Almost Gone

I spent the majority of my workday cleaning out my desk: tossing weird notes to myself that no one else will get, dusting, wiping, and packing up my personal belongings. I actually didn't have too much, it never felt like I could bring much, coming into a fully decorated office and sitting at my dinky desk. Half the time various office supplies that couldn't go anywhere else were tossed on my "personal areas" so I never brought anything for them.
I did have a slew of my own office supplies. When I write, I usually use pencils because, being a left-hander, I always end up dragging my hand through the still-wet ink, making my illegible writing even more illegible. Pencils prevent that from happening, but always using pencils makes me picky. My favorite are Mirado Black Warriors, which are generally considered "art pencils" but I love anytime. They're more expensive than other kinds though so I buy my own, leaving the lame yellow #2s that were given to me by work untouched in my desk these last 2+ years. I also bought my own colored pencils and Sharpies because PR materials often need coloring and markering (whatever). So all my little supplies that came in handy many times, but that I bought myself because work deemed them frivolous, came home with me. I'm sure I'll put them to use again. Also, the computer and grammar books I refused to be reimbursed for because, you'll always wish you had them when you don't. Almost three years after the last time I'd opened the MS Access Bible I bought for an old job, Mr. Hobbitfeet used it to learn the program for his job.
At any rate, after a long hard day of cleaning, you can't tell I'd ever worked there, except the mouse is still left handed, and I might just let them try and fix that themselves, after all I had to work out how to make it left handed in the first place (actually I worked it out years ago, but that still doesn't prevent me from exacting my left handed revenge).
So after this weekend I've got two days of work and I am free.

Countdown to June Cleaver!

So the countdown to my final day is getting smaller by the minute. Today was the day I gave as my “official last day” when I resigned, but my boss begged bullied convinced me to stay longer. Her hope was the 24th, but my official last day (except for the once a week I’ve agreed to come in a train my replacement) is the 14th. This way I don’t have to sign Boy up for daycare at all.
I can’t even begin to tell you how excited I am to be at home, even more so because Girl will be at preschool. Is it crazy that I can’t wait to spend my day cleaning and organizing my house? Because I am really . . . I don’t know . . . pumped (for lack of a better word) about it. What does that say about a girl who was breast-fed feminism? Sorry to disappoint you mom, but I am really looking forward to being a housewife.
Now, don’t let my excitement fool you, I am not as un-self-aware as I am coming across right now; I know that I was crabby, stressed, and bitter the last time I was a stay-at-home mom, but Girl was a crazy-difficult baby, and I was so freaking lonely for adult companionship. So what is different now? Well for one thing, Girl is going to be at school from 8:30-3, so I can get stuff done. Also, I have decided to stave off boredom by volunteering for EVERYTHING.
Seriously, I joined the Joint PTA, volunteered to work at Boy’s school library, and to help out with Girl’s soccer. I pretty much signed every volunteer sheet that came my way. I am also considering volunteering at the town library. This is all part of my bid to figure out what it is I want to be when I grow up. Mr. H. says I need to get that sorted and as I am 30, I guess I agree.
I do know that whatever it is I'll want to do does not involve PR/Marketing. I am hoping to enjoy working in a library. I enjoy being in libraries at any rate; they feel so homey and cozy (even the big ones) and the smell is fantastic (if I were to brew up my own Amortentia it would smell like libraries, Mr. H., and rain). That’s why I am volunteering in them (since at the moment none of them are hiring). I think it would be nice to get my M.L.I.S but before I spend a lot of time and money, I need to see if it’s as good as I imagine it.
For now though I am savoring the idea that I only have 57 working hours left!

My Husband's New Promotion. . .

When I tell my cell phone to "Call Satan," it calls my husband at work. Should I be worried about what, exactly, he is doing in his new position?

Goodbye Katie!

Rose
Originally uploaded by True_Colours.

My favorite volunteer at the hospital died on Saturday. Today during lunch I went to her memorial service.
She was really very nice, always helping out, always saying something nice about everyone (expect maybe a couple people who weren't very nice to us). She was very sick but she kept trying to get us to give her jobs to do from her hospital bed. By the end, she was in a lot of pain, so maybe this is better for her. I will miss her though.

Make it stop!

