I've decided I need to pick the grateful posts back up. I can't commit to a day. I may not even make it to this once a week. They probably won't always be in the same format either. These thoughts are always in mind even if they're not on "paper" here, but the act of putting them down in writing does my soul good. And with the end of the year quickly approaching, I feel it's best to end on a high note.

There seems to be a lot circling lately, like something big is coming. The universe seems to be preparing me for something. I have no idea what; I can't even point to exactly what I mean. Maybe it's just a feeling or an intuition. Maybe it's that I feel a need for a change. Something has to give sometime.

I'm tired of talking about and thinking about work. When I was young, I thought I'd make something big out of myself, that I'd become a magazine editor and create beautiful pages, or that I'd write awe-inspiring articles for some big newspaper. Life took such a toll on me, between my family's problems and the pressure I put on myself, that I gave up trying. I took the easy way out, the art history route, that required no more than me putting my nose in a book and visiting quiet, peaceful museums. The thought of it now lulls me into a peaceful state. I fought so hard for so much of my early life, fought for myself and for women and for animals, fought against people who'd rather I didn't exist, who'd rather continue to step on me and those I stood for on their way up, that eventually I did feel trampled and squashed. So I gave up and retreated into myself. I see it now, though at the time I thought I was just doing what was best for me. I guess it was what was best for me, but I feel like I also cheated myself out of what could have been an amazing, if trying and stressful, life.

The annoying part is that despite me running from positions of power, they somehow keep getting thrust upon me. This office looks to me for guidance now, and I feel no more suited to that than I would to swimming in the Olympics or figuring complex math equations. I'm out of place. I'm torn as well, because I feel cheated, like if I was going to be this stressed out, it could have at least been for something that I cared about, some cause or career that I wanted, rather than one I fell into unintentionally. And if a stressful yet worthy career was something I wanted to avoid, why can't I actually do that and find something peaceful that I can do?

It's not that I don't care about my work. I care about the people here and about making this work so we all succeed, so we can make enough money to do the fun things in life without worrying about paying bills, so that we can make a difference in the lives of our customers. But running a company is stressful, and our customers half the time are jerks. I keep coming back because of my coworkers, because I care about them. If it wasn't for them, I would have been gone a long time ago. I am grateful for them. I'm also grateful for the lessons this job has taught me, like management skills, communication skills (HR will do that, quick), patience, and even more empathy and understanding, though I thought I had no more room left for that.

I'm grateful for this trying and stressful year. It didn't kill me, so it must have made me stronger.

fed up

I'm so fed-up today, so frustrated. The boss tells me I should be the bigger person, I should start the conversation with rude woman. That it was all just a miscommunication, she thought I meant something I didn't mean, I thought she was saying something she wasn't saying. Fine, got it, I fully recognize and take responsibility for my part in that. I did not, however, blow up, send a nasty email, and then never try to apologize for it. I have never and would never do that, not to the degree she did.

This is not to say I don't get mad. That same day I raised my voice to an employee who screwed something up, but I never ventured into personal territory, I never insulted him, and a few moments after raising my voice I returned and apologized for my manner. We laughed about it. And that's the way it should be-- we're all going to get fed up and frustrated from time to time, but her reaction was WAY out of line, and her lack of an apology is just as bad.

All I get are excuses from the boss. She was tired, she was stressed out, she was trying to protect a fellow worker (who is a gay man) because he was stressed out, and she feels a natural tendency to protect men like him. BLAH BLAH BLAH. I've worked hard for this company for two years, killing myself, stressing myself out, because I believe in what we're doing and I believe in our people. She's been around a few months and she thinks she gets to talk to me about stress? About staying up all night working? She thinks her relationship with our boss is more important than mine?

He says she feels like we don't respect her, that we don't take her seriously. What does he expect when we've never seen her resume, know nothing about her, and she gets dropped on us to manage, makes more money than most of us, and the first thing she produces for us is crap. Crap. So he gives her a different project. Now this one she is running with, she's good at this. But ultimately we don't totally trust her, and I certainly don't trust her professionalism (who writes 'hahahahhaaha" all the way across the line of an email to a client, anyway?), plus the part of the project that led to the blow up was about money, and that's my domain around here. She wants to spend our money, I'm going to prod and ask questions. It's my job. We're broke.

So we're all feeling a little like he's brought her in because she's his friend, she lost her job, and now he's paying her more than the rest of us, and her output is questionable. Then she insults me. I'm just at a total loss as to how I'm supposed to find my way to being the "bigger person" here.

Don't get me wrong, I love my boss. He's the best boss I've ever had and probably ever will. But he's fallible, and I think this whole thing was a mistake. I just have to get him to see it, and I don't know how.

I go back and forth. One minute I think, "I have got to let this go. I will let this go." And I feel better. Then I think, "No one talks to me that way. As much as my grandfather told me that nothing worth doing was easy, he also would never have let anyone talk to him that way." And I want to have a very frank conversation with my boss.

I know you're all sick of hearing about this. I'm really struggling here, though. I'm trying to get it out of my head. I worked myself up to tears this morning thinking about it. She's not just going to go away after a week-- he's talking about keeping her on full time. I'm so frustrated.

lord, grant me patience

I'm not a religious person, but I need a prayer today. It's only 10 a.m. and already I feel the ire and resentment boiling up inside my chest. I'm clenching my jaw. I have to keep reminding myself every 3 minutes, unclench.

The rude woman has continued to be rude. She's emailing around me, sending things to my boss about his schedule instead of to me, though she knows that I both manage his calendar exclusively and receive his emails too. Then when I reply with a proposed time, she emails him back and says whether or not it will work. This morning she is trying to schedule a meeting with the whole team about the project and is not including me on it. It's entirely passive-aggressive, not to mention pathetic.

Part of me, a big part of me, wants to lash out. I want to put her in her place and remind her who pays her check. I want to outright fire her. It's unfortunate that we need her for this project, which should be done in the next week. It's also unfortunate that she has a friendship with my boss from a previous job. It's clouding his vision-- he's ever so slightly defending her when I bring her up, saying things like "well, the project will be over soon, and she's just stressed." I feel like he should be defending me, his ally, his #1 employee, who was insulted and belittled by this crazy woman.

But another part of me believes what you all have told me-- that I should be patient, that I should try to learn from this. That anyone who acts this way is frightened and insecure. I'm trying to be the bigger person, trying to swallow my pride and just get on it with it. I feel sabotaged and ignored, but I'm trying to put out peacefulness, kindness, and calmness into the world. It's so hard.

As my grandfather would have told me, nothing worth doing is ever easy.

absent

I don't mean to be so absent. I'm present, fully present, in my life, which I suppose dictates that I must be more absent here. I'm outside of my head lately, and it's only when I'm inside my head that I feel the urge to post, to explore what's there. I'm reacting without really thinking, which I don't like but is becoming more and more familiar.

Work has been very, very difficult. The company is broke to the point where I feel guilty about cashing my pay check-- even though the company's bank will cover it so it won't bounce, I know there's not enough money in the account to pay it. We're struggling through, day to day, trying to pay bills.  The SBA and all other avenues we've tried for small business funding have fallen though. Apparently you have to prove that you don't need money (that you're able to pay your bills off in time and that you have a good credit history) before they will give you any money. I know they have to cover their own asses, but what's the point in giving a loan to someone who already has money? If we had money to cover our bills, we wouldn't need a loan.

Luckily the rest of my life has been peachy. All my Christmas shopping is done, and I got some great deals on some perfect presents. We're hosting Christmas lunch at my house with both my parents and my husband's family. We've been spending a lot of time with friends, trying to keep our minds off the dismal work environments we're both dealing with. Boone is growing into a very good dog, the only problem being that he likes to keep the backyard clean... he seems to think Bub is dirtying it when he goes #2, so Boone "cleans" it up... I won't go into more detail there. We're exploring options.

