smiling on foot

There’s a weird situation going on with the front door of this house. First, a little description for you. The front of this house looks like many old country houses. It is 2 floors with the roof coming to a cute little point at the top. It has a farmer’s porch with four little cement stairs that lead right up to the door. It’s a screen door and then a wooden door with a little window that has a grimy little curtain on it. When you walk into the front door, you see a wee hallway in front of you with a door on the left and a door straight ahead. These 2 doors (I’m assuming) go to the 2 downstairs apartments. On the right wall is a sad little book shelf (perhaps initially for a child) that has some magazines or something on it. Towards your right (but still straight), there’s a set of stairs with an old fashioned banister going up to my penthouse bachelorette suite. These stairs are not as numerous or narrow as the ones in the back, so I primarily used the front stairs for moving. However, the landlords repeatedly told me that no one uses the front door and so I don’t really need a key for it… but I think they said they were going to look into it.

Anyway, there was a weird slamming sound when Mum was here one day waiting for the Verizon guy to show up. Or maybe it was when she was dropping off some of her good finds from the good will. But the next day, I was driving out to go to work and saw the front screen door was being propped open by the sad little book shelf/magazine rack. I wondered if we broke the door when the furniture guys delivered my couches, which would give my neighbors another reason to hate me besides all the noise we’ve been making painting and moving. But when I came home that night the door was back to normal.

I’ve since come home 2 other times to see the door propped open. I don’t know what’s happening with the front of the house but my curiosity has peaked. Tonight, I was doing a little work on the spare bedroom getting furniture and the catbox where I wanted it and saw my neighbor leave and then come back. Someone put all the trash out yesterday (trash doesn’t come until tomorrow morning, but whatever) and this included my many, many broken down cardboard boxes. Well there’s another reason for them to hate me since they had to lug all my cardboard out to the street. I had just changed the catbox and needed to bring this last bag of trash out but waited a while for the neighbor to get into his apartment and stay there. When I went downstairs to bring out the trash, the front door was open and the screen door was not propped by the bookshelf but by the little do-dad mechanism that people use to keep screen doors open. I only heard silence on the other side of the 2 apartment doors and went ahead and threw out my trash. About 10 minutes later, I came back with more items to throw out and the doors was shut. So strange because my door into the stairwell was open. It’s amazing I didn’t hear the door close or anyone come out of their apartments.

I’m starting to think this place is haunted. Of course I do – I think every place is haunted. But that was seriously crazy. Okay, time to call it a night. Later, Bloggos.

I’m writing to you from my brand new pad. It’s true, it’s true: I’ve moved out of my parents’ house and into my very own apartment. This is the first time I’ve ever lived somewhere by myself. With no roommate or boyfriend, I’ve been making all decisions on my own and I have to say… it’s a strange feeling. I can express my own interior designer within (who has very good taste btw) but with no one to consult with… it’s a little overwhelming for someone like me. I’m really used to asking someone “What do you think?” and just doing whatever they want (within reason, of course). And now with so many options, I have been exploring them all via the internet and many local shops. I feel free, I feel like a new girl and I currently feel a little drunk too.

It’s my first night here and I can’t sleep. I’ve actually had trouble sleeping ever since I got the news from my fantastic landlords that I was accepted for this apartment. So I’ve pretty much been exhausted for the last 2 weeks. I drink at least 3 diet mountain dews a day at work and sleep from about midnight to 5 every night. I stay up at night thinking about moving plans mostly. And as soon as my brain starts to wake up at 5, it immediately springs into action and starts thinking about all the things I have to do for this move. I also think about money as well as what will be best for my deteriorating back. I can’t help it and wish I wasn’t so much of a planner.