Arrgh! Yesterday I was too tired to put away the karaoke machine and have spent the day living in a nightclub. gIRL watched Dora with the mike on. Treating me to her screaming "backpack" through an amp. Then Boy came home and told cheesy jokes ala a very bad stand-up. I blame my work, the dedication made me too tired to clean up last night, and I grabbed a nap while Girl napped and didn't put it away then. Tonight we're hiding it until the next time I'm moved to have a karaoke night.

Blech!

We just opened a new wound care center at my work and I have been doing lots of research to promote it. There is very little that is worse than trolling the internet for information when out of nowhere a picture (very gross I might add) of a chronic wound pops up on screen. People there is a reason I didn't become a doctor or a nurse and that is gross things make me vomit. Wound care website makers do not put pictures of chronic wounds on your website, unless there is a link that says "really stomache turning stuff!" Thanks

Old Bitter Ladies Suck!

Dear Pinch-faced, bitchy, Hallmark Lady,
I am very sorry that I interrupted your "very important" conversation with your friend about that lady in your church, but my three-year-old really had to go pee. I mean really, really had to pee. We were way past the potty dance phase and in the flat out hold your crotch and whimper phase.
You see she's three, and just learning how to use the potty, and doesn't always remember to tell adults when she needs to go. Would it have killed you to let her go in the back and pee? The answer is no it wouldn't!
I hope you are aware that there is a special place in hell for evil bitches that don't let kids use the bathroom. A place where you will be plagued by a hopelessly full bladder and a bunch of tight-ass bitches that won't let you pee. Too bad you didn't have a heart and let my daughter go.
I bet if I had been there in full soccer mom regalia, with my cardigans and pearls you would have let my daughter use your potty. Well the jokes on you old Biddie! I was there shopping for work. I had to buy all sorts of Hallmarky crap (like guest books, etc.) for the dedication ceremony at my work. I may not look like I have tons of money but I had the backing of a very healthy budget and you blew it all. I'll head on out to Tuscola and do my business there.
And in the future, I'll just pull my daughter's pants down and let her pee on your floor!
Sincerely,
The Mom who yelled at you as she ran her daughter over to Wal-Mart!

Dirty Little Secret

Well not all that dirty, or secret for that matter.



I drink water almost exclusively with the occasional harder drink mixed. For the most part it's just water though, and since that is the case, I have become a water connoisseur of sorts and am particular about the type of water I drink. Not that I turn my nose up at tap water or anything, but I am able to tell the difference between different waters, which inspires a lot of disbelief but it's true.



So anyhow, I hate the water that we have at work, out of the taps, water fountains, or in the cafeteria (which is really just cold tap water). It has a gritty metal taste, but I also can't go eight hours without drinking water, so I bring bottled water to work.



I hate having to bring bottled water to work because my work doesn't recycle and that adds up to a lot of plastic in the landfills. So I have taken to tossing the bottles in my personal drawer at work and taking them home with me for recycling when the drawer gets full, but then my personal drawer looks like this:



Once on one of my days off, my boss went looking for something and opened that drawer (and at the time there was about half as many bottles in there) and she told me she laughed for about an hour. Whatever, give me a full days worth of drinkable water and recycled plastic bottles and save your opinions for yourself.

What's the point?

This week my boss's boss basically told my boss that, although I do about a million times more work than my job description dictates, they aren't going to properly compensate me because I am already doing the work for what I currently get paid and he can't see why we should change that.

With the cost of childcare, travel, and keeping my wardrobe "professional" I am actually doing this job for free. I only keep this job because I've been promised advancement when my boss retires, which she claims will be before too long. Also, I had such a hard time getting a job again after my 2 year baby haitus. But I am not suffering the degredation and frustration that I experienced at COT EVER again. Mr. H. says he would be okay with me quitting, but do I really want to be a domestic goddess again, when it almost made me crazy the last time?

Should I:
A) Screw my boss and only do the work I was hired for despite the fact that she needs so much more?
B) Give the uber-boss an ultimatium and be prepared to walk away?
C) Soldier on hoping my boss wears out and retires or that I find a better job?

None of these choices seem like good decisions.

On Assignment...

This week I've been in Chicago at "Editor's Summer Camp" learning to be better at my job. And although I was my usual anti-social self, I feel I learned a lot. This is one of the pictures I took for my "Photo Assignment," which was summer in the city. You can see the rest on my Flickr account.

