiliar with this way of life, DOE-IN-RUT is a subsance that, to a buck, smells like a lovely doe looking for a one night stand. So we sit up in a tree waiting for some lonely deer to trot along is search of a good time. It is here when I realized that every rustle and scratching noise I hear is just a tease coming from some goofy squirrel, not the next set of antlers going up in my house. I was grateful when night began to fall and we made our way back to camp.
Camp-Our Dodge Ram with an old futon mattress tossed in the truck bed. Also includes a piece-of-crap lantern we just bought (and then broke) and two folding chairs.
We were just sitting down to dine on some sandwiches and beef jerky when my cell phone rang. Two things surprised me here. The first was the fact that I had any cell phone reception at all. I guess the "can you hear me now?" guy made it out here after all. The second was the fact that it was my boss calling me, informing me that he was going to resign the next day. It turns out that he came across some job with an oil driller that requires him to periodically glance at a computer screen in between surfing the internet and watching DVDs. And he's getting insane money to do it. Chump. I really am happy for the guy, but I can't say that I'm too surprised. He's been dropping little hints that something was up in recent weeks. It is still strange that it is actually happening. I guess that the powers that be noticed that I had successfully gone about ten minutes without thinking about work so they dropped this bomb on me. Great. Now I'm going to be all distracted and I won't kill a deer.
Joke-The fact that a) I don't have a hunting license and wasn't going to be killing a deer even if I wanted to, b) I can't even pull back Jonathan's bow because I'm a wimp makes the previous statement a joke. See also irony and not that funny.
We managed to get some sleep that night without getting eaten by some large woodland creature or being awakened by a new colony of nasty stickies on our pillows. I tried to aviod going on the morning hunt since we were going to be up there three or so hours, but no dice. I plodded along like a good wife and tried not to sniff my nose too much or make any sudden movements while up in the tree stand. I'll shorten all this by simply saying that we didn't see anything until we were climbing down and suddenly this huge deer bounds out of a bush right next to us. Oh, Jonathan was mad.
Futility-The act of returning to a deer stand and trying to lure back a deer you just spooked. Once they start running in a particular direction, they usually don't second-guess their instincts and start running back just because they like the smell of those cotton balls.
We planned on going on the morning hunt, do some minor repairs on a nearby feeder, and start heading back home. Yeah, that was the plan. Again, for the benefit of my non-redneck readers (that would be Holly) a deer feeder is a big, 50 gallon can full of corn that has a timer on it that you can program to shoot the corn out several times a day. We completed the necessary repairs, got the busted mechanism to run again, but no corn was coming out. Jonathan takes a stick and starts jamming it up in the hole underneath the can, trying to unblock the opening. He pulled it out and with it came this long string of what appeared to be snot. Oh, that was just so wrong. We ended up having to tip the entire thing over and spill 50+ pounds of yellow corn everywhere. It is at this moment when we discover what was plugging the hole. I jokingly guessed that it was a dead racoon or squirrel but Jonathan said that was actually possible. I braced myself for the inevitable horror as I peeked into the now-dented can.
Corncrete- My term for the hardened, rotten, and molded slab of corn that was clogging the opening in the feeder. The most revolting moment came when we chiseled it out and saw tons of happy maggots frolicking on the other side.
Yeah, it really was as gross as it sounded. We got the feeder back up, scooped most of the non-skanky corn back in and headed for home. And no, I won't be eating much corn for awhile.
Despite the stickies, the hours of tree sitting, the no potty, and the funky corn, it was a good trip. We both won: he got to take his little wifey to see nature and I bought myself a few years of excuses for not going hunting. Now I'm back to reality and dealing with this new mess at work. My soon-to-be-ex-boss Robert is gone for good after Monday, so I'm trying to get the shop straightened out before he makes his grand exit. I'm discovering that even though it was just a matter of time before he quit, I'm taking his departure pretty hard. I really want to be the one to replace him and I'm doing everything in my power to convince the big bosses that I am the best person for the job. It's a nice distraction from the fact that I'm going to be seeing very little of someone who has quickly become one of my closest friends. Kind of a strange way of describing one's boss, but it's the truth. It has been great getting to go to work every day and hang out with fun people like him. The pranks that he has managed to pull off are the stuff of legends. Big shoes to fill.
