Fast and Hot

Tomorrow we're driving down to Norwalk, Ohio to see the NHRA drivers crash and burn go really fast. Mr. Hot is so freakin' excited. He loves him some drag-racing. Since I'm the wonderful wife, I love that he's so excited. I just hope he'll drive and I can read for the trip down there. I think it's about 2 hours....through Ohio. (Sorry Ohioans, I know that there's some really nice places in the state, but this is the turnpike. Yawwwnwnnnnwnn.)

There are some hotties that drive now. Ashley Force is 23 - and beats her old man on a regular basis. Gotta love it.

---

Sad though, that we have 3 tickets and Shortman won't be back from Sis's in time to go with us. Mr. Hot wasn't paying attention when he impetuously decided that we really needed to go see 'drag racin'. And I really miss my Shortman. Even though he's in the throes of being 15, and rarely is seen away from the computer or with his ass hanging out of the refrigerator looking for something to eat, he's still around if I wanna hug. Or some 'ttude. He's really good at that 'ttude thing. It's just that at 15? How much longer am I going to have him around ignoring me?

It's beautiful here today. And I'm having a bit of blogger's block, so here are some pictures of the fuzzy ones.

---- More on Monday. ----

The Hatchet Woman

Okay, so I shouldn't have had the ENTIRE bottle of wine last night. (oops). I felt fine when I woke up at 6 a.m. - hustled my ass to work, and started reading emails. Now....4 hours later.....the raging headache from an ENTIRE bottle of Pinot Grigio? Not nice.

Not nice at-fucking-all.

And the tension around here is palpable. We all know another restructuring is on the horizon. In the past 4 months, major players have been walked out the door. We all know more layoffs are on the way. People are hoarding boxes to clear out their desks. Collecting personal email addresses from friends. Blood pressures are hitting the boiling point. I'd love to see the number of prescriptions being filled for Xanax or Valium. (Remember when Quaaludes were the mind-numbing drug of choice? Or, am I showing my age again? Sigh.)

Twice I've been the one who has had to give notice to people who were being "made redundant". Kind of an interesting way to word it eh? The first time, I spoke to over 25 people in a 6-hour period. I went home that night and downed a very cheap bottle of champagne that I had bought for Mr. Hot as a joke Valentine's Day present. Never felt buzzed. The adrenaline that coursed through my body prevented any of the alcohol from being absorbed. I'm convinced. What a freaking. shame. waste. of. a. bottle. of. bubbly.

Reactions of the people I spoke with that day? Mixed bag. Some of them handled it philosophically and told me that they were secretly relieved. They felt they'd become stagnant, but needed someone to light a fire under their ass to get them to find something new. Others felt worse for me (and they apologized TO ME(!) for the fact that I had to do this horrible thing). And yet others? Completely taken off guard.

The latest go around, I only had 4 or 5 discussions to worry about. That day was weird city. The people who were let go went dancing happily out of my office. The ones that were told that they needed to stay and participate in the divestiture? Oh my holy shit - they were pissed! Y'know, there's just no pleasing some people. But hey, I'm sure that I'm now known at the Hatchet Woman. I always wanted a nickname other than "Bitch".

Right now, everyone is in waiting mode. Waiting for the next ax to fall. Wondering if the person you're sitting next to today is going to be around tomorrow. Obviously morale is NOT at its peak. Oh, and mid-year performance reviews must be completed. Yea, that's gonna be fun.

Yesterday, my sister called me for some advice. She's in her first Supervisor-type job. She was told she needed to fire 2 non-performers.

Her: "What should I do? I've never had to fire anyone before!"
Me: "Make sure there's a large desk between the two of you, keep tissue nearby and make sure that there's someone standing by listening for screams."
Her: "Oh. [pause] No. [pause] Shit."

---- Hey, it's her problem she doesn't drink. ----

The Tao of Three

I am the oldest of three children. Girl, Boy, Girl. Shortman is the youngest of three (although he's an 'only' on a daily basis, with the NYO and the TYO in town, there's 3). Boy, Girl, Boy.

Here are some interesting facts:

• Three is the first odd prime number.
• 3 is the only integer between e and π.
• Three is the atomic number of Lithium.
• In his later work, Freud proposed that the psyche was divided into three parts: Ego, super-ego, and id.
• There are 3 primary colors - red, blue, and yellow.
• The physical world has 3 dimensions.
• Earth is the 3rd planet from the sun.
• Genies grant 3 wishes.

Here's a personal observation:

• Three children means that it's always two against 1.

When we first moved back North, the