No Respect!

Last spring I went to work for a property management company as a Leasing Consultant/Activities Director. The pay was much better than I received at the gym, it wasn't a terribly difficult job, I didn't work evenings or weekends and I liked my boss. My biggest goal was to hit that six-month mark just in case I got laid off (unemployment benefits you know).

I passed that mark in November and everything seemed to be moving along just fine and although me and my co-workers were hearing the rumblings of the property being sold, no one at home office would give us any firm details.

Of course the property sold. Of course it did.

Our new management company seems okay. Well, it's a bit difficult to tell what they are like. Thus far they have made all sorts of promises about this and that...and then dropped the ball...on me.

My new BIG boss, who incidentally is just a few years older than my son, promised that we would all get paid on schedule. Even when my immediate boss asked him directly about a time card for Annie, he said he had it all under control and that he didn't want us to wait until after Christmas to get paid.

Of course, everyone got paid. Everyone except me.

Thanks BIG boss for making that happen and for apologizing for the mix up. Sure...

And thanks Payroll for being so nice about it. NOT!

I've spent the last week cleaning everything in site at the office. Why you ask? It's because the old company took my computer and the new company still hasn't provided one for me. When BIG boss arrived the day after the sale (note that he didn't even bother to call the day of the sale to tell us what was going on) he had a computer for my boss...but nothing for me.

He leaned on my desk and asked if I needed one...

I'm starting to get the feeling that he has no idea what I do.

So, here I am, back at square one. New company and no sure footing.

I wish I had asked the old company to lay me off so I would not lose unemployment if the new company cans me.

I wish the new company didn't think of me as insignificant.

I feel like Rodney Dangerfield...no respect!

Sometimes...

Sometimes I have a sneakin' hunch that I may be a pawn in a power struggle.

Me no likey.

Sometimes I just want to sleep past 5:10.

Is that too much to ask?

Sometimes I want to scream my head off and I've thought about doing it. We've got a barn you know. Sadly, the neighbors would probably hear and would think someones livestock was in pain. Yeah, not really the image I'm going for.

Sometimes I don't want to think about anyone but me. Nor do I want to clean up after them, or cook for them, or anything else for them.

Sometimes I want to throw my computer out the window so I don't have to read my email.

Sometimes I wish I was braver. If I was I would have asked that snotty little bank teller what she said to her co-worker that made her turn and look at me and grin.

Me hatey snotty bank teller.

Sometimes I just want to sit and cry and not have to explain the reasons why to anyone.

Sometimes I think the grass grows just to spite me.

Sometimes I think the only thing that will keep the gray diggers and slugs away from my flowers is a nuclear bomb.

Sometimes I want chocolate cake.

As I watch the days stretch out before me, I wonder if I'll break out of this box, flip the world the finger, and do what I want regardless of the consequences.

But, probably not.

Seriously?

So, you know all about FIL and his neon green cast. Okay, you may not have known that his cast was neon green, I picked out the color, he veto'd pink. Anywho, you know he's home and we are all adjusting to having him around. He's doing okay. We are all surviving. I called out an SOS to the family and got screwed, well sorta screwed, by the family, but that's just how they role.

Ahem.

You also know that my father, who is done with me, was in the hospital last week. What you do not know is the details of the juvenile txt conversation that GC and I had. This is something you really don't want to know. It's all bad attitude and cuss words anyway.

Groan.

On Sunday, that delicious day where we went to see SOLDIER MOMMY in her very own house (!), I woke up with the right side of my face swollen.

huh?

Yep, swollen and lookin' oh so hot. Actually, it was kinda scary looking. And I felt tired. So tired that I could have just sat down on the floor and cried myself to sleep. And that was at 7:00 in the morning. Not a good sign my friends.

Today the right side of my face was still swollen and it had these nifty little bumps all over it. Bumps on my eye lid. Bumps on my cheek. Hmm....allergic reaction on the right side only? Weird. Did I have a stroke? Bell's Palsy? Do I have a tumor? It was kinda numb too. Strange.

The doctor broke it to me gently: Shingles - from the Herpes and Mono family. No cure and because it's on your EYE it's serious. Scary serious. You gonna be blind, serious.

Now, I'm a good sport. I can take it and give it back. But talk of blindness is not one of my favorite topics. In fact, when it's talk about MY eye being BLIND, well, it's not something I want to discuss at all.

Dr. GoodNews sent me home with Famciclovir and a stern warning to go to the opthamologist. Stern.Warning.

Danger! Danger!

So, here I sit wondering if my right eye is going to pop out of my head and roll across the floor. I was an IDIOT and googled shingles on the face/eye area. Yeah, take a gander at them pictures. I dares ya.