I think I'll close with that since this particular entry took two sittings and three hours to complete and I still haven't posted my pictures yet. I'll be sure to keep you all updated on the situation at work. I'm sure you are all glued to your computer screens in anticipation of my next blog entry. I'll try to be almost as entertaining and addicting as "Dancing with the Stars".
Dancing with the Stars-One of those revolting, quasi-reality shows that is insanely popular. Jerry Springer doing ballroom dancing? Are you kidding? Still not as bad as Ice Skating with the Stars or Little People, Big World. See also joke and WTF.
This is not something new to me. We dated almost four years before we got married and I did my time on a handful of hunting excursions. We have pictures of me holding a dead duck like a baby as well as some really flattering ones of me covered in camoflage. I was a "good girlfriend" and accompanied him on these trips without complaint (okay, with little complaint). After the wedding, however, he was on his own. I can see how he would want to take me with him a few times, just so I would understand this part of him and his family, but not with much frequency. Hunters have to be able to sit virtually motionless for hours, be completely silent, give off no scent, and be willing to get up at 5am to go sit in a tree. I do not posess any of these abilities. My presence is in no way helpful. But I've never been out in this part of Texas so I went. I am such a good wife. He better not forget this anytime soon.
Nasty Stickies- These little buggers are the most evil things I've encountered in recent memory. They hide in the sand in Central Texas and stick to anything. Fingers, clothing, socks, hair, you name it. We have a much tamer version of nasty stickies back home in Kentucky I call "cookaburras". Cookaburras have nothing on these things. Just be careful where you pee. Don't say you haven't been warned.
After driving the truck through all sorts of scratchy brush (oh, our poor baby truck!) we managed to get to the hunting lease in time to go on a short hunt before dark. This entailed walking several football field lengths through grass, cactus, and-you guessed it-millions of nasty stickies. We were armed with a bow and arrows and a little tupperware container full of cotton balls soaked with DOE-IN-RUT. For those of you unfamiliar with this way of life, DOE-IN-RUT is a subsance that, to a buck, smells like a lovely doe looking for a one night stand. So we sit up in a tree waiting for some lonely deer to trot along is search of a good time. It is here when I realized that every rustle and scratching noise I hear is just a tease coming from some goofy squirrel, not the next set of antlers going up in my house. I was grateful when night began to fall and we made our way back to camp.
Camp-Our Dodge Ram with an old futon mattress tossed in the truck bed. Also includes a piece-of-crap lantern we just bought (and then broke) and two folding chairs.
We were just sitting down to dine on some sandwiches and beef jerky when my cell phone rang. Two things surprised me here. The first was the fact that I had any cell phone reception at all. I guess the "can you hear me now?" guy made it out here after all. The second was the fact that it was my boss calling me, informing me that he was going to resign the next day. It turns out that he came across some job with an oil driller that requires him to periodically glance at a computer screen in between surfing the internet and watching DVDs. And he's getting insane money to do it. Chump. I really am happy for the guy, but I can't say that I'm too surprised. He's been dropping little hints that something was up in recent weeks. It is still strange that it is actually happening. I guess that the powers that be noticed that I had successfully gone about ten minutes without thinking about work so they dropped this bomb on me. Great. Now I'm going to be all distracted and I won't kill a deer.
Joke-The fact that a) I don't have a hunting license and wasn't going to be killing a deer even if I wanted to, b) I can't even pull back Jonathan's bow because I'm a wimp makes the previous statement a joke. See also irony and not that funny.
We managed to get some sleep that night without getting eaten by some large woodland creature or being awakened by a new colony of nasty stickies on our pillows. I tried to aviod going on the morning hunt since we were going to be up there three or so hours, but no dice. I plodded along like a good wife and tried not to sniff my nose too much or make any sudden movements while up in the tree stand. I'll shorten all this by simply saying that we didn't see anything until we were climbing down and suddenly this huge deer bounds out of a bush right next to us. Oh, Jonathan was mad.
Futility-The act of returning to a deer stand and trying to lure back a deer you just spooked. Once they start running in a particular direction, they usually don't second-guess their instincts and start running back just because they like the smell of those cotton balls.