You see, I’m very organized and slightly insane about it. I coordinated a “gradual move” which involved various nights of helpers. I organized in my mind which things should be packed, purchased, moved and unpacked in the appropriate order that made the most sense. I also took account of “boy help” to prepare for extra heavy belongings to be ready for said boy help. My plans were executed almost flawlessly. I say “almost” because there were certain “wild card” situations that thankfully worked out. In the end, my incessant planning has paid off and it has all worked out wonderfully. Pretty much all my belongings are here, I utilized all my helpers to the fullest and my back seems to be intact. However, my right hip and right leg are throbbing pretty good right now. Hopefully, the beer can take care of that.

A little bit about my new “domicile” (as mum likes to say). It’s unbelievably adorable. It’s the top floor of a really cute old, blue victorian in the north part of “abtown.” I viewed many, many apartments in Weytown and things were just never right. I walked into this place and immediately began hoping that the landlords accepted me as a tenant. The landlords are really nice and actually used to live here for many years before they bought their house in Weytown. They are also Weytown high school graduates and now townies. I like to think that my Weytown status helped me score this super groovy pad. They’ve allowed me to paint the walls to whatever I want. I had some helpers last Sunday paint the living room and my bedroom. It came out fantastic! Downstairs are two units: a 1BR and a studio. My unit is a 2BR. It’s very quiet here, however the commuter rail is close by and I hear that go by every once in a while. I’m also next door to a Baptist Church and look forward to hearing those bells ring tomorrow morning! Across from the church is a pizza place so that’s good – I won’t starve. I’m off of a major route of the south shore and it houses many establishments and gives a  busy little town center feeling (even though it’s not the center of town). I like being walking distance to lots of places… makes me feel like I’m back in the city.

Dad left a Bud Light in my fridge along with 2 blueberry beers of mine that have been hanging out at their house since who knows when. I’ve just drank the 2 blueberry beers in a celebratory 30 minutes. And now the Bud Light. It’s really not so much a “celebration for one,” but more an effort to get myself tired enough to sleep. Tomorrow I food shop and then move the cat children. I’m very concerned for my little girl cat. She’s truly emotionally challenged and I expect lots of howling mewing tomorrow. I just hope there are no bathroom related accidents as a result of her trauma. I also have a fair amount of furniture building to do. I have 3 IKEA pieces that need to be put together this week. However, I enjoy putting together furniture… it’s just getting the time to do it.

I was thinking today as I drove one of my bureaus over to my apartment how proud I am of myself. 2 1/2 years ago, I was newly single, depressed, heavily in debt, in incredible back pain and moving in with my parents because I didn’t have many options. I hated myself, I became a borderline alcoholic and every day was just harder than it ever had been in the history of me. But after many months of wallowing in this misery (a necessary step to get it out of one’s system), I made a plan of how to improve my life and each goal is being executed as planned. As a result, my self confidence is soaring. I’m having so many good times these days and just enjoying it all. Anything is possible if you put your mind to it and try real hard. Okay, time to try to sleep again before I get too drunkin’ stoic on the ol’ bloggo.

July 2nd was my last day at double J and the following week was vacation. I saw 2 sets of fireworks, a Native American Pow Wow and discovered a secret new (free) beach on the cape where the water really doesn’t get past your knees (probably won’t visit again). And that was just the beginning of the week. I then caught up with former co-workers at the Easy place’s cafeteria. It’s been quite some time since I’ve been inside that building. Weird doesn’t even describe it. Furthermore, I haven’t driven down the famed route 9 right down the “Center of the Universe” in quite sometime either. Not since I moved to Weytown – so that’s 2 1/2 years at least! I saw the Tom Cruise movie by myself that afternoon and then dinner at the Chat-a-tat-tat with Xtina and HEKD. It was a full out memory lane trip of my old haunts of 3 years ago. Vacation ended with looking at a bungalow to rent (it was awful) and a B.B. King concert with AMR. He still has a good voice, but his memory of music lyrics is not so good.