One thing that has been on my mind the last couple of days-- how do you react to rudness? There's a woman who works for us on special projects on a contract basis from her home out west. We have a project that she's been working on that has to be done by next week, so she's stressed, which I understand. But when I said something she didn't like in an email (it wasn't mean, it just wasn't what she wanted to hear), she came back with an insult about my knowledge level of the project and a suggestion that if I wanted it to continue, perhaps I should be the one staying up late to work on it. It was both unprofessional and counterproductive, not to mention rude. My coworker, who is managing the project internally, talked to her, told her to cool off and get back to work, but she has yet to apologize to me for her snap. At this point I'm filing it away, knowing that when she's done with this project I'll make a huge push to never use her again for future projects. I also feel myself leaning towards being a little slower in my replies and a little less friendly too, but I'm trying to just swallow the burnt taste and let it go. What would you do?

letting it go

I am letting and I have let it go. Everything, every cross word, every stressful moment, every nagging thought. I have returned to peace, and all I really had to do was ask myself to do it. Like a page flipped in my mind, like a wave of my hand, I've brushed it all aside, away, and out the door. It's not simply hidden under a rug or around a corner either. It's gone.

I can pinpoint the moment. Riding in the car on the way to dinner with my in-laws Saturday night, an email from work was really grating on me. Even thoughts not about that email were tinted by it, shaded with the negative light it had cast on my mind. "Why?" I thought. Why do I do this to myself? There was nothing I could do about it. Alone in the wild countryside of Illinois, staring into the dark trees and harvested fields, out of cell range, what could I do? Even if I had been in my office staring at these white walls and my computer screen, there would have been little I myself could do other than fret. And fretting solves absolutely nothing. So I stopped. I simply stopped. And somehow that realization-- that I am powerless to affect the ultimate course of these events, that no amount of worrying or stressing will solve a problem I can't solve, that most of the things I worry about never come to fruition anyway-- that thought released me.

I feel lighter. I feel lighter and more determined, determined to find a way past these problems toward solutions. I feel like the road blocks have come down and all that's in front of me is wide-open blacktop. I'm exercising more, complaining about it less. Eating healthier, drinking water. Concentrating at work. Putting away the phone at night, my mind on my husband and my family. Looking forward to time with friends and to the holidays. Being happier. I'm grateful again.

complaints

I'm cold, and I hate being cold. My skin feels tight, like the dry air has shrink-wrapped my ten-pounds-too-heavy flesh into this itchy, ashy human shaped bag, and I hate it. I want to bathe in cucumber and aloe and lotion. My face is freaking out, sore from too much scrub and chemicals trying to wipe away the havoc the new birth control is reaping. After meeting with my counselor this afternoon, I'm going to Walgreens to stock up on anything creamy and soothing. I should drink more water. Mental note. And I take a sip of Coke.

So I'm fat, broken out, stressed out, and poor. Husband's job is not doing so well lately. Who buys cars in an economy like this with Christmas around the corner? No one, apparently. Well, we're not really poor. We started an IRA last month and it's sucking money out of our checking account each month, and I haven't gotten used to seeing that usually extraneous money leave. Plus with the lack of commission coming in, it looks like we're poor. Makes me feel like I can't eat out or buy sweaters or presents though. And I hate that too.

All this hate is what's making me fat. All this stress. My body is hoarding carbohydrates, like a famine is coming, preparing. I feel angry and sad sometimes, because work is so draining, but then I remind myself it's just a job, that it doesn't really matter in the end. If I lose it, oh well, I'll find another one. But I've worked so hard. I'm tired of broken dreams. My last job ended in a broken dream too.

I want to feel free, like I can wear what I want, do what I want, buy what I want, feel and be and say and think what I want without some tiny voice in the back of my head whispering to me, building up uncertainty, saying "But your stomach looks big, your skin is flaky, your hair is flat, you aren't making enough to buy that, it costs too much, no one will understand you, you'll make people mad, people won't like you, you're crazy." I just want to be free of that voice.

I'm trying to imagine a life like that, free from nagging uncertainty. I can't even start. It would be like living on a cloud, high above anything that could hurt me. And that's as far as I can get, I guess because it doesn't exist and never will. We're slowly working toward financial freedom, but the economy isn't helping, and neither is my job. I'll never be free from feeling ugly in some way or another, which logically is absolutely ridiculous, but hey, I'm an American woman, that's how we're programmed. I have no idea how to break free of that.

I've tried to think of things that would make that voice go away, but all that comes is more self-defeatist thinking, like Lose weight, win the lottery, run away screaming. It doesn't help. I'm not sure the counselor is helping either. It definitely doesn't help that it's $40 every time I go, making me feel even more wasteful. I ramble about work the whole time, which is what I do to my husband at night too, and talking about it doesn't help. We need more money and more resources at work. I need the SBA to get off their fat government asses and actually support a new business rather than hiding behind "Oh, you're a software company? That means you have no collateral, you know, like an actual physical product. So sorry, we're still 50 years behind the times. Good luck." Talking to a counselor doesn't fix that, and the stress isn't going to go away until those problems do. I suppose. Maybe she's a miracle worker and can teach me how to ignore those things and still somehow get work done.

Right now, I want to jump in a vat of lotion and float around for a while, my Aimee Mann Pandora radio station being pumped into my ears, keeping all other thoughts out. And have someone serve me a nice dinner afterward. That would help.

soon

I met a counselor yesterday. She was nice, and I think I'll continue to see her. Out of all the people I spoke to, she seems the most down to earth. She only has her Masters so she's not a doctor, but she's got several certifications and such, and she's a good listener, so whatever. I really just need someone to talk to about all this crap in my life, not a pill or a medical diagnosis.

I used to be a good writer. Lately my head is too full of other things, and I can't seem to get the words out of my brain in the proper format. It doesn't help that I've been fighting migraines too. The weather changing is doing a number on me.

I just don't feel like I have anything interesting to say. I used to think of things, read articles, contemplate issues other than work situations, come up with colorful commentary and quirky responses and weird thoughts. Now I just feel tired and drained. Hopefully with the help of my counselor and some stress relieving techniques, my brain will be back on its feet soon.

the search

I've been down a lot lately. I go through cycles like this. Clinical depression runs in my family (just ask my dad) and while I've never been diagnosed as having such, I do go through bouts of feeling low for no real reason.

Work has been stressing me out. I can't hardly think about it without getting anxious. We're not making payroll anymore-- my boss has had his parents send us cash the last couple months. The 15th will be here shortly, and the account is negative right now. I'm not worried so much about me. I'm resilient, I'll find another job, and I'll be fine. But I'm worried about these people that I've hired that put their lives in our hands. My heart is fluttering just thinking about it. We're not to that point yet. If we can make this final push, make it through the next month or so, we have a new product with a ready buyer that will take us well out of the red. We just have to get there.

I feel like I've been saying that for months. If we can just make it to May. If we can just make it through the summer. Now, if we can just make it to Thanksgiving. Will we ever just be ok?

I've also been thinking a lot about myself and the way my brain works. I don't remember things the way I should, like childhood memories. I don't remember my grandmother. It's like somehow all the good memories I should have of her and her personality and the way she loved me are all wiped clean and all I'm left with is this shell of a woman who hardly knows my name. Where did the memories go?? It makes me feel crazy. I feel like I'm living someone else's life half the time, like I'm going to wake up and be someone else. I read somewhere that that's a condition of being an INFJ (my Myers-Briggs personality type) under stress.

Obviously I don't deal with stress very well. So I want to see a counselor. My husband was surprisingly supportive of it despite being a very logical left-brained no-nonsense sort of fellow. He acknowledged that he's not the best person to talk to about emotional matters (no kidding) and that he's been worried about me too because I'm tired a lot lately.

I googled psychologists in my area and didn't come up with much. I have a couple coworkers who see people, and my plan was to avoid them because I didn't want a conflict of interest or a coworker to learn that I was seeing someone too, but with so few in town, I had to call them.