We planned on going on the morning hunt, do some minor repairs on a nearby feeder, and start heading back home. Yeah, that was the plan. Again, for the benefit of my non-redneck readers (that would be Holly) a deer feeder is a big, 50 gallon can full of corn that has a timer on it that you can program to shoot the corn out several times a day. We completed the necessary repairs, got the busted mechanism to run again, but no corn was coming out. Jonathan takes a stick and starts jamming it up in the hole underneath the can, trying to unblock the opening. He pulled it out and with it came this long string of what appeared to be snot. Oh, that was just so wrong. We ended up having to tip the entire thing over and spill 50+ pounds of yellow corn everywhere. It is at this moment when we discover what was plugging the hole. I jokingly guessed that it was a dead racoon or squirrel but Jonathan said that was actually possible. I braced myself for the inevitable horror as I peeked into the now-dented can.
Corncrete- My term for the hardened, rotten, and molded slab of corn that was clogging the opening in the feeder. The most revolting moment came when we chiseled it out and saw tons of happy maggots frolicking on the other side.
Yeah, it really was as gross as it sounded. We got the feeder back up, scooped most of the non-skanky corn back in and headed for home. And no, I won't be eating much corn for awhile.
Despite the stickies, the hours of tree sitting, the no potty, and the funky corn, it was a good trip. We both won: he got to take his little wifey to see nature and I bought myself a few years of excuses for not going hunting. Now I'm back to reality and dealing with this new mess at work. My soon-to-be-ex-boss Robert is gone for good after Monday, so I'm trying to get the shop straightened out before he makes his grand exit. I'm discovering that even though it was just a matter of time before he quit, I'm taking his departure pretty hard. I really want to be the one to replace him and I'm doing everything in my power to convince the big bosses that I am the best person for the job. It's a nice distraction from the fact that I'm going to be seeing very little of someone who has quickly become one of my closest friends. Kind of a strange way of describing one's boss, but it's the truth. It has been great getting to go to work every day and hang out with fun people like him. The pranks that he has managed to pull off are the stuff of legends. Big shoes to fill.
I think I'll close with that since this particular entry took two sittings and three hours to complete and I still haven't posted my pictures yet. I'll be sure to keep you all updated on the situation at work. I'm sure you are all glued to your computer screens in anticipation of my next blog entry. I'll try to be almost as entertaining and addicting as "Dancing with the Stars".
Dancing with the Stars-One of those revolting, quasi-reality shows that is insanely popular. Jerry Springer doing ballroom dancing? Are you kidding? Still not as bad as Ice Skating with the Stars or Little People, Big World. See also joke and WTF.
04 October 2006
for reasons still unknown, a letter to the cat
Dear Oliver,
You are the cat. I am your momma. Not in the literal sense, but sort of. I know that you are unable to read this letter I am writing to you, but oh well. People tend to engage in strange behavior when they acquire a pet, so I suppose I am just participating in this aspect of human nature.
You are the cat. I am your momma. Not in the literal sense, but sort of. I know that you are unable to read this letter I am writing to you, but oh well. People tend to engage in strange behavior when they acquire a pet, so I suppose I am just participating in this aspect of human nature.
Oh, I miss you being so small.I remember in the days after we brought you home, I constantly worried about you. Were you lonely while Jonathan and I were at work? Were you going to eat our poinsettia when we weren’t looking and die a horrible death? And most importantly, were you secretly pooping somewhere other than your litter box? Since then, I have determined these answers to be no, probably, and definitely. Luckily for me, I just don’t get quite so upset about these things anymore. I’m pretty sure you are asleep about 80% of the time we are absent; you always seem sort of surprised whenever we come home and mildly annoyed when we turn the lights on. You are rather passionate and aggressive when it comes to chewing plants, so we moved the poinsettia from the kitchen to the garage where it promptly died in the sweltering Texas heat. Better it than you, little kitty. I have to give you some credit in the pooping department, however. I’d give you 5 out of 5 if you’d just cover up what you do and try to keep some of the litter in its box. That all changed when we discovered how well and how frequently you had been fertilizing our aloe plant. We appreciate your attempt at contributing to our household chores, but really. It’s not necessary.