I think I learned the most about design and working with designers. I won't bore you with the details like I did Mr. Hobbitfeet (My word vomit wouldn't stop even after his eyes glazed over and his brain clearly had shut down-which is so bad when your driving).

My stupid work laptop couldn't pick up WiFi because I think it was invented before WiFi existed. So I couldn't blog, though I wanted to so bad.

The people were so weird (though considering I followed my strict rule of speaking only when spoken to, they probably thought I was weird). The most annoying were a group of girls from Disney. I felt like they needed to be put in a bubble. They kept going on and on about how cute and sweet everything was. I was losing my sarcastic and cynical mind.

P.S. I think a bunch of sumo wrestlers in the back of a pick-up would totally get across the weight it could hold, don't you?

Sometimes I bitch.

I have had a terrible week and every moment it gets worse.
I think that mother nature hates me. Everyday that I have to work, it is GORGEOUS outside. The minute I have sometime off, it gets cold or rainy. I want a nice day at home, where I can enjoy it.
Work is less pleasant then usual, and I know, I know, it's work being unpleasant is its job; but I am very tired of the reward for a job well done is twice as much crap to do. We revamped our website, switched servers and the software we use to maintain it, but our previous website is incompatible and I am forced to spend hours on end inputting countless page after page just to make it look like it used to look. Then everyone is like, "What have you been doing?"
Also, I am fed up with bad drivers. My thirty mile commute (one way) is set up so that it is next to impossible to pass people 75% of the time, especially between the town in which I live and the one directly east of it. However there is a special truck/slow car lane at one spot that is specially designed to let the fast people get past the slow people. I feel that people traveling 2 miles above speed limit do not qualify for this lane. People, if I am riding up your butt when it is time for this pass, GET OUT OF MY WAY! If you are not going to pass the person in front of you who has moved into the right lane, GET OUT OF MY WAY! Also, and most importantly if you are a truck, you must move over and get into the truck lane, that is why it says TRUCK LANE!!! I am trying to get somewhere and I am tired of being stuck behind your stupid 57 mph butt when I want to go 70! Maybe I'll get a ticket, but I don't care; I just want to get to work/home.

Restless...

There are some nights when, for no apparent reason, I just can not sleep. As you can tell by the time, this is one of those nights. I feel very tired, but I tossed and turned for twenty or so minutes and I knew sleep wasn't in the cards, so I got up.
I had a lousy day at work, because there is this evil woman who doesn't like to do her own work and so tries to wrangle everything into a PR/Marketing issue. My boss doesn't like to deal with her, so she delegates all dealings with her to me. She makes me nuts. She'll email questions to me, wait for me to answer, not read the email and then call me on the phone to ask the same questions that I've already answered, and she's a time-sucker. Always expecting that I'm at work doing nothing and so obviously I want to whatever project is tossing around in her head, then when I spend a lot of time doing her crap, she acts like she never asked me to do it in the first place. Grrrrrr!

But as much of a time-sucker that this lady is, she can not top my ex-boss. She was terrible. I mean she worked in PR/Marketing for goodness sakes and she would eat while on the phone with journalists. I would go insane because my desk was right next to hers and I could hear her eating and clacking away at her keyboard. She didn't know that there were two legs on the back of her keyboard and one was ALWAYS falling down so her keyboard would bang and bang and bang on her desk every time she hit a key (Clack-thunk, Clack-thunk, Clack-thunk) the second she left her office, I would run over and fix it, but it never helped. It would get knocked down, and soon it would start again.
Then she would have meetings with the entire staff (one at a time) down in the cafe. One meeting on Monday morning to tell her the ten things we planned to do all week and one on Friday afternoon to tell her what we did. It was mind numbing. When your job involves writing a huge brochure that maybe the only thing you do for like two weeks at least, and that is working with only your lunch break. So I had to break everything up into steps. But the worst was that I created a database of all the people we worked with and it was so easy a monkey could use it. It had switchboards and everything. It was all point and click. But she had to have a manual and I had to write it, complete with picture showing every dialogue box that would pop up. She wanted these things to be more thorough than the real Access manuals. Nothing made me happier than the day I walked out of that place and went on "maternity leave" and never came back!

I am happy to note that my quitting started a PR/Marketing exodus that led to all (and I can officially say that now, Yay! Lynda!) of her staff quitting or moving to a different department one-by-one. I have heard that she lost considerable power and no longer bosses anyone. Karma bites you in the ass people! Pay attention!