I've got calls into 5 different docs right now, waiting for a call-back to get some questions answered. I did speak to one, but she was so sugary-sweet, I felt like she'd coddle and mommy me, plus her southern accent was so strong "yes" had about three syllables. I make fun of my husband being no-nonsense, but I am too, and I don't want to be babied. I'm an adult, tell me what I'm doing wrong and I'll fix it, but don't sweet talk me. So she was a no-go.

Picking a therapist is hard. Pick the wrong one and you could end up getting a lecture about how "God sure would help" or watching a doctor doodle and twiddle their thumbs while you're spilling your guts and getting nowhere. I also need one that will see me either before or after work.

I wish I was just normal. What is normal though, really?

travel

I feel a strange compulsion to post today, but I have nothing to say.

I started to leave it at that, but things are starting to come to me. Random thoughts, as usual. We were supposed to go to New Orleans to visit friends next month-- next month is November, as a reminder, in case you, like me, are surprised at how incredibly quickly this year has passed-- but hotels were just too expensive that weekend, and for no reason that I could find. We have other friends who regularly go to Saints games and always get the Sheraton on Canal for $65 a night on Priceline, but we couldn't get anything for less than $120 a night. When you throw in New Orleans's outrageous parking fees (sometimes as much as $30 a day) it became ridiculous.

So we're postponing. I would say "until the spring" only we have decided to take our Italian vacation in April. Venice, Florence, Rome, and the Amalfi coast, 14 days in glorious springtime in Italy. I've already seriously begun to plan, and we applied for a new credit card last night.

We applied for the Chase Sapphire card because of the great things we've heard and read about their live "concierge" customer service. A lost or stolen card in Italy requires me to be on the phone with a real American person directly, not redirected to India or sitting through a recording and hold music. It's only available to folks with credit scores higher than 750. Because the only credit card I ever had was  one that belonged to my dad but was in my name throughout high school and college, I have superb credit. People take their credit scores for granted, but mine has allowed me to buy several things interest free (couch, washing machine and dryer, etc.) as well as get a really low interest rate on both my mortgage and my car (used, of course. Suckers buy new). Because we're tight-fisted and, frankly, anal about our finances, my credit has remained high through the years though I haven't actually used it to my advantage in a while. So hopefully they come back with a decent APR-- we'll never carry a balance, but I like to be wanted and appreciated.

Back to work. Oh, lunch first.

kryptonite

Seeing a dead dog on the side of the road brings me to my knees, zaps everything I have gathered inside me to face the day, leaves me parched and aching like a dry socket after a wisdom tooth removal.

What's your kryptonite?

let down

I've been looking forward to it since last night. Husband was supposed to do it for me, but he was distracted and promised to take care of it first thing this morning. I figured that probably wouldn't happen-- he's too busy in the mornings, after sleeping that extra ten minutes in, to even take care of his own needs, much less mine. So I did it myself-- retrieved my instruments from their hidey-holes, laid out a surface on which to perform, and went to work. Satisfied, I cleaned up, packaged my results, and went off to work.

I made myself wait until 10:30. It was sitting there, staring at me, condensation and sweet nectar collecting on the skin, glinting at me through the clear plastic box. Finally, 10:30, and I popped the top. The flesh, like skin too long in the summer sun, had faded from bright white to spotty tan, but I knew that the sweet juiciness would not be affected. Picking out a large sliver and holding it delicately between my thumb and forefinger, my teeth sliced down through the pulp, pulling and tearing when the outer skin was reached. Munching away, at first happy and finally sated, I frowned. Not sweet, not juicy, not tasty at all. Like bland, tasteless, brown mush. Just about the worst apple ever.

I hope that doesn't say something for the fate of my day.

on my mind

My brain won't stop today. Here's what's racing through:

1) How old do you have to be to not have acne anymore? Who created and perpetrated the lie that it's only for teenagers? Surely 28 is old enough to have "adult" skin? I have to go to a baby shower tomorrow looking like I'm not even old enough to have friends who can have kids.

2) I need another vacation, but I just got back from one. Here's a picture I took. I want to live in this picture. It's now my desktop background, so it's too bad I keep having work piled on top of it... excel is so ugly in comparison.

the view from the edge of Charleston, SC

3) I want Chinese food for dinner, but I want a buffet, but I don't want to go sit down with people to eat it. Do they do to-go buffets?

4) I feel like a terrible person when I get annoyed that my parents are coming up, once again, this weekend to stay. They stay in our guest room, fyi. But they raised me, the least I can do is put them up a few nights a month, right? All I want to do is lay on the couch and wallow (see #1), not entertain or even be looked at.

5) Most of the annoyance this time comes from the fact that they want me to help them, at 7 a.m., with a garage sale at their storage unit here. Ugh. I'm a good daughter, I'm a good daughter...

6) Some days I feel trapped, but not my by husband or my animals, but mostly by the "conventions" of life like houses and jobs. I want to roam around, barefoot and wild, like buying an RV and driving driving driving. But I like showers and luxuries and home too. So it doesn't last long.

7) There are times I feel like I'm walking a dream, that I'll wake up and get back to my normal life, which has to be much more fatastical than this, where I'm a different person, one not trapped by my insecurities or failings or ineptitudes. Because why would creatures such as humans, who are given the ability to do such wonderful and amazing things like think and write and make music be destined to live such boring and sad existances? Why do only 1 in 10 of us actually do something with ourselves with the short time we're given? Why do the rest of us wallow in anonymity and medocrity and self-pity and patheticness?

8) I need a coke.

9) Boone is a great dog with a great personality, and I love him. But I will never love him the way I love Bub. Why is that? Maybe it just takes time. Scares me even more about having children. As my husband would say, "reason #1,490,583 not to have kids."

10) I think if I were to ever sing karoke, which would probably only happen in the world from #7, if even there, I would sing Always on my Mind. I particulaly like Willie Nelson's version because his voice sounds like a dad singing to a daughter and for some reason that gets me. Why this song? Because it's a beautiful song, but also because there are no huge notes to fail miserably when you try to hit and no long periods of time with no singing where everyone is watching you expecting you to dance or do something to fill the void between words flashing up on the screen for you to sing. And people stop and listen to it whenever it comes on. I don't think I've ever met anyone who could listen to this song without feeling something, without stopping and thinking about someone you weren't good to, someone you took for granted, someone you miss. Try it.

dog whisperer I am not

dom·i·nant [dom-uh-nuhnt]
–adjective
1. ruling, governing, or controlling; having or exerting authority or influence: dominant in the chain of command.
2. occupying or being in a commanding or elevated position.

al·pha [al-fuh]
–adjective
a. (esp. of animals) having the highest rank of its sex in a dominance hierarchy: the alpha female.
b. being the most prominent, talented, or aggressive person in a group

Neither of these adjectives describe me at home. Now, at work-- that's a different story. As I've mentioned recently, I am two different people: one, at work, is self-assured, authoritative, and unafraid. The other, at home, is meek, still, and quiet. I could be neither one without the other-- one is my relief from the other.

I will fully recognize that I let Bub run my house too much. He's small and doesn't ask for much, so to let him lead on walks or beg for food or jump on the couch without asking really didn't affect my life that much in any negative way. Throw this big, lumbering, clumsy, teenage puppy into the mix, though, and we've got a problem. And I think he's big now... no telling the mess he'll be able to make when he's full grown if I don't nip this in the bud right now. By the way, we've named him Boone.

I've been researching puppy training. I've always watched the dog whisperer and agree with his reinforcement and calm-assertive techniques. The problem isn't the dog; it's me. I feel myself getting frustrated, pent-up anger boiling inside my chest, yelling instead of calmly and directly giving instructions. I wouldn't yell or get angry at work, so I don't know where that comes from at home. I guess it's because I am the other person at home, the quiet one who expects her world at home to be quiet as well, so when anything disturbs that it upsets me.

But I'm working on it, and we're getting there. It's a learning experience for both of us. I knew better than to get a puppy... but as puppies go, he's smart, well-meaning, quite calm actually, and can entertain himself for the most part. I've begun getting up at 7 a.m. to walk him before work, and I go home at lunch as well. At night we walk again, but anything beyond 15 minutes outside is too much. It's 104 here today. Fetch will come later this month, when the sun decides to stop trying to fry us like eggs.