The memory lane trip was a kind of nice goodbye. Now that I’ve been hired a P-Lite and am about to complete my first 3 weeks, it’s pretty definite that I’m not leaving the south shore anytime soon. Before scoring this position, I had been entertaining the thought of moving back up to the Watch City where I once lived and visited the Center of the Universe often. Now I know that’s not happening, so goodbye west-of-Boston option. I’ll try to visit when I can. The South Shore isn’t so bad, though. I have friends and family here so it’s a good place for a single girl like myself, just in case I need help with something or perhaps in the mood for company.

P-Lite, so far, has been pretty awesome. They’ve recently combined buildings so everyone is in the newer, nicer building. To commemorate this merge, there was a re-dedication of the building on my 4th day. There was a DJ playing fun music, then a nice speech from the president and then a priest came to the podium to bless the building and everyone in it. Then the real fun began. A man dressed as the wicked witch from wizard of oz began riding around on his bike to the “witch music” from the Wizard of Oz. Glinda was running around too. It was crazy. Then the wizard himself came down the stairs and announced that we were to get into teams and do a set of tasks. Dorothy, the scarecrow, the lion and the tin man were stationed around the building (as well as many delicious food stations) to give us our tasks. They were like team building type games at each station. I didn’t realize, but we were being timed and scored at each task. My team came in last place, but we each received a $25 P-Lite gift certificate for being the “team with the most potential.” :) There were yellow candles lining the atrium area (called the “yellow WICK road”) and we were told to pick up pieces of the road with us to help clean. Every employee also received an item from the new Fall collection so I made out pretty good!

It’s encouraged to burn candles at your desk and to adorn your desk with ridiculous amounts of P-Lite product so I can’t wait to begin collecting! Customer Service conducts auctions here weekly on old product and the $ goes to a good cause so I’ll keep my eye on that. I’ll also be having a P-Lite party this fall and hope to gain some delightful hostess gifts from doing that as well. My guests will have to buy a certain amount in order for me to get the hostess gifts, so bring your checkbooks, ladies! (no pressure) So far, I’m very much enjoying the “start up” nature of my job. I choose imagery myself and write copy myself so I’m doing more creative/merchandising work than I have in the past, in addition to my fun techie projects. Since they just launched their web site last year, there’s LOTS to do. But everyone is so excited about the new technology and really supportive of everything my boss and I are trying to achieve. It’s really a great environment, the people are so nice and very friendly. People stop by my office (I love having an office, btw) all the time just to introduce themselves. So far, so good, P-Lite!  Holla!

Mum has abandoned Dad and I for a few days while she hangs on the Cape and thus we are left to fend for ourselves in both the food and conversation categories. I declared yesterday morning before she left that Dad should make us hamburgers on the grill and I’ll heat up some beans (brown ones) because he likes that dinner. When he was a newly divorced bachelor, this was his dinner of choice and I think eating this meal will forever remind him of those couple of years of freedom. However, he was not all that free because he lived with his mother for part of that time and disappointed her with all his all night partying. She even called him an “alley cat” with such disdain that he still talks about the stinging experience today. But don’t be fooled, he really likes it that his mother called him an alley cat. But I digress…

Like a good assistant, Mum took out two hamburgers from the freezer and set them in the fridge so they were defrosted for the grill master to work his magic. We had our brown beans and beef dinner and got to talking about Dad’s parents and their history. Very, very interesting stuff. I had heard a story here and there, but this was an opportunity where my question-asking was on open-fire and I got some real hard-knocks, American history from Dad. And you, fair Bloggy, get to read some of it right here on this ol’ Bloggo.