That being said, you are way better when it comes to poo than puke. I have been shocked at a) the variety of items I have discovered when I dissect your regurgitations and b) the fact that I have the wherewithal to actually pick through it without vomiting myself. It is good to know where all my ponytail holders have been vanishing to. I was beginning to think that there was some kind of space-time vortex that abducted them, similar to the one that takes socks from the dryer. I came home this evening to you, happy and purring, and my husband on all fours grumbling to himself as he scrubbed the carpet where you yakked up that string I shouldn’t have let you play with. I didn’t feel to bad for your daddy since he has not scooped one poo out of your litter box since we adopted you last April (except that week I spent in Ohio). But when you threw up again in the exact same spot as soon as he cleaned up the first pile? Yeah, I think one was calculated. Bad kitty! Bad!
Oh, I know you can’t really help it, though. I have discovered that I can not hold a grudge against you, regardless of the severity of your crime. Or crimes, as they usually are. One minute you are sprinting through the house, tearing down curtains, biting my toes (hard!), and snacking on my husband’s bootlaces. Every time you leap from the top of my computer monitor to the top of the bookshelf (like you just did), I swear you are going to split my monitor from its already wobbly base. But then I see you lounging up there, bathing yourself and dreaming about jumping from the bookshelf to the ceiling fan. FYI: that ain’t gonna happen. I forgive you for bringing down the dining room curtains on multiple occasions because they are the ugliest in the house. I don’t mind you biting my toes because you bite Jonathan even harder. I tolerate your shoelace addiction because they are replaceable but you, my darling, are not.
Oliver, I think it's time we had an intervention about these bootlaces. Your bingeing and purging is beginning to concern me.Faults and all, I’m still glad you’re around. I have never known a cat that can retrieve large stuffed animals so well and enjoys slurping toilet water as much as you do. Life in our little gray house is just a bit more fun and interesting now that we have a little gray cat.
Here you are, digging through the bathroom trash searching for used Q-tips that you can chew on and then leave in my bed. Thanks.Okay, Oliver. It’s almost 10:30. Time for you to wake up from your bookshelf loft and start running amok some more or none of us will be sleeping tonight. Go get Bloop-Bloop and we’ll play fetch.
This is the stuffed animal known as "Bloop-Bloop". He gets his name from the drippy bubbly sound he makes when you squeeze his left fin. I like him because he always looks surprised like someone who has had one too many eyebrow lifts.
Come on. Let’s go, cat. I’m talking to you. You. Down. Now.
I’m thinking maybe we should get a dog.
Love,
Momma
02 October 2006
gravity.
It's one of those pesky little things in this world that you can't avoid. No matter how high up you go, it's bound to get the better of you at some point.
In my continuing efforts to "get a life" and "go do something", I went with my husband to an airshow just a few miles from our house yesterday afternoon. The Air Force Thunderbirds would be doing a demonstration and there would be several types of aircraft one could peek into and chat with a hot pilot in a green jumpsuit about. Aviation isn't one of those things that gets me all hot and bothered, but it was better than my original plan to make a trek to Wal-Mart for some much-needed Quaker Oatmeal and and make a dent in our stockpiles of dirty laundry. So I slathered on the SPF-50, cringed at the sight of my legs in khaki shorts, and accompanied my husband to the airport with a smile.
I've pretty much made my peace with the fact that Texas is insanely hot. But I consider 95 degrees on the first day of October to be borderline ridiculous. But it is better than the 110 just a few weeks back, so I was trying not to complain. We had been strolling around for about an hour or so, looking at all the different displays, pointing out the worst dressed people, and noting that a certain FedEx jet was likely the one that wakes us up every morning at 6am with a sonic boom. Thanks to our good ole war on terror, no one could bring in any liquids or food of their own; we went as long as we could without giving up three bucks for a bottle of water. However, I learned the hard way just how long was too long. I got a funky feeling in my stomach and started making my way over to the snack booth, ready to give them the equivalent of my 401K for a bottle of Dasani. As I huffed out my request to the vendor, I felt my legs beginning to give out. I quickly found myself flopped out on my butt on the concrete, trying to keep from passing out. I was lucid enough to become morbidly embarassed and get up to retrieve my water from the guy who saw me go down and only responded with, "Sure is hot today...". Jerk.
Okay, so here's why I was so ticked off about this:
Number one: If somebody tells you they think they're about to pass out (which I did) and they suddenly disappear behind your table, the least you can do is ask if they are alright and help them up. He was counting my money when I went down and was doing the same when I climbed back up.