He walks on a leash perfectly, I'll give him that. He occasionally gets excited and tries to pull, but one Cesar-style quick tug on the leash and he's back in line beside me. He can also sit on command about 90% of the time. The other 10% comes from him being a puppy with an attention span of about 3 seconds. He knows what to do, he's just not always listening.

We're learning down-- that's an easy one. Stay is the big problem. Again, with such a short attention span, to get him to pay attention to the fact that he should remain on his hindquarters for longer than it takes for me to step away is quite a feat. I need him to learn stay, though, because he bolts in and out of doors so quickly I know he's going to take me and Bub down with him eventually-- it's only a matter of time. I make him sit every time he wants something, whether it's food, a toy, to go out, or even a pat on the head. He's working for me. He resists my commands much more often than my husband's; I've decided it has to do with the tone of his voice, so now I boom out in a deep timber when I say SIT. It seems to also help if I over-enunciate the T, with a little spit at the end. Can you tell I'm over-analyzing?

I know what will help me the most will be to see continued progress with him and to gain confidence from that progress. What he needs from me most is for me to be a confident leader, like the people at work have, and not the quiet girl my husband knows best. I have to train myself first.

Boone and Bub, on their first day together. Bub has claimed Boone's new bed, and Boone is trying desperately to get Bub to play with him.

signs that your husband loves you

6) Even though he's not quite sure about the whole thing, he lets you adopt a dog in need, and then comments on how good it does feel to save one and very happily tries to think of a name with you.

Meet the newest member of our clan... yet to be named (Buster? Buddy? Ernie? Petty? Hesus?), a five-month-old lab/pointer mix from the local shelter, found abandoned and starving at a run-down apartment complex, now to be loved and spoiled and cherished his whole life:

7) All these things and so many more tiny things, like reaching out and squeezing my knee while he's driving, or running his hand down my back while we wait on a table at a restaurant, or letting me have the last of the peach cobbler, or sending me flowers even when I told him not to, with a handwritten card so sweet it brought tears to my eyes...

If I could give any advice to anyone on how to find a mate, I would say, "Find your best friend, and marry them!" Living every day with him is a joy, not a job, and I wouldn't trade any of it, not the worsts, not the struggles, not the sicknesses, not any of it.

signs that your husband loves you

5) He has to kiss you goodbye three times before he leaves for the day.

signs that your husband loves you

2) When he uses his earned free Chinese buffet (buy 9, get the 10th free) to take you to lunch.

3) If he can't make reservations at the restaurant you want because it's closed for a private party the night of your anniversary, he makes plans to take you instead to the restaurant where you had your first date, and then makes reservations for Sunday brunch at the restaurant you wanted to go to in the first place. All to make you happy, even though a frozen pizza would be fine, as long as you're with him.

4) When you get up for work on the morning of his day off, he cajoles you to spend an extra five minutes in bed so you can rub his head and talk to him about his plans for the day.

signs that your husband loves you

Friday is my fifth wedding anniversary. In celebration, I'm going to be naming things this week that show, even after five years, an international move, loss of loved ones, buying a house, finding jobs, and becoming adults, it's possible to still be totally and completely in love with someone. 

1) When you turn over in the middle of the night, half-awake, and the cover slides down off your arm a little, exposing some skin, and you feel your husband reach over and quietly and gently slide the sheet back up over your arm to protect you, you know you're really loved.

the real me

Please excuse the cryptic nature of my last post. It was a late-night thought, one that was rattling around in my head as I tried to find sleep after a tough Friday, and I figured if I put it out there, on "paper," it would stop assaulting my brain so I could get some sleep. It worked, thankfully.

I also think, on occasion, you get better answers if you lead with the question rather than the explanation, and that also worked this time, thankfully. Thank you for your comments, they were all very provoking.

On to the explanation. My boss forced me to have a conversation with Emily on Friday. He sat down as the mediator and made us talk to each other honestly about the tension that's been between us for the last couple months. She explained that this is her first real job, and as she watched me take on new duties in my stride, she began to get nervous about her place here, plus with all the growth we've had she's been stressed out anyway. This caused her to freak out and tell me a couple different times that she "didn't care anymore" and that she wanted to quit.

I, in turn, stopped caring about her. In my mind, if she was done with us, if she was on the way out the door, then what was the point of having conversations with her and debating points with her? Why should she get a say in anything if she didn't care anymore?

She told me that she's fine now, that she's over that feeling, that she's found her place and she's happy. It's true that she and my boss aren't fighting anymore, which I'm sure was causing some of those issues.

But I, being me, feel myself not being "over" it. I still feel uneasy with her, unable to trust that she's not going to get stressed out and threaten to quit all over again. I feel like maybe she showed me her true colors. We all get overwhelmed and worried and panicked sometimes, but I see now how she  reacts to that-- like a child throwing a tantrum rather than a rational adult. Of course she and I are exact opposites (quite literally), so I probably shouldn't expect any different, but I would at least hope that she would recognize that both as her friend and the manager of HR for our company, she shouldn't drag me under with her when she starts to flail. It wouldn't help either of us.

I suppose I, as her friend, should have recognized what her struggle was really about, but I've never been very good at reaching out to those in need in any emotional way. I am guarded. I give rational advice, not a shoulder for irrational fears. I always have been and probably always will be this way. I learned very early on that I am too soft-hearted to let most people in. I nearly lost myself at 12 when my brother threatened to rip me to pieces, and so the wall went up. I really think if I took it down for the wrong person I could lose myself again.

I steel myself up continually, swallow down that part of me that really just wants to weep for the state of the world, and face the day bravely, with a cold stare and a raised eyebrow, because it's all I know how to do. I think if I were to let go, there would be nothing left to gather back in. The world sees me as cold and stoic, but those that I've let in know the truth about me, that I'm a blubbering idiot with a heart of mush. Just ask my husband. I feel schizophrenic, that there are people in the world who, when I do something at work like laugh and lightly skip down the hall, look at me and say, "Wow, I've never seen that side of you before." While others, when they visit me at work or listen to me speak to an outsider, say, "Where did that come from?" in reference to my cool or logical tone.

I am both of these people, I need both of these people in order to survive, and one is not whole without the other. The problem occurs when they try to meet, like when a coworker is also a friend, or when a family member becomes an outsider by breaking my trust, and my heart. Then I get confused and am never sure how to react or who to be. Which one is the real me? Which one do I prefer? Neither, and both.

self-reflection

My trust is not easily won and then not easily lost. Once lost, however, it's near impossible to win back. I don't think this is a good thing. If I know this about myself, why can I not change it?

some days

There are some days that I just want to physically assault people.

I am so fed up. I feel like my soul is boiling in my chest, that if I open my clenched jaw an ear-piercing scream will emerge, my hands so tight in fists I nearly puncture palms with fingernails. I can't abide ineptitude, incompetence, and I have absolutely no patience for backhanded, sweetly-veiled threats. Absolutely none. Say it or don't, but tell the truth, and don't expect to hear from me anything but the truth in return.

A coworker, Emily actually, someone who up until recently I counted as a friend as well, has been driving me up the wall. I'm at the point that I just can't take it anymore. The fighting between her and our boss (her close friend) got to a point where they finally exploded and now they don't talk unless it's purely for business. It's actually worked better for the most part, for all of us, but she's decided for some reason that she'll fight with me instead. Every favor I ask of her is met with some sort of remark, every challenge I present her in a discussion is met with harsh disdain. I don't know if it's jealousy or fear at how quickly we're growing or just stress, but I'm so tired of it that I catch myself snapping back at her for no good reason. Mostly I just ignore her comments and only talk to her about work-related things, and 80% of the time we're ok. It's the other 20%, though, that's going to do me in.