Dad’s Mother’s Mother:
Her name was Ellen and she was born in England. When she was a little girl, her parents decided they couldn’t afford to raise her and sent her to Ireland to live with her Aunt. Then when she was 14, her Aunt sent her to America to go get a job. So she traveled at the bottom of a horrid ship that was infested with rats and other immigrants until she arrived in Boston. Upon arrival, a tag was put around her neck and she was shipped off to Chestnut Hill to work in the kitchen of some rich family. Somehow, she met her husband whose last name was Roache. He was originally from Newfoundland and came to Boston for work and found her. She had one child (my dad’s mother, Gladys) before Mr. Roache died young. I don’t recall why he died so young. Fortunately, there was a widowed man who lived in the neighborhood with a thick Irish brogue and a son. The community decided to put these two together so it was sort of an arranged marriage. But he bought her a nice house to live in and they lived happily together. Dad called his step grandfather “Pa Denny” and loved him. Pa Denny used to take Dad (a little boy) to the pubs and tell people he was his son. I guess it was to feel young. Dad remembers this with a big smile. He loved Pa Denny even though he wasn’t his biological grandfather. Pa Denny was related to the president of Jordan Marsh so when the depression hit and Gladys needed a job, her step father was able to get her a coveted spot at Jordan Marsh. Pa Denny rescued first Ellen and then Gladys. :) Dad knows a lot about Ellen because she lived with him when he was young. His childhood house in South Boston was crowded and he slept on the couch.

Dad’s Father’s Father:
Dad comes from 2 generations of Boston police officers. He, of course, broke the chain and became a printer. :) Officer Kelly does have a nice ring to it, don’t you think? His grandfather was a policeman in the early part of the century and fathered 7 children (my dad’s dad was the oldest). Dad didn’t tell me much of his Father’s mother, since he never met her as she died at a young age. At the time of her death, dad’s dad was a young college student in NYC. Upon hearing of her death, my dad’s dad dropped out of school and moved back to Boston to help out at home. I asked what was wrong with dad’s grandfather that he couldn’t effectively be a single parent and dad said very matter-of-factly, “Well, he was a drunk.” And as a result, my dad’s dad never touched alcohol and was a responsible hard-working man who took care of his 6 sibling. My dad’s grandfather sounds like a free spirit. He would go fishing and on his way back, he’d give away most of his fish to the neighbors before coming home with nearly nothing. And as mentioned, he was also a fan of the drink. When all the policemen went on strike in 1919, he was fired straightaway and got a new job as a bell hop at a fancy hotel. This allowed for his playboy behavior of meeting women at the hotels and bringing them home with him. Yes, this plural amount of women would be brought home to the place that housed his 7 children. Dad’s dad ended up kicking out his father to go live with the Auntie who lived in Randolph. Dad says this Auntie was a strong woman and could keep her playboy brother in check.

Dad’s Father:
His name was Joseph, of which is dad’s middle name. While taking care of his 6 siblings, he met Gladys and eventually married her. He had been driving coal for the coal company to try and support the family but needed a better job. Dad was born in 1935 and a couple of years later, he joined the police force in Charlestown. This was the location of many sea men on the various ships in the harbor and they also liked the drink. When the bars got out at night, Joseph would be on call to break up fights and riots over nothing. He broke his arm twice during this period and a very young dad would often be carted out to the hospital in the night with his mum to see how beaten Joseph was. He also got a second job working with the pipes on the ships. When the war broke out in 1941, he would often be taken off the police force and sleep on the ships for up to 2 weeks to get a badly wounded ship back up and running asap. Dad remembers his dad pointing at the giant smoke stack of a war ship and saying that he was at the very top of it doing some fixing. Unfortunately, the asbestos that he applied to the pipes eventually gave him cancer and he died when dad was a young man. Dad’s dad wasn’t particularly proud of the way my dad turned out since he obviously took after his party fun grandfather rather than his responsible father. But one thing I reminded dad of his how much of hard worker he is and that is clearly an influence from his dad. When he died, his last words to dad was “Don’t let your mother move in with any of you kids. Take care of your mother.” Apparently, it was a hardship on him to have his mother-in-law live with them. And when dad was divorced, he did live with his mum and looked after her but it was short-lived. My dad’s sister (named Ellen after their grandmother) offered to have their mother live with her and away she went. So he wasn’t able fulfill his dad’s last wishes and feels guilty about it. I have Gladys’s bedroom set in the basement (covered in mold and damaged from the flood) and will hold on to it as long as I can since I didn’t get to meet Joseph or Gladys.

