I've Seen the Enemy, and Its Name is Toro

I was off yesterday. I spent 4 of those free hours at the VIMs house mowing his lawn. I wanted to surprise him and do something nice for him since he always takes care of me. Actually, only about 2.5 of those hours were spent mowing. The other 1.5 was spent trying to restart the mower after it ran out of gas.

During that hour and a half, I:

• pulled the starter cord 2427 times.
  
• pushed the primer button 6748 times.
  
• fretted that I was priming too much.
  
• fretted that I wasn't priming enough.
  
• panicked when I saw another gas can after I filled the mower (what if that wasn't gas that I just put in there???)
  
• checked the spark plug wire 764 times.
  
• became convinced that it wasn't gas I put in there, but some other gassy-smelling liquid which was creeping into and destroying the engine.
  
• pulled the mower back to the garage three times to clean it underneath.
  
• smoked 2 cigarettes
  
• tried to decide if I should leave a message on the VIMs cell phone, asking him to call me ASAP, or just leave a note for him to find when he got home.
  
• tried to figure out how much a new mower would cost and if I had that amount in my savings account.
  
• looked around for a siphon to get the not-gas out of the tank.
  
• pulled the starter cord a few more times.
  
• primed and fretted. Primed and fretted. Primed and fretted.
  
• cried because all I wanted to do was do something nice, and look what a mess I made of everying.
  
  I was a mess. Standing in the middle of the yard, covered in sweat and grass, bugs flying around me, crying because I was a grass cutting failure. Why oh why oh why??? Thank God he has trees around the edge of his yard - his neighbors would have thought I was nuts.
  
  Then, for no reason at all, I pulled the cord, and the mower started. Maybe it just needed to cool down. Maybe I just needed to cool down.
  
  

Enter the Grand Chamber

Someway, somehow I have inherited the office of the woman who just left the company. The new office has a window (glorious sunlight!) and is twice the size of my old one.

If you live in a city and work in a cube farm, try to wrap your head around this: I'm making less than $23,000 a year and have an office most likely larger than your boss's office. Or her boss's office. I now have so much room I can do cartwheels beside my desk.

I don't necessarily deserve the new digs, and I do feel sort of guilty about the way it all shook down.

I know what's going to happen. The company is going to change it's mind about not replacing the woman who left, will hire a replacement, and I'll be out on my ear. In the meantime, I'm trying to make it my absolute goal to enjoy every second in the great big vast office.

I feel like a little kid playing dress-up.

31 Things

1. People generally think I'm about 10 years younger than I actually am.
   
2. I cry everytime I read the email that goes around about the Special Olympic kids turning around to help a fallen runner, then link arms and cross the finish line together.
   
3. Since 2000 I've lost 60 lbs and kept it off.
   
4. I lost some of it with Weight Watchers and the rest with general common sense.
   
5. I'm trying to kick up the activity level in my life.
   
6. Yesterday I rode 13 miles on my bike.
   
7. Today my butt hurts.
   
8. Right now it's 4:15am, and I have a touch of insomnia.
   
9. I rarely drink anything other than water, coffee, and an occasional beer.
   
10. I have no pictures or decorations on my living room walls. I'm still waiting for the decorating muse to introduce herself to me.
    
11. I live in a densely pickup truck populated area.
    
12. I drive a small car. I really have no need to haul stuff around.
    
13. I prefer manual transmissions to automatics.
    
14. I was raised as an only child.
    
15. That's subtly different from saying "I have no brothers or sisters."
    
16. I used to eat cheeseburgers like they were going out of style. Seriously. I was known for my affinity for cheeseburgers. There's something to be proud of!
    
17. I was a huge fan of Sesame Street as a child. I've never really lost that love for Grover and Cookie Monster.
    
18. I prefer Warner Bros. cartoons to Disney.
    
19. Flintstones to Jetsons.
    
20. Electric Company to Zoom.
    
21. Red Sauce to White Sauce.
    
22. Lime to Lemon.
    
23. Short Stories to Great Big Novels.
    
24. Jewel Tones to Pastels.
    
25. Dogs to Cats.
    
26. Tulips to Roses.
    
27. Sweaters to Swimsuits.
    
28. I still have all of my Nancy Drew Books.
    
29. I love the smell of new shoes, fresh cut grass, and the inside of hotel ice machines.
    
30. There are plants popping up under my birdfeeder from the seeds the birds drop. I'm pretty sure they're weeds, but I can't bring myself to pull them out in case they turn out to be sunflowers.
    