Today, she asked me if I thought she could get a raise. She framed it with "I know we're struggling financially right now, but I really need a better car [hers is nearly dead], and I can't afford it on what I'm making now." Our company has been in the red the last few months as we struggle to finish up some projects. We're a small company, a start-up, and we rely very heavily on each other. She was the second of the twenty employees we have, and she carries a lot of responsibility no one else could pick up right now. She knows all that very well. Not to mention that I'm not sure she's earned the raise either. She works hard, sure, and does a lot of work, but she makes sure that we all know exactly how hard she's working, and she's threatened three times in the last six months to quit. She's cut back on her hours and has asked to leave the leadership team as well.

When I told her I didn't think raises would be possible til December, she said she was going to be looking for a weekend job, but that she's also going to be polishing up her resume to send out, "just to see what's out there." Oh, and "please don't say anything to anyone."

Maybe I'm just taking it the wrong way. Maybe it's the day I'm having. But what that looked like to me was "Give me a raise, please. Oh, you can't? Well, why don't I just see who will," without any understanding of the fact that we all, all twenty of us, are working our fingers to the bone towards a common purpose, a common aim, and that none of the rest of us are so self-important as to think that we could just give up on that purpose and walk away from this. I can't imagine quitting. I would feel tremendous guilt for those I had left behind to pick up my pieces. I care about the people here and about our work, but apparently having a newer car is more important to her than that. I'm busting my balls here, struggling, pushing pieces of my personal life to the side, so that one day I can say that I helped my friend, my boss, create an amazing company that does amazing work, and sit by his side around a large Board of Directors table, a Chief in front of my title, and look back on the meager beginnings we had. But apparently she'd rather have an SUV than see the rest of us and herself succeed here. Apparently she doesn't care as much as I thought she did. And I don't know what to do with that, other than to clench my jaw,  swallow it down, and get on with my work.

temptation not quite resisted

I'm eating an apple, a petite fist-size Pink Lady, juicy with a purse-your-lips-sour afterglow, the way I would think this magenta-pink color would taste if colors had tastes. But I don't want it. I want a Kit Kat. And a Dr. Pepper.

Last night for dinner we had baked salmon, brown rice, and sauteed squash (fresh from my backyard), but I didn't want it. I wanted a cheeseburger (veggie-burger, please) and steak fries. Even though I had had mac and cheese, sweet potato casserole, and cornbread for lunch.

I'm on a junk food kick. I want to fill myself up with cheesy biscuits and soft drinks and mint ice cream and chocolate brownies and McDonald's fries. And, yes, all at once is fine. In fact, it's better.

I'm sucking down this apple bite by bite even though the sourness is parching my throat and the chewiness is hurting my teeth. It's not even a good apple. I have cash-- that's the problem. There's a gas station next to my office, full of Ding-Dongs and M&Ms and caffeinated drinks, and I have cash in my wallet that's begging to be spent. I never have cash, they only take cash, and I'm hungry for junk food. Sounds like a no-brainer, right?

Yep.

Hey, at least it's a Coke Zero

no pill for "old"

I splashed cold water on my face and, cross-eyed, I watched the soapy water drip off the end of my nose into the sink. It's already July 1, I thought, half the year gone. How old am I? 27. No... that's not right. I was born in '82... it's 2010... I'm 28. How am I 28? Shit, I'm almost 30. Old. My heart palpated in my chest a little as I reached for the navy hand towel. I remember that show, 30-something, that was on when I was a kid. My mother used to watch it, and I remember thinking how old they were, how adult-like, and how long it would take for me to get there, there where my mother was too. And yet now I'm here, and she's quickly approaching 60 herself.

As I was sitting in the puce vinyl chair at the doctor's office this morning, flipping through a somewhat sticky copy of Lucky, I finally heard my name called so I stood up and walked down the hall, obediently following the nurse in purple scrubs. Thirty minutes and three games of iPhone soduku later, my doctor finally came in to talk to my about my birth control options. She pulled out the little green pill book from the pocket of her white coat and flipped to the page that had my original triphasic pill listed.

Basically, she said, I have four options:
1- Try an IUD. Not recommended because I haven't had children, therefore my cervix may have trouble accepting it. Plus she had a patient whose IUD got lost and she got pregnant-- that's how she found out it was gone. Not good for a control freak like me.
2- Try the ring. Good because it's less to remember than the pill and it's low-dose estrogen, but it's different progesterone from my current pill so it may cause side effects, one of which is going crazy.
3- Try the generic for my current pill. A good, cheap option.
4- Switch to another pill, a low estrogen pill, that has the same estrogen and progesterone as my original pill (hence the same medically as the generic too). Recommended because I'm getting older and need to be on less estrogen in order to prevent blood clots.

She used those words, getting older. Nonetheless, we went with option 4 for now. She gave me six sample packs of Loestrin 24 Fe as well as a card that will get me the prescription for less than $24 a pack for a full year. I can't beat six months free followed by 1/3 price pills, not even with a generic. She thinks this will work for me since it's medically the same hormones and also a lower dose. And she kept saying we need to prevent blood clots now that I'm older and that when I'm 34, I need to switch to either an IUD or something non-hormonal. Apparently that's a you're-too-old cut off point. But that's years and years away, right?

pains

As if $75 for birth control isn't enough, my new insurance also raised my Treximet (migraine med) price, from $50 to $100. Luckily my (very awesome) pharmacist told me there was a $50 coupon online I could print out, so I should be good for a few more months now with the new prescription. And really, I'll probably just pay the $100 next time as well. Nothing else has ever worked the way Treximet does for me, and with as few side effects as I've ever experienced. A little flushing, a little bit of an on-edge, drunk type feeling, but mostly I'm fine, and within an hour pain-free as well.

I've had a headache since Friday. Friday afternoon I took a Treximet and was good til Saturday morning. Saturday afternoon I took another and was good til Sunday mid-day. I haven't taken another yet, though my head is pounding pretty good right now, all around my right eye, as usual. Not so much that I can't work, but enough that I don't want to work.

Speaking of pain, my little brother contacted me again last week. He was apologetic and said he's officially off all drugs other than pot. Since then he's messaged me and called me, and he seems mostly back to normal. So I've let it go, all that pain from the past six months of anger. I'm chalking it up to him being a dumbass and messing around with stuff he knew he shouldn't be, and luckily he found his way out of it before there wasn't a way out anymore. I told him how great I thought he could be, how spectacular his life could be, if he stays clean, and he agreed. He's got one of those dynamic, idea-driven minds, the kind that can accomplish so much if not inhibited, and the only thing that was inhibiting was drugs.

He's driving a friend from Portland to Alabama as his friend's dad is very sick with cancer right now (that's the kind of guy my brother usually is, the kind that drives a friend half-way across the country at the drop of a hat) so they're stopping here overnight on the way, and we're going to dinner. My husband hasn't seen him since the day just before Christmas when I kicked my brother out of my house and called my husband sobbing, so I hope husband can be as forgiving as me and not kick his ass, which is what he's been claiming he would do for six months.

I passed the day of my last hug with my grandfather without thinking about it. I thought about it the week before, and obviously now, and I'm sure I thought about him that day since I think about him every day, but I did not acknowledge that last touch with any tears on that day. It's the first time since his death that I haven't. Is that progress? I'm not sure. It doesn't feel like much, and I'm also not sure I want to make progress.

frustrated

My insurance company is trying to make a medical decision for me. I can't tell you how extremely pissed off I am about it.

I've been on the same birth control, Estrostep FE, since I was 17. I've never had a side effect of any sort-- no moodiness, no weight gain, no acne problems, no spotting, nothing. In fact, it shortened my periods and made my cramps almost completely go away. It's been a blessing as the reason I got on it in the first place was because I was bleeding for weeks at a time and in pain. It was $30 a month until last fall, when they bumped it to $50. No big deal, inflation and all that, I can handle $20 a month extra to keep taking this miracle pill.

Today, my pharmacist, bless his heart, sadly looked at me over his glasses and told me the insurance company had "changed the drug class" and that it's now $75 a month. Are you kidding me??