By now, many in the northeast have heard of the flood that overtook many a backyard and basement. It rained a heavy rain the weekend before St. Patty’s and didn’t stop for about 3 days. This resulted in many rivers overflowing and underground springs and sewers backing up into people’s basements. Cars were ruined. Furnaces were rendered useless. Fire trucks were sent to houses everywhere to shut off electricity within the more endangered neighborhoods to safeguard against accidental electrocution. I had St. Patty’s plans for Sunday the 14th that would require me to take Monday off from work – however, those plans fell through because of the weather so I instead spent my Monday trying to help deal with the water in the basement.

Monday morning, I woke up to the vacuuming sounds in the basement and thought “uh oh…” I went downstairs and Dad told me that it’s starting to really come in down there. I put on my winter boots and checked it out. Sure enough, there were many large puddles forming. I rescued the catbox from one of the few dry spots of the basement and brought it upstairs to safety. Mum had found a cardboard box of mine that just happened to hold a bunch of electrical type things that had been in the water. I guess I don’t need those old cell phones and that 35mm camera anymore… but it still made me sad. So I ate some breakfast and did some things on the computer before taking on a shift of water vacuuming. Dad left to do some shopping and have a “meeting” at the local Elks lodge. From 9 a.m. to 11 a.m., the puddles had turned to a full pool of water probably about a couple inches deep in the worst parts of the basement! I couldn’t believe how fast it came in! I got to work on the system Mum had started. First, we vacuum up the water until the shop vac was full, then dump the water into smaller buckets. When all buckets (5) were full, you have to carry them out to the backyard to dump. Dad had kindly left me 5 full buckets to carry out to start and boy oh boy was it miserable. I have a bad back, ya know, but I can’t let the elderly do ALL the work.

Remember the Unbreakable movie with Bruce Willis and Samuel L. Jackson? Remember how his “superhero” look was to wear a giant rain poncho with a big hood and to be all angry walking through the rain? That’s who I reminded myself of. I wore Dad’s raincoat for maximum coverage so the hood was very large on my head. And I trudged out into the dark, rainy day with my buckets of water with such an angry, angry… uh… anger. Just so mad at that rain for invading my basement. Since moving back to my parents’ house, about 70% of my belongings are in that basement. I knew most of my things were in plastic bins, but who knows how strong they’ll hold? I mean, they are from Walmart after all. And I knew my old, wooden bureau that belonged to my grandmother is just wading in the water down there, but what was I to do? Natural disasters just make you feel powerless… and that’s just no good for anyone.

So I emptied about 15 buckets of water and guess what… no progress at all. In fact, I think the water ROSE in the hour I was down there. I came upstairs just as dad was returning from buying one of his suicide submarine lunches: an Italian with everything including hots, plus potato chips. I think he was drowning (har har) his sorrows in heart-stopping meats because his beloved Elks had flooded too and *gasp* closed it’s doors. (!) He split his sub with me and we watched the news together while the sirens blared through the neighborhoods. One of dad’s favorite past times is laughing at others’ misfortunes so this cheered him up after the loss of his Elks. He enjoyed seeing the SUV on the news that was half underwater and the people being rescued from their homes. I told him that vacuuming and carrying buckets of water to the backyard was fruitless as the water is coming in too fast. He replied, “No shit” then went on to tell me how he visited many hardware stores and sump pumps are sold out. So I guess we do nothing. I went to my room and watched old episodes of Lost until Mum came home. At around 4:30, I put my boots on once again to check things out and the water was up to my ankles! At least I know my boots are fairly waterproof! We honestly didn’t know what to do, so we did nothing.