31. I'm a big fan of carbohydrates.
    

Mental Fitness

One of the things I like about the VIM is that he's an active kind of guy. Generally I'm not an active kind of girl, but his enthusiasm for, oh say, hiking up the side of a mountain on a set of 1000 limestone steps is contagious. God knows I wouldn't do something like that on my own. It's not that I don't like things like that. It's more that I'm afraid I can't do it. Bike 5 miles? Nope. Can't do that. Hike? No, I don't have the stamina. Lift weights? Please. Look at me. Do I look like I can lift weights? But then he gently reminds me that I have never tried to lift weights. That I don't have to hike the whole way across the state in one day. That I can become more active on my own terms. How ironic is that? That I require someone to hold my hand as I become more active on my own terms?

Anyhow, my next goal is a 22 mile bike ride. He estimates it will take about 4 hours. The longest I have done so far is 8 miles and it was absolutely fine. No soreness, not even really tired after the ride (it's an amazingly flat trail). Part of my brain is looking forward to it. This part knows that not only can I do it, but that I'll enjoy it. The other part - the part that still sees itself as an extremely overweight inactive couch potato is full of wide-eyed fear. "Christ!" it's saying, "Who the hell do you think you are? You can't do this! You aren't meant to be active and fit. Face it!"

After the bike ride, the next goal is a 5K run (writing that at this point is actually laughable. I can't even IMAGINE running 5K.)

The real goal of course - the one that can only be achieved by working through these trivial 22 mile bike rides and 5K runs and mountain hikes - is to silence that part of the brain that isn't me anymore. There will be a point when it says, "You can't do that" and I'll stick out my tongue at it as I throw my hair up in a ponytail and lace up my shoes.

Progress

Sleep - caught up
Home Maintenance - performed
Birthday Gift - purchased

I'd say this has been a successful weekend so far.

On the Road Again

The VIM is out of town until Thursday. Today is the first day of VIMlessness. I already miss him like hell, but it's good that I have some free time in my near future. I desperately need to a) catch up on sleep, b) perform some home cleaning and maintenance, and c) get to the antique store/flea market to scope out the VIMs birthday gift.

This past week has been crazy, and I'm sure my neighbors think I'm some kind of kook who keeps very odd hours:

Left home 1pm Sunday

Back home 1am Monday
Left home 7:30am Monday
Back home 5:30pm Monday
Left home 6:30pm Monday

Back home 5:30pm Tuesday

Left home 7:30am Wednesday

Back home 5:30pm Thursday
Left home 6:30pm Thursday

Back home 6:30am Friday
Left home 7:30am Friday
Back home 2:00pm Friday
Left home 7:30pm Friday

Back home 1:00am Saturday

That's a lot of coming and going. Actually, just looking at that makes me very tired.

Relativity

Ever since I went back to work after vacation I've been buried. This is unfortunate, since I have several projects going on which all happen to be due this week. Not "well, I can't quite get it done this week, I'll give it to you as soon as I have it" due...I'm talking deadline due. Getting them all completed would have been tough enough. Add to that the "I've been gone for a week" pile of normal stuff to catch up on, AND meeting with the co-worker that's leaving to go over the new stuff I'll be doing, AND last minute stuff for a community service project I somehow got roped into, and honestly...I'm a mess. I understand that this isn't the norm. Somehow this is just the Paperwork Planets lining up and a bad moon rising. But I'm still a mess.

One of the projects I'm working on is a video for new employees. We already have one "shoot" in and had another one scheduled for yesterday. The videographer didn't show up. I called his business and he didn't answer. I waited in case he was stuck in traffic. I was steaming. Here I was, spending 15 perfectly good minutes trying to run down the damn videographer when I could have been doing something worthwhile! I finally got in touch with him. He had gotten the date wrong. He promised he'd be right in. I was polite, (I'm always polite. It's the curse of a Good Girl.) but I was pissed. Stuff like that always happens to me. It's ok if I want to waste my time, but I don't like other people doing it.