Oh, one other warning that Dr. GoodNews gave me as I left her office, "You need to cut down on your stress."

Ha ha ha

That's a good one doc!

It Was a Smelly Smell

An old man at the laundry mat smelled strongly of liquor and cigarettes. I suppose that isn't terribly unusual, except it was 8:30 in the morning! Hello!!

We've removed Washerella's body and recycled it. The hoses from the wall have been leaning into the utility sink, still in mourning. They seem so...droopy. Last night, Girl needed to hand wash several items and asked what she should do with the hoses. I told her to let them hang to the floor, it won't hurt anything.

Wrong! Last night the entire room reeked of...something. The cat box? Nothing that toxic has ever emitted a scent like that from the litter box! The room now smells of bleach.

As you walk past the front flowerbed a wisp of fragrance will surround you. It is delightful and I stood in one spot for several moments last night, inhaling deeply and treasuring this small gift.

The aroma of growing tomatoes is beginning to waft through the air while the butterfly bush lures those dainty winged creatures with a subtle hint of sweetness.

Interesting how some scents wrap us in their warmth and beauty while others repulse us.

What did YOU smell today?

Big Mouth

I homeschool.

We have homeschooled since kindergarten many, many years ago.

In all honesty, I homeschooled kindergarten because, well, how bad can you screw up kindergarten? I mean really?

Because I've done this for so many years, I kinda snicker instead of getting angry when asked about, socialization.

Are you kidding me?

But I don't really feel like having that conversation just now.

The problem arouse yesterday, when someone asked me when I homeschool, since I now work four days per week. I laughed (I promise I did not snicker) and said that since Girl is 16 and can read she pretty much does her own work.

The teacher in front of me did not approve (insert massive eye-roll here). She pressed on.

"What about Algebra? Chemistry?"

I explained, as I always do, about the wonders of teaching DVD's and pulled out my favorite zinger:

"She takes outside classes. Courses such as, Genetics at the University and her college prep writing course. It's good for her to be in a classroom setting just to see how that all works". Gag.

Our take on education has always been that ultimately it was the children's responsibility. It's their job to learn. It's their job to study. It's their right to be educated.

"Why not private school?" she sighed.

"Because I don't see any difference between public and private. They all still have the pack mentality," I replied, weary of this conversation.

I had hoped that this last zinger would scare her off, that she'd back off and leave me alone.

It didn't.

I listened as she explained the value of group education, good curriculum, and so forth. I smiled and said, "Each family needs to decided what's best for them. For us, it was homeschooling."

She smiled. We're still friends...I think.

It doesn't matter. If I cared what other people thought about the way I raise my children, I wouldn't have homeschooled.

And that would have been a shame.

Mama Mia: Was this film Bad!

Last night Writer Girl and BFF Teri (click here to read what she thought) invited me to go see Mama Mia. The reviews of this flick told me it was horrible, but horrid in a kinda sweet way.

The story (which apparently is a WELL KNOWN Broadway play that first opened in London in 1999 and hasn’t stopped running since – who knew?) is about Sophia who longs to know who her father is. She’s been raised on a beautiful Greek island by her ex-singer and hippy mother. When Sophia finds Donna’s (Meryl Streep)diary she discovers that one of three men may be her father. Since she’s getting married, she sends each prospective father an invitation…from her mother. The men arrive, mayhem abounds with lots of singing and dancing.

One review said:

“Yet let's give "Mamma Mia!" credit: It's bad in so many ways, yet you can't say that these ladies lack spunk. Their what-the-hell moxie lights up the first girl-power musical to target girls over 50. (And just wait until Pierce Brosnan warbles "S.O.S." You'll laugh. And then you'll be charmed.)”

http://www.cnn.com/2008/SHOWBIZ/Movies/07/18/ew.review.mammamia/index.html

Frankly, I wasn’t charmed. I thought it was stupid. Stupid on so many fronts that I don’t think I have enough space on this blog to go into it. I admit, I laughed. There were a few scenes that made me laugh out loud, along with the other women sitting around us. The ABBA sound track reminded me that I use to like some of that music. I mean really, who didn’t dance around their bedroom to Dancing Queen?

However, I have been damaged beyond repair. Really.



Pierce Brosnan cannot in any way, shape, or form sing (and yes Teri I get it that he was soooo bad that they made that a part of his character).



Colin Firth (sweet, shy, wonderful Mr. Darcy!!!!) turns out to be gay.

I may never recover...



Watching Meryl Streep, Julie Waters and Christine Baranski act like complete idiots made me want to throw my popcorn at the screen., except I didn’t have any popcorn.

The best thing about last night was spending time with MY bff and laughing. That is always a good thing.