Then my brother came over just in time for dinner. He assessed the damage, ate dinner and then went home. I thought that was that, but he returned at around 10ish with a guy who’s been working with him (Mark/”Smokey”/”Catfish” – I have yet to meet this guy, but he has many names). I was in bed and had no idea they were even there. They drilled a big hole in the cement floor of the basement for a pump he found somewhere for us. Mum was instructed to make holes in a bucket and then put the pump inside. The hole they drilled in the cement was just big enough for the bucket. Water from under the house traveled into the bucket via these holes and then was sucked into the pump, which directed the water through a hose and out the window (into the neighbor’s backyard – sorry, guys). My brother did real good for us that night. By morning, the water was pretty much gone. Yay!

As for damages, the basement is a little stinkier than usual. My stuff is overall pretty good. The Walmart bins held up well. I had some framed photos in a trash bag and the bottom 5 or 6 inches got wet. They’ve been drying out in the dining room and most of it is salvageable. A lot of that stuff I’ve had forever and can be thrown out by now anyway. The big sadness is the mirror that goes with my dresser. I’m so dumb! I forgot that it was stuck back there upside down so the fancy wooden design at the top got completely submerged in water. I touched it and pieces of the design just crumbled off. I’m very sad about this… probably not sad enough to take off all the finish, sand everything down and refinish myself. (This is a very big two-bureau set.) But I do feel like I should do something. Maybe I can pay to have the finish removed and then all I’ll just have to do the refinishing. Maybe someone has some suggestions for me? You’ll see it in the pics below. I forgot to take pictures when the water was up to my ankles, so you’re just seeing the beginnings of the flooding… hopefully, we have a dry remainder of Spring!

This has pretty much been me for all of 2010 so far:

There’s a ghost at Hekd’s House.

First, I should tell you that I’m crazy obsessed with watching Lost. Even at this moment, I’m fighting the urge to not write this blog entry and instead dive right into some Lost episodes. Once I heard that the current season was going to be its last, I decided it was time to be part of the club. Before now, I refused to watch it because of all the unanswered questions the series poses. I would listen to my former roommate discuss the episodes with others and wonder why they put themselves through this madness of having so many more questions than answers. I wouldn’t be made a fool of. So I decided that once the series was ending, I’ll watch them all at once. Fortunately, Netflix offers them for free when I watch on my lappy.

And now I’m a fool for Lost.

I watch it just about every day and I’m up to season 3. To be specific, I have 4 episodes left of season 3. I love Sayid. I hate Juliet. I love Desmond’s accent. I’m bored with Jack. I love Ben. I’m disturbed by that Nikki/Paolo episode. I’m enthralled with Jin and Sun’s back story. It’s all a wonderful soap opera of characters. And they throw me just enough bones that I’m not overly irritated at the lack of knowing what the f is going on. But then again, I don’t have to wait very long to find out the resolution of each cliffhanger.

Last Saturday morning, I watched an episode. At the end of every episode, the credits come up and then the production company “bad robot” runs their graphic of a robot and some kid voices yell “BAD ROBOT!” and then the episode is officially ended. I’m at a place now that I’m so sick of hearing this every day of my life. So I try to hurry up and click to the next episode before this bad robot part plays. But last Saturday morning, I simply closed the laptop before the bad robot part played and packed it away in a bag. Saturday evening a bunch of us got together at Salem Beer Works for BM’s birthday, then I went to Dan and Hekd’s house for the night since it’s a lot closer than Weytown. My laptop spent all day and night unplugged and in my duffel bag. The plan was that I would sleep in the basement room on the comfortable futon. But for some reason, I was too scared. And when Hekd and Dan went up to bed, I felt uneasy being by myself. But I decided to sleep on the couch in the living room even though it’s not very comfortable. I put the TV on the sleep mode so it would shut off in 30 min. I do this at home nightly and 99% of the time I fall asleep before 30 min. At Hekd’s house, I was awake when it shut off so I put it on another 30 min. Once again, I was awake when it shut off so I just let it stay off and tried to sleep. I drifted in and out of a not-so-restful sleep and then around 4 in the morning, there was suddenly the familiar kid-shouting from the corner of the room, “BAD ROBOT!”