I could afford it, I suppose. I mean $25 a month-- basically just skip one meal out and we would be ok. And really, our insurance just changed at work a couple months ago and my premium went down about $20, so I suppose it evens out. But it's the principle of it, the fact that the insurance company is trying to price me out of a drug that I've taken for 11 years of my life. 11 years, every single day! And watching that $75 leaving my bank account every month... well I don't know if I can do that.

The reviews I've read of of the generic, Tilia, are terrible-- a good three-fourths of them are along the lines of "I was on Estrostep and switched to Tilia because my insurance changed. It's awful! I've had mood swings, painful cramps, and just generally feel like I'm losing my mind. I'm going back to Estrostep no matter the cost." The other one-fourth say they didn't notice the change. But I just can't imagine I can be on some pill every day of my life for eleven years and not have some sort of issue when I change.

I'm making an appointment with my doctor tomorrow. I went ahead and shelled out the $75 today so that I have a month to make my decision. I played around with the idea of the ring or something more permanent a while back, especially considering that if we do have kids, I know for a fact it won't be for another two or three years at least. But the last thing I want is to feel like a crazy, fat loon with acne and horrible cramps. I'd pay a lot more than $75 a month to avoid that. But maybe I'm already being crazy by not even giving it a try. I mean, what if I switch to something else and it works just as well and costs three times less?

I just hate that my insurance company is forcing me to make this decision, a decision I shouldn't have to and never wanted to make.

over

I closed the door on my adolescence on Saturday night. I attended my ten-year high school reunion, and as one of three people in attendance that don't still live in our hometown, I felt pretty out of place. They all still hang out, still call each other up and go out together. They never grew as people beyond the edges of our town, beyond the friends they made at age 12, beyond themselves. They were exactly the same. How boring.

So as my (very social) husband and I felt relegated to the outside looking in, we didn't stay very long. It was such a weird night, watching them act like nothing had changed, sitting there playing cards, drinking beer, not noticing us. Only nearly everyone had added a partner-- sometimes someone we knew then, sometimes a new face. One new face brought her pugs which she fed with spray cheese from a can and talked to like babies. One or two familiar faces had become unfamiliar from too much spray cheese or beer or some other unhealthy addiction. But for the most part I felt like I had been picked up and transported back in time, and I felt just as uncomfortable and out of place that night as I ever did back then. And even my social butterfly of a husband, who never met a stranger, only had one or two good conversations throughout the night.

That's when I realized-- it's not me. It's that place and those people. I've changed so much over the years, have reinvented myself in a lot of ways. I'm so much more social and bright and alive than I used to be, so much more myself and comfortable in my own skin, but even with that I couldn't find a place in their world. And their world had not changed. I had always thought if I would've had more confidence and been more outgoing that high school would have been better, but I see now that it would not.

So the door is closed, the page is flipped, and that part of my life is over. It was a sigh of relief actually, and not something I physically made myself do, but something that happened to me, that just occurred, peacefully and solemnly.

With that, here are some pictures I've taken recently.

A poppy bud

Bubby, being cute as usual

A sunset off my deck

The sunset

Our new old furniture-- Stickley Bros. of Grand Rapids, circa 1902-1912, Mission style. And Bub

the veil between

A friend told me a story yesterday. Her parents both passed just before her son was born, so he wasn't able to meet them on this earth. She and her siblings would talk about these would-be grandparents, telling him stories about who they were and how much they would have loved him. He's about 5 years old now, and since he could talk he referred to his grandparents as KayKay and Mike.

They have a pool, and one of the boy's favorite things to do is swim. One day, a couple years ago when the boy was 3, early in the morning before anyone else in the house was up, he sneaked from his bed to the back patio door that led to their pool. The door had been left unlocked, so he slid it open. But he just stood there. My friend heard the door open and walked into the room. She paused and watched him for a few seconds, just standing there, and then told him he shouldn't go outside alone, that it was early and dangerous to be at the pool by himself. He said, "Don't worry, Momma. KayKay told me not to go outside too."

My friend said she was surprised at her own reaction at this, which was to thank her mother without questioning the truth of his statement. And it brought her peace.

I've heard children are more open to seeing what adults can't see. There's also the possibility that because of the stories he had been told, he had made his KayKay into an imaginary friend. But a friend who tells him not to do his favorite thing?

What do you think? Have you ever experienced this?

I'm open to it. I pray that my grandfather will visit me in my dreams, but he never has. I am not at peace over his death, and I don't know how to find it, not even now, 4 years after the last day that I saw him alive.

puppy love

I've been wishing for, praying for, conniving and lying for, craving a new family addition lately. Not the pitter-patter of two little feet, but four little pads. I don't know why I need a new dog, like Bub isn't enough, but it's some sort of misplaced maternal instinct, or a rescuer disposition, or something. I feel the need to save something, to love something else. There's room in my heart, house, and wallet.

But.

Husband isn't so excited. In fact, I would say he's totally against it. He cringes when I mention it. I think he's afraid I want to become the crazy cat lady, only the crazy dog lady instead. I can't help it. I get a new animal and am sated for a year or two, and then I get the itch again. We got our cat in 2007, so it's been too long!

I'd really love a big dog. Something like a lab or hound dog or pointer. Bub gets jealous sometimes, but he's so much better with big dogs since my parents have big dogs. Something like a Lewis or a Joyce or a Spot, all three of which are just sitting at the shelter right now...

Lewis, a two-month old Golden Retriever mix. Probably a little too young for us, but how can you deny this face??

Joyce, a three month old Airedale Terrier mix. Got to love the terrier attitude-- full of spunk!

Spot, such a noble and intelligent dog, 1 year old lab mix

I can't stand knowing such beautiful, loving animals are sitting out there right now just begging for someone to take them home!

I scan the roadsides as I drive, I jump at every bark I hear, just hoping that somehow a new dog is going to fall into my lap in such a way that husband can't say no. If a stray happens by, he can't make me take it to the shelter, how could he when he knows what its fate may be there? Talk about guilt trip. But I'd rather just adopt one so that we can figure out which would work best for Bub, temperament wise, and they'll go ahead and spay/neuter it for us, which is a necessity.

I decided to post this here because even though I know seeing these pictures would just make my craving even worse, maybe I'll influence someone else out there to consider a shelter dog. They're not broken, just wizened, and they make the best pets because they appreciate every day they're spoiled.

time flies

I'm old.

As I munched on my raisin bran this morning, perched on the edge of the ottoman in the living room (you can't sit on the couches before work, lest you leave covered in dog hair), I was enraptured by this stylized kid, Justin Beiber, dancing and singing on the Today show, with hoards of prepubescent girls crammed behind danger-orange barriers, all mouthing the words of the song with a glazed-over look in their eyes, only their lips and pupils moving, not even blinking in the flashes of cameras, following him around the stage with the ferocity of a hawk glaring down a field mouse.

Joey, my favorite, on the far right. And yes, he looks like a child.

I was reminded of New Kids on the Block. Remember them, the five boys who brought back boy bands in the 80s, with hits like "Hangin' Tough" and "Step by Step." I was the perfect age for New Kids-mania, and I even had a night shirt with Joey's face printed as big as my 9-year-old body.

Now I don't even know who these teen heart-throbs are. Justin Beiber? He looks like a baby. He can't be older than 14? Did Joey look like that to my parents? The Jonas Brothers, all those kids from High School Musical (which I thought was an actual play and not a movie for the longest time), Hannah Montana, who apparently is also Miley Cyrus... all these pseudo-famous children. Where do they come from? Who are their parents? It amazes me. Go, be children, play in the mud, do your homework, grow up in a small town under oak trees and loving families, not in Hollywood's bright and aging lights.

I felt sorry for his backup dancers and singers, all men in their 20s and 30s. What a life-- to have worked so hard on your craft, be it singing or dancing, just to be backup to a child, a child who is already more famous than you will ever be and already has more money than you will ever have. Well, at least you get the use of his stylist and are briefly on camera on the Today show. At least your mom saw you as you were dancing your heart out behind the short kid with the overly-coiffed blown-front hair and tight white jeans (that no 14-year-old boy in his right mind would ever actually wear on a normal basis), and she got to point you out to all her friends. "Look! That's my baby in the red hoodie! Behind that smarmy kid." It's better than a lot of people do.