Number two: Since when can I not handle heat? I spent every summer from 1995 to 2001 in band camp and never got more than a little sweaty and sunburned. Even when we had a tyrannical colorguard instructor who thought water was for wimps. Hmmmm. Maybe he's related to my airshow water nazi. I also get regular exercise. I'm not some freeloader who lays around in a recliner all day popping bon-bons, ho-hos, and dum-dums. I work very hard at everything I do. One hour in 90+ degree heat should not be able to take me out. But it did.
This incident, despite the long, drawn-out description, really wasn't that big of a deal. I got hot, went down, and felt like an idiot. It just make me kind of realize that so many things in this world demand the utmost priority. For example, you should drink lots of water in the heat or "you're just asking for it". Check the batteries in the smoke detector twice a year if you don't want your family to perish in a fire. Floss every single day or you're just plain nasty. Watch out for identity theft. Eat leafy green vegetables, but not spinach. No matter how much you do or don't do, you're going to miss something critical. It's impossible to put everything at the top of your to-do list. I just try to be a nice person, a good employee, and a decent cook. The gravity of wrinkle prevention and taking a multivitamin is just not something I have time to torture myelf about. I have to draw the line somewhere.
So that's my take on Isaac Newton's discovery. I guess one can have an epiphany whether an apple drops on your head or if you just fall on your own butt.
In my continuing efforts to "get a life" and "go do something", I went with my husband to an airshow just a few miles from our house yesterday afternoon. The Air Force Thunderbirds would be doing a demonstration and there would be several types of aircraft one could peek into and chat with a hot pilot in a green jumpsuit about. Aviation isn't one of those things that gets me all hot and bothered, but it was better than my original plan to make a trek to Wal-Mart for some much-needed Quaker Oatmeal and and make a dent in our stockpiles of dirty laundry. So I slathered on the SPF-50, cringed at the sight of my legs in khaki shorts, and accompanied my husband to the airport with a smile.
I've pretty much made my peace with the fact that Texas is insanely hot. But I consider 95 degrees on the first day of October to be borderline ridiculous. But it is better than the 110 just a few weeks back, so I was trying not to complain. We had been strolling around for about an hour or so, looking at all the different displays, pointing out the worst dressed people, and noting that a certain FedEx jet was likely the one that wakes us up every morning at 6am with a sonic boom. Thanks to our good ole war on terror, no one could bring in any liquids or food of their own; we went as long as we could without giving up three bucks for a bottle of water. However, I learned the hard way just how long was too long. I got a funky feeling in my stomach and started making my way over to the snack booth, ready to give them the equivalent of my 401K for a bottle of Dasani. As I huffed out my request to the vendor, I felt my legs beginning to give out. I quickly found myself flopped out on my butt on the concrete, trying to keep from passing out. I was lucid enough to become morbidly embarassed and get up to retrieve my water from the guy who saw me go down and only responded with, "Sure is hot today...". Jerk.
Okay, so here's why I was so ticked off about this:
Number one: If somebody tells you they think they're about to pass out (which I did) and they suddenly disappear behind your table, the least you can do is ask if they are alright and help them up. He was counting my money when I went down and was doing the same when I climbed back up.
Number two: Since when can I not handle heat? I spent every summer from 1995 to 2001 in band camp and never got more than a little sweaty and sunburned. Even when we had a tyrannical colorguard instructor who thought water was for wimps. Hmmmm. Maybe he's related to my airshow water nazi. I also get regular exercise. I'm not some freeloader who lays around in a recliner all day popping bon-bons, ho-hos, and dum-dums. I work very hard at everything I do. One hour in 90+ degree heat should not be able to take me out. But it did.
This incident, despite the long, drawn-out description, really wasn't that big of a deal. I got hot, went down, and felt like an idiot. It just make me kind of realize that so many things in this world demand the utmost priority. For example, you should drink lots of water in the heat or "you're just asking for it". Check the batteries in the smoke detector twice a year if you don't want your family to perish in a fire. Floss every single day or you're just plain nasty. Watch out for identity theft. Eat leafy green vegetables, but not spinach. No matter how much you do or don't do, you're going to miss something critical. It's impossible to put everything at the top of your to-do list. I just try to be a nice person, a good employee, and a decent cook. The gravity of wrinkle prevention and taking a multivitamin is just not something I have time to torture myelf about. I have to draw the line somewhere.
So that's my take on Isaac Newton's discovery. I guess one can have an epiphany whether an apple drops on your head or if you just fall on your own butt.
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