I was so scared, I buried my face into the couch and thought, “I knew it. I knew there was something off about tonight and there is totally a spirit in this house that’s messing with me.” At this point, my laptop had been unplugged for about 17 hours. I didn’t think my lappy’s battery could last that long. And even if it did last that long, Netflix times out when you’re not watching anything for a while. Dan went to breakfast with the boys the next day and relayed the story. Dan told me that Keith said it was probably a glitch. I think not. So I’ve decided it’s fact.

There’s a ghost at Hekd’s house.

My streak of failed relationships is successfully intact. And it’s okay. As a professional girlfriend, I rarely have a relationship that lasts less than a year, but the latest lasted just under 6 months. I don’t know if it’s the short duration of the relationship or the fact that it’s my umteenth boyfriend I’ve had to say Sayonara to (perhaps a bit of both), but I am surprisingly okay with everything. I cried for a week after we broke up and was generally sad for a week after that. I talked things out with a few close friends and then thoughts of him just fizzled away… just like magic. Now that I think of it, a substantial portion of what makes things okay probably has something to do with the low caliber of manhood this particular ex-boyfriend displayed. Breaking up was a no-brainer. But I won’t go into name-calling on this one. We’ll just say he wasn’t for me and I wish him well. I think 6 months is about the time when you get to know someone for who they really are and there’s no more of that “best foot forward” nonsense or even that “rose-colored glasses” nonsense from the beginning months. So you date and get to know each other and sometimes it’s not a fit and you break up before “real” feelings are invested. Not a terribly uncommon story. I think of him fondly as someone who sort of brought me back to life in the romance realm and I’m glad to have known him at this time in my life. And all this being okay is really a shocker for me (and I’m not talking about the hand gesture). I’m usually a lot more emotionally effected by these types of things. Perhaps we should throw in a little “growing up” in the mix too. Whatever the reason may be, it’s obvious that the way my head works has changed significantly over the past couple of years. And for right now, I think I’ve come to terms with not having a boyfriend for a while – there are other things in life I can focus on… and other things I absolutely NEED to focus on to make me happier in this life – that does not involve dudes. So stay tuned for more major personal growth in 2010. Maybe I’ll fall in love in 2011. It would be nice to do that one more time before the end of the world the following year.

Work has been kickin’ my butt the past couple of weeks and blogging hasn’t been top of mind. Apologies. Thanksgiving weekend is the time of year when we make more money than any other week of the year. And because it’s so important, the powers-that-be conduct many meetings discussing promotions and marketing messaging… and change the promotions and marketing messaging over and over and over again… which creates lots of work. But whatever. I’m pretty much AWESOME and get it all done and make it happen so it’s all good.

Work has also moved my desk temporarily. I used to have a really private back corner desk that was shared with my cube-mate who is currently out on short-term disability. But they’ve decided to remove our cubes, build a wall and make that back corner into a corner office. My new cubicle location is much more public and people keep talking to me a lot more. So with the increase in holiday work in addition to the influx of people talking to me… I stay late a lot and this needs to stop. I often think of an old co-worker who used to put a “go away” sign on his cube when he needed to get stuff done. I haven’t ruled it out.

In October, my boss emailed the e-comm team about PTO (Paid Time Off) that we needed to take before the end of the year or we’ll lose it. Guess who the winner was who rarely takes time off and has the most hours on her record? Oh yes, yours truly went ahead and took some days in November and December. But with every day off I take, there seems to be some people who get upset over it… which is probably why I don’t take time off very often! Oh well. I took off 11/13 and 11/16 and it was kind of nuts leading up to it and then the week when I returned, I worked so late every night to catchup and get ready for the holiday it hardly seemed worth it. But on the day of the 16th, I was able to go to Mum’s fancy gym with her using her annual free guest pass… and subsequently contract a UTI after sitting in the jacuzzi. AWESOME. That was the last time I went to the gym in November.