It was like watching a train wreck. Repulsed but also amazed, I couldn't look away.

I find it sad that Justin Beiber brought me back to my blog. I needed some time away, time to gather my thoughts. I've been dreaming a lot lately, which is weird for me, but always by the time I get to a notebook or a computer they've faded into the haze and I can't recall anything but the outer-edge feeling of them, like something just beyond my reach, like a lingering taste on the back of my tongue. My headaches have come back after a very quiet winter. Down here, rain storms pop up for no reason and without notice, and it seems that every time one blows through, it rests a little too heavy on my eyelids.

I've been appalled by the oil spill that's threatening the beaches on which I spent a good deal of my childhood. Humans screw up everything we touch. We think we're gods among animals, that we can do no wrong, and even if we do, who is there to punish us? An egret can exact no justice, fish can't sue, and pelicans don't know the meaning of litigation. They suffer at our foolish hands, the hands more interested in Beiber fever and commercialism than preserving our one home planet. Mother Earth, though, she'll get her revenge in the end, when the world is so destroyed that not even us humans can stand to live here. We'll exterminate ourselves, but the rest of the world-- plants, bugs, sea life, animals-- will all come back and thrive when we're gone. They don't need us like we need them.

My first tomato... see it?

There has been much for which to be grateful in the last few weeks as well. Fun times with family and friends, beautiful weather, growing plants in my yard, my first home-grown tomato, a more reliable car purchased, the woman who pulled over and helped me save a lost dog wandering down the highway. Life carries on whether I'd like it to or not. I can't pause it the way I can pause this blog.

That said, I don't know how often I'll be posting now. I enjoyed letting my thoughts build up before finally putting them down. We'll see.

break

Taking a break for a while, not feeling the blog thing lately. Too many things spinning in my head and not enough time or energy to run one down, grab it, and type it up in this box.

I have a doctor's appointment Monday, I think my hormones are screwed up lately. Tired a lot, hypoglycemic, low motivation. I thought it was stress for a while, but I'm happy and relaxed, just not "myself," even after making my diet healthier and forcing more sleep into my schedule.

Other than that, things are good here, so don't fret about me. I just need to stop thinking for a little while, let some of this spring sunshine filter in through my scalp and shine light on the dusty, cobwebbed parts of my brain so I can sweep them clean. I'll be back when I'm all shiny and new.

I will not be undone

Please read this post from this past December.

I did not speak to my little brother for nearly 5 months. He sent me a facebook message not long after this incident, saying that all he wanted to do was prove to me that he was a grown man. My reply was short, indicating that I would only pursue further communication with him when he could actually prove that to me. It's been silent since then, not a call or text or even facebook poke.

I've been fine. Sure, there's a deep hurt there. If you look for it, you'll see the pain wash over my eyes when he's brought up in conversation, but just as quickly it's gone. I've let it go. I've known for a long time that I can't save him or make him grow up or calm down. The only thing I can control is me and my reaction to him, and I've chosen to make my reactions calm and reasonable if and when he does contact me. But I'm not perfect, and I do have a breaking point, as our last encounter in December proved, so I don't initiate. I don't want to. To do so only invites his all-encompassing drama into my life. If he can call me and speak to me like a normal person, I will talk back, but until he proves to me that he's changed, why should I trust him? Why should I go out of my way? I don't care that he's blood. Toxic is toxic.

He called me on my birthday. I wasn't surprised, and it wasn't a terribly strained conversation. He asked me how I was, I told him, and I asked him how he was. He spent the next three minutes talking about himself, his band, his weekend. I (very politely) told him it was nice talking to him, but I had to go as we were walking into the restaurant for dinner. Late that night he texted me saying he wished we talked more. I didn't text back. Because I don't share the feeling.

Today, 6 days later, he posted this message on my facebook wall:
i love our long loving conversations and how we try and return each others calls and text messages. it makes me so happy that we can be so close... and yet so far away. your loving little brother.

I will not be undone by this.

I haven't decided whether or not I will respond, much less what I would say if I did. My initial reaction was to delete it and send him a message calling him a jackass. Then I thought I would compose a thoughtful response full of sisterly advice. But now I think I'll just ignore him. It's easier.

Because it's easier, I worry that I'm taking the easy way out. That I should try, keep trying, keep pushing for him to change. I'm so tired. I've physically and mentally had enough-- my father has depression, my older brother has depression, and my little brother must be manic depressive. I've fought this my whole 28 years on earth, and I don't believe he's worth saving anymore. That's what's so upsetting about this-- I feel myself giving up. And I don't even have enough strength to care that I'm giving up.

Grateful Thursday, one year older

I'm now officially 28. Not too sure how I feel about that. I know anyone out there reading this who's older than me is thinking "what a young'n to be worrying about her age." But I find myself having passed another year entirely too quickly, with 30 sneaking up on me, remembering what it was like to be 18 and thinking about how old 28 is, and now I'm here, in the blink of an eye. Which only leads me to thinking I'll be 38 and then 48, etc., before I know it too. But I can't stop it, so I might as well embrace the things that are good about getting older and that make it easier. Hence my grateful list for the day.

1) Friends-- good, true friends, who know who I am and love me for it. When I was younger and unsure of myself, always second guessing my personality, it was hard to make and keep true friends, the kind that stick with you over the years. But yesterday getting calls and emails from friends far away, and then looking around the dinner table last night, I felt a sense of warmth that these people love me and wanted to celebrate with me-- not because they felt some requirement or because their moms drove them there and pushed them through the door or because there would be booze served, but because they wanted to. And I love each of them just as much and am grateful for having all of them in my life.

2) My husband, who makes getting older fun. We joke about how we're already an old married couple and talk to each other like we're 75. Driving around town yesterday, he was taking me to get my haircut, and I pointed in the direction of his next turn to remind him-- something I just do subconsciously because he misses turns sometimes. He looked at me and said "Woman, I've lived here 32 years, I know where I'm going." And we both laughed because he sounded like a little old man with a cane talking to his gray-haired wife. He took me to lunch, got me a cake, two presents, and then organized a dinner for me last night that was so special. He takes such good care of me and I wouldn't trade him for anything, not even eternal youth.

3) My job. Even though it's stressful some days (as I was leaving the house this morning, the last thing I told my husband was that it is a "kicking ass and taking names day" because of something that got messed up yesterday), I'm grateful for my awesome coworkers, who got me cupcakes, for my boss, who sent me the sweetest email last night, and for having a job that I don't dread coming to every day where I'm sincerely respected, appreciated, and liked.

4) Finding wisdom and courage as I age. I touched on this earlier, but this alone is enough to make me grateful for getting older. With every day that passes, I feel like I become more of myself, more sure of who I am, and more able to trust my instincts and inner voice. This gives me more confidence to stand up for myself and what I believe in, but it also allows me to find grace when I have been wrong about something and the knowledge to realize when it's time to back down or step aside.

5) Life. Just life in general. I got teary on the way home from dinner last night thinking about all the ways in which I'm blessed, from my house, to my dog, to my parents, my husband, my friends, my coworkers, my intelligence... even making it to 28 and actually truly liking who I am is something for which to be grateful. No matter what goes wrong, the core of who I am and what I want my life to be can't be shaken, because I know life isn't about living through a series of events and surviving, but about making sure my reactions to these events lead me to the outcome that I want, and that I always remain positive in the face of negativity, worry, and despair. Every day I live and breathe in this life is a blessing to me, and all I can hope for is that everyone else finds the inner peace that this realization brings.

so what if it's Friday... I'm still Grateful

So I missed Thursday. I'm not sure where it went. I'm sure it existed, at some point in some place, because sure enough it's Friday now and not perpetually Wednesday. But I don't remember it passing-- it must have whizzed by me like an 8-year-old boy on a ten speed bike on a sunny April afternoon.