I thought I was having the mother of all bad days, what with all the inconveniences and deadlines and such. I found out later that "bad day" is a relative term. As it turns out, not long before I called the videographer to find out where he was, his wife left him, (I mean "this isn't working out" kind of left...not "I'm going to work, see you this afternoon" kind of left) then, as he was trying to sort everything out, I called and let him know he was late for our appointment.

Nice, huh?

Suddenly my piles of paperwork don't look so bad.

Weekend by Numbers

 

Total Hours in Weekend: 48
Total Hours that Appeared to Be in Weekend: 12
Pre-Wedding Events Attended: 1
Hours Spent Preparing for Said Event (you know...setting up tables and such):3
Kick-Ass Gifts Bought for Said Event: 1 (a rosebush)
Excursions:1
People I Didn't Know Who Went Along for the Ride: 1
Minutes of Conversation in Vehicle During 2 hr Ride to Event: ~ 10 minutes
Minutes of Conversation in Vehicle During Ride Home: 0
Friends of VIM, Whom He Hasn't Seen in 15 Years, Met:1
Hours of Sleep Between Getting Home from Said Event and Getting Back Up for Work: 4 (I can just feel a grumpy day in my near future.)

This Message Will Self-Destruct in 5...4...3...

I'm certainly not going to tell you that there aren't benefits to having a private relationship (I prefer "private" to "secret"..."secret relationship" sounds so unseemly), but honestly, it's not as exciting as it seems.

One of the strange things is that some friends know and some friends don't. Generally, the friends who know don't know the friends who don't know (Holy Cats, I sound like Donald Rumsfeld). Today, VIM and I are going on a little excursion with some other people. Some of those people know, and some don't. Quite frankly, I'm not in the the mood to be around people who don't know. I haven't seen the VIM on a personal level for days. There are so many things going on right now in both of our lives that all I want to do is be with him. Be myself. Be loving. Make funny jokes. Get refueled. For the past week, and I KNOW for the upcoming week and the week after that, I will be spending more time pretending that there is no private relationship than I will spending private time together. I hate that.

Wednesday night I took a spin on my new (used) bike after work. The bike path is an abandoned rail bed that's been converted to a path for walking, biking, horseback riding, etc. It's a beauty - winding through a little forest, beside a lazy river.
It was glorious.

I pedalled slowly for a while, taking it all in. Then I'd speed it up and I'd zip along almost to the point of feeling like I was out of control and on the verge of a tumble. (I haven't ridden a bike in close to 20 years, so it doesn't take much to make me feel out of control.)

I felt like a kid again.

This morning I woke up and my body is covered in mosquito bites. I'm not sure why it took an entire day for them to materialize, but let me assure you, they've staged quite an entrance. Apparently the winding bike path through the woods beside the river is a hotbed of mosquito activity. Who would have guessed?

I'm trying to remember mosquito bite rememdies...do you dab toothpaste on the bites? Maybe some rubbing alcohol? I vaguely remember Calamine lotion from Girl Scout Camp. Or was that just for poison ivy?

The bumps are everywhere. They're quite itchy. Distracting. But I have to admit - everytime I scratch, I feel like a kid again, and it's almost all worth it.

Nah NAH Nah Nah

I've got the Bridesmaid's Blues.
The dress has officially been fitted. The shoes have been purchased. I've got the tanning bed bronzed skin. There's still a whole month before the wedding to help with the little things that pop up. There should be no pressure. But there's something that's not quiiiiiiiiite right. Something I just can't quite put my finger on. What could it be?

Oh, right, right. I remember. It's the Matron of Freakin' Honor. She's driving me up a wall. She is absolutely ruining any small amount of fun I, as a 36 year old never-been-married, bridesmaid YET again, can possibly have. The shower is coming up. For the past 2 months I have asked what I can do to help. I've offered to make food, buy food, give money, move tables, ANYTHING. All I get is, "ok, well, I've already done this and I'm doing that and I've spent SO much money and I've spent SO much time and I'm SO stressed out...woe is me...poor poor me."