When gearing up for Thanksgiving week, I was telling Mum how I just feel like I’m always rushing. Rushing to get to places (always arriving late), rushing to do laundry before bed, rushing to get stuff done at work before a certain time, rushing to get to my BF’s apt. before he turns into a pumpkin at 10… I’ve just been behind on everything (especially work-related stuff) and still fitting in more and more into my schedule. So I took off Monday through Wednesday after Thanksgiving and it has done a WORLD of good. Sure, I’m still getting phone calls from work, but I’ve been able to catch up on so many things: laundry, unread emails from 2 weeks ago, learning how to use my new Droid phone (which is awesome), painted my nails and today I may actually go to the gym.

The day before Thanksgiving was a half day for the company… but this always excludes the e-comm team… especially me… especially when I’m taking off the Mon thru Wed after the holiday. So I was rushing, rushing, rushing and finally got out of there. And the plan was to go home and quickly make some lemon meringue pies and then go to NF’s place. I ran around the house looking for pie shells when Mum had put them, and all ingredients I needed, in a plastic bag on the table for me to make things easier. I don’t know why I didn’t see it. This is what happens when I’m rushing. So I separated out the 4 egg yolks and the whites into two bowls and began making the lemon filling, double the recipe. And without even thinking about what I was doing, I dumped in the egg whites into the mixture when I was supposed to put in the yolks. I was so mad. Then NF called at that moment and said he was crazy busy getting ready for his holiday and weekend away and could he just see me on Friday. Now I was mad AND disappointed. I dumped everything down the sink and started all over. Thankfully, we had two more boxes of lemon pie filling hanging around (it’s my favorite so mum always has it on hand). My sister and niece came over that night for a sleepover to “help” with Thanksgiving the next morning. Ever hear about how too many cooks spoil the broth? Yeah, things were a little chaotic on Thanksgiving, but the dinner was fantastic and the lemon meringue pie was nothing short of amazing. :)

Monday morning, I spent about 4 hours perusing Cyber Monday deals and phoning the companies with additional codes found online. I wish I could say that most of that shopping were for holiday gifts, but buying for me is just so much easier than buying gifts for others! However, there were some gifts purchased too. There will be many boxes delivered to this house over the coming weeks. I think I’ll at least take off Cyber Monday every year just to do this. So many great deals online. Then Mum and I went shopping at the local Goodwill on Tuesday. I didn’t purchase anything, but boy do I love the people watching. And when I get a place someday, I’m totally doing my furniture shopping there. They had some really cool antique-y furniture that I was falling in love with left and right. I love shopping.

Last night, I was able to see my friend, Katie Z., for our own game of catchup since the last time we visited was JULY. Holy moly. You would never know we live in the same town! We drank almost two whole bottles of red wine in a 5 hours period. :) Go us! Last Saturday, I was able to meet my friend, Xtina, for dinner after not seeing her for many weeks and then we hit up the Bykfam birthday bash where good times were had. I feel like this past week has been a good balance of friend time, family time and catching up on chores/errands time. NF went to Albany, NY and then Portland, ME this past weekend to follow his favorite live band, Phish. He had wanted me to go with him and his friend, but I’m glad I stayed back and saw some friends and got some R&R. Going back to work tomorrow is going to be way harsh. Waayyy harsh. I had originally wanted to fit in a visit with HEKD on Friday, but the reality is just that I’m going to be working late Thursday and Friday. And if I don’t work late, I’m going to start the holiday month behind, I’ll be back to square one and you Bloggos won’t hear from me for like a month. :) And no one wants that!