Yes, here we are at Friday. I woke up in a very grateful mood. First thought that crossed my mind as my eyes opened to face my ceiling and my spinning fan? Friday.... It's gone pretty swiftly downhill since then. I couldn't make up my mind what to take for lunch and was a bit late for work. Emily has been depressing all day. She even slammed her phone down at one point. Usually this kind of thing wouldn't bother me, but she's directly across the hall from me, so I see her and her poutyness every time I glance up from this screen.

She left early. I told her to go home. We're going to get margaritas tomorrow night probably, and she'll be back to her old self. She just needed a break. I emailed Gary and told him if they didn't work out their communication issues I was going to kill both of them. Strangulation, in case he was interested.

But anyway...

1) Friday...

2) A response to my email to Gary, already. Wasn't what I wanted him to say, but at least it was a response.

3) I don't have to think about work for two days. I don't have to think about anything for two days. I have no plans and I love that I have no plans.

4) Rain, to wash away the pollen, grow my vegetables, make my flowers stand tall, and make the earth greener.

5) My birthday coming up next week and people to celebrate with. In sharp contrast to last year, when everyone was too busy, this year we had to make reservations for 12, and at one of my favorite restaurants on their tapas night, no less. It makes me feel very, very blessed.

stuck in the middle

You all are such good advice-givers, I thought I'd run another one by you. There's also an update on yesterday's situation at the bottom.

There's a lot of back story here I could get into, but I won't. I'll sum it up: Gary, my boss, hired his best friend (and now my friend) Emily, as his second employee to help him run his business two years ago. I was next about 3 months later, a stranger to both of them, but now a friend as well. They never learned how to communicate as anything other than friends, which at first was fine, but now that there are close to 20 of us in the office, and stress has been through the roof lately, it causes problems. And I'm smack-dab in the middle of them, both as HR and as their mutual friend.

Emily says Gary takes her for granted, and Gary says Emily doesn't follow all the steps and rules that she should. Emily thinks Gary doesn't listen to her, doesn't believe her, and dismisses her too often, but Gary thinks that Emily should open her ears and listen to all the instructions and not take everything so personally.

They're both flighty as hell, late everywhere they go, change their plans on the fly, and have a great time together socially. But in the work environment, unless they're creatively problem-solving something together, with no time constraints, or budget for that matter (when does this ever happen? never), they can't seem to communicate.

And I've found myself in the middle. Here's the current problem: Gary needed to go visit a client, and being Gary, he waited til the end of last week to plan the trip for this week. Emily was already at a client's office last week so the plans for this week were made without her input. Gary assumed Emily would go, but she had already made plans for the week including follow-up meetings with the client she was just with and putting together an ad that we need to submit by Friday. So she did not go. There was talk on Monday, just before Gary left, of Emily flying out Wednesday. She agreed to this, but Gary and Emily got in a fight later that day because he promised to help her with a document for a client but ran out of time because of other meetings. Somewhat in retaliation, it seems to Emily, Gary hasn't called Emily since. Gary's assistant sent him an email yesterday to ask what travel plans had been made for Emily but got no response. This morning, Emily texted Gary's partner, Wade, who's with Gary, (why not text Gary himself... well Emily believes she's getting the silent treatment, so she's giving it back) to say "I'm pretty sure I'm not going to the client's office, but some notice would have been nice." She received a text back that said "I'm pretty sure you are going next week." Emily is now up-in-arms thinking that Gary, again, is making travel plans for her without consulting her. And she's still waiting for help on that same document.

I was tired of hearing it, and I needed an answer on something else from Gary as well, so I sent him a pretty stern email about how he needed to make more time for us when he's out of the office because we can't function for long without at least some input. He finally called the office, a little sheepishly, and is being passed around on the phone now. Emily's turn, and she's being pretty short with him. "Yes," "no," and "okays" with small explanations in between. Not rude, but maybe a little curt-- not her normal self. But at least she's getting the answers she needed to her questions. One problem solved.

I have no idea how to get them to better communicate. They're teaching each other how to treat each other, playing "silent treatment" games, like little kids. They went to lunch one day last week to try to hash it out, and they came up with a safe word one is supposed to say to the other if one starts to feel they're slipping back into bad habits. We can see how well that's going.

Most of the time it's ok, there are just flare-ups. It's definitely worse when Gary is gone because his scarce free time is even more hard to get.

Emily and I just made a run to Sonic. A cocktail would have been better, but milkshakes will work in a pinch. She felt better after her call with him-- all she needed were a few answers, and he was nice to her. Simple, but it solved it. I'm still trying to figure out either a) how to get out of the middle without pissing either of them off and still being their friend or b) how to get them to better communicate, which is what I really want because it would improve our company too. Any words of wisdom?

Update on yesterday's post:
I let it go. For now. I'm doing exit interviews next week for all of them, and I plan on bringing up his absences then. He just submitted his self-review form to me and on it it states that he'd like to continue to work for us until he graduates in December... apparently he missed a couple classes that he didn't realize until a couple weeks ago. Bummer for him. So I'm going to have to both let him down easy, as we don't want to keep him on, and try to teach him a lesson at the same time. Fun for me. I'm chalking it up as a learning experience, and that's made me glad for it.

liar, liar...

So I'm 99% sure an employee (an intern) lied to me yesterday.

I'll preface this by saying I don't like this kid, Jim. He showed some promise at first, but after getting to know him, the "I'm a rich guy, I'm awesome, everyone loves me, listen to this awesome story about this time I was so hammered" attitude didn't fade away like I had hoped, and other employees have started to notice it as well. So as soon as his internship is officially over next Friday, we aren't planning on hiring him on full-time, just sending him on his merry way with his (tactful if unenthusiastic) letter of reference.

He's called in either sick or late a few times since he started in February, once I know for a bachelor party in New Orleans that took up more of his weekend than he thought it would, and a couple weeks later for that bachelor's wedding and a long trip back. I chalked it up to inexperience and immaturity, and again since we aren't planning to keep him on, I shrugged my shoulders.

As I posted yesterday, there were baseball games in town all weekend. When leaving the game on Sunday afternoon, on a high from our come-back win, my husband and I were gliding across a field to our car when a few douche-baggy drunk boys about 10 feet in front of us started hooting and hollering. I thought, "Hey, that one douche-bag looks a lot like Jim," and then, after he turned around to yell (and slur) something at a friend, I confirmed that it was him. No big deal, it was Sunday, and I don't really care. He didn't see me, and we went on to our car.

Jim didn't come in for work as usual yesterday morning. I wasn't going to chase him down-- it's his internship after all. I just made a mental note of it and thought about how I could get out of writing him a letter of recommendation at all. At about 4:45 pm he called me and asked if I had gotten his email, which of course I hadn't. After mumbling something about there being something wrong with his email account, he told me he had been in his hometown (about 2 hours away) this weekend as his dad was in the hospital again, and he didn't get back in time for work today.

So I was faced with a dilemma. Confront him right then and there? Or play it off and try to gather more intel? I played it off. After I got off the phone, I called his direct manager to ask him to try to get some information from the other interns. Two of them saw him at a bar on the town square Friday night, but no one knew anything other than that. Turns out, they don't like him much either and aren't social with him.

There's a chance he got called home Sunday night after the game (I saw him about 5 pm). But there's a bigger chance, given his history, that he partied it up a little too hard and needed an excuse. Karma will bite him in the butt, eventually, sure, and I hope it doesn't take his father to the hospital with it. But I'm unsure how to address this with him.

He doesn't work on Tuesdays. Tomorrow I think I'm going to casually ask him about his dad and try to gather when exactly he went to his hometown. If he says "all weekend" or pretty much anything other than "just Sunday night to Monday," I know I'll have him. But what do I do with him when I have him? He still has a project to finish. But I don't abide liars. I'll probably ask him to leave.

What would you do, how would you handle this? How do you handle liars in general?