Saturday at Work

I am on lunch at work on Saturday. Saturday work stinks, however, I don't have sick time since I am only part-time so I need to make-up the hours I missed on Wednesday and Thursday when I was sick. I don't like being here on Saturdays, the offices are dead. I know there are patients and nurses etc. downstairs, but it is dark and lonely (and therefore creepy) here on the second floor.
The other day it was in the fifties and I saw a kid walking down the street in just jeans and a t-shirt. Not nearly warm enough for that. It did remind me, though, of when I was 12 or 13 and I'd walk down to my best friend's house in nothing but my "Esleep" pajamas. I loved my Esleep pajamas. I had 3 or 4 pairs. They were shorts and this baseball jersey type top. I think they came from JC Penny's.
Pretty much all I wore when I was that age was my school uniform or my Esleep Pajamas, unless I went somewhere other to the Maher's (which was at the end of my block) or to the Hunt's which was across the street, which didn't happen often; we were lazy. There were times we even went to Walgreen's in them (my friend Chris had them too, but I'm not sure about Lauren.) I have a picture somewhere of me and my precious pjs making one of those embroidery thread, friendship bracelets that were big in the early 90's. I'll post it if I ever find it.

On Work and Birthdays.

There are certain times when I enjoy having a job again, and there are times that I don't. Today is a day that I don't. At the moment, Mr. Hobbitfeet is at home with a sick Girl, and being here is killing me. Mr. H. stayed home because the last few times a kid has been sick I stayed home. Also, I only work part-time and I don't get sick days but Mr. H. does.
I fully trust that he's is doing a good job. He is a great dad. I, however, am quite often a control freak and just hate that I am not there taking care of her.
Not to mention the fact that since we were so busy in January, we had to put off all the sales people who wanted to meet with us and sell advertising to the hospital. So since February started we have had nothing but meeting after meeting with radio/tv/newspaper people telling us why we should advertise with them. These are quite possibly the most BORING meetings (with the exception of the staff meeting I had while at COT where the director read our 100 page demographic study out loud for 1.5 hours).
One reason I hate these meetings is that although I fit "Our Key Demographic" as a married woman aged 25-49 with children, I don't behave like a "Typical East-Central Illinoisian" so when my boss asks me if I would listen to this radio station or watch that tv show the answer is always no! I hate being the voice of the "GEN-Xers" for my boss. The phrase makes me vomit. This is why I should not be in PR/Marketing. I hate demographics! Also, sales people!



On a totally different topic. My birthday is a week from Sunday, so everybody buy me presents! Seriously, everybody says I am super hard to buy presents for, but I don't think I am. Here is an easy shopping guide in the world of Woodlandmama:

1. Don't buy me clothes, I am fat and you aren't going to get the right size, so don't try. But, if you find it super neccessary to buy me clothes, don't get me skirts, see-through shirts or anything pink. I am a jeans and t-shirts girl. I have been since I was a kid. I have never, ever enjoyed dressing up. So, don't bother.
2. The only jewelery I wear are my wedding/engagement rings. I never wear watches, or necklaces no matter how pretty.
3. There are things I wish I had but I don't:
a. Original Broadway Cast Recordings, I have Annie, West Side Story and the Full Monty, I don't even need to have seen the play. If the music is good, I would love to have it. The only exception would be the Sound of Music, I would prefer the movie soundtrack to that. I dislike Mary Martin.
b. Season 4 and 5 of Angel on DVD. That is all I am missing to complete my Buffyverse collection.
c. DVDs. There are millions of movies that I don't have on DVD that I love: Heathers, Star Wars- Episode 3 (Hey then I'd have all the Star Wars movies). Shakespear in Love... If you question if I have a movie ask Mr. H., he wouldn't know but he could look in the movie cabinet.
d. New karaoke cds. We have so many karaoke nights that new songs are appreciated. In fact there were two I saw at Wal-mart that I wanted though I can't remember what they were. I think it was like the Billboard Karaoke Hits from the 60's, 70's, 80's & 90's Vol. 1 and 2.

See, that wasn't so complicated was it? Ha, Ha nothing like shameless begging on my blog. Hey, now that you know, tell Mr. H. He refuses to read this. Although he tells his friends to read it (Cheers Jason!), he hasn't even glanced at it.