"Yes, I understand, Matron of Freakin' Honor, so what can I do to help you? Anything at all."

"Yeah, we'll have to get together and talk about what we're going to do."

At first I thought she was just busy and wasn't sure what she needed. But I have repeated this same conversation over and over and over. Seriously. Like, 8 times. The worst part is listening to her bitch about how she's doing everything and no one else is bothering to help. It would be much easier for me to help if I KNEW WHAT THE HELL SHE NEEDED. She's guarding the plans like it's some kind of military maneuver. The shower is days away and I don't even know what time it's being held.

The Story of the Shit and the Fan

There is absolutely no way that the next few months aren't going to be completely ugly and hellish.

One of the managers in my department has put in a two week notice, creating a great big gaping managerial sinkhole in her wake, and already it's starting. She's there until the first part of July, and already people are jockeying for position - Who's going to get her office? Who's going to get her furniture? Who's going to get her job? If for some reason they don't replace her position as-is and we just spread out the work, who will get more money? It's crazy. It's ugly. And no matter what happens, there will be bitter bitter ugly bitter feelings. I guarantee it.

I'm lucky in that I know nothing about her specialty, so I know that I'm not getting the job (see? I'm buying into this too!!! There IS no official "job" yet). But I seriously can't handle the stress and backbiting and the oh-so casual and nonchalant "I don't care what happens" lies.

The Fan has officially recogized the Shit. The Shit isn't quite organized enough yet to be heading in a particular direction, but the Fan is patient and will wait.

Vacation by Numbers

Concerts seen - 2
Eggplants planted - 3
Naps taken - 2
Mornings slept in past 9am - 2
Mornings up early with VIM so I could rub it in that he had to go to work and I didn't - 2
Rainy Days - 1
Bills Paid - 0
Pages into Anna Karenina - 196 (most read on the rainy day)
Times refilled bird feeder - gazillion
Hours of Television watched - 2 or 3
Hours of Halo played - uh, about 15 or so (bad bad BAD!)
Meat products consumed - 5 *sigh*
New (used) bicycles bought - 1
Minutes spent riding new used bike - 45
Sore body parts from said bike - 1 (I have Saddle Ass)

The End is Here

It's 5.26pm and I'm still in my pajamas. The last day of vacation has been quite the success, even if I do say so myself. But now it's time to fold up the fluffy comforter and put the pillows back on the bed where they belong and go get in the shower. Yes, it's time to finally get dressed and head out for some fellowship with the VIM.

What's on the agenda? Glad you asked. I'm almost positive it's going to involve salad and about 5 hours of Halo. No doubt we'll wake up tomorrow and compare the dreams we always have after a Halo marathon. His dreams usually involve him trying to figure something out. Mine are usually about me running into strange rooms and spraying everything in site with an assault rifle.

I can't decide if that's funny or not.

Peace and Noise

 

I tend to be closed-minded when it comes to things outside my comfort zone. It comes from fear. Fear that I won't get it. I didn't watch the X-Files for the first few seasons, even though it looked interesting, because I wasn't sure I'd get it. I never sought out Bob Dylan or the Sex Pistols or watched Apocalypse Now because I was born too late to truely appreciate them. I was born in the very late 60s. When the end came in Vietnam my main concern was what time Sesame Street came on. Sex Pistols? The Clash? At 9 years old? No thanks, I'll take the Bee Gees.

That said, I was a little intimidated to go see Patti Smith. From what little I knew, this woman is intense, literate, and outspoken. This is NOT "C is for Cookie." I was totally pleasantly surprised. The crowd was polite and eclectic (great for people watching!), and Patti Smith was excellent. Maybe I still don't fully appreciate the music and the feeling behind it, but it's nice to know that it's there within my reach when I decide I want to get to know it better.

Brand Spankin' New

Wow. A brand new blog. The possibilities are endless.
Today's free time, however, is not endless. As a matter of fact, it will end in 8 minutes - the last possible moment that I can get in the shower and still meet VIM (Very Important Male) on time. He's very punctual, and I'm very not. Since he's taking me on a mini-excursion the least I can do is not piss him off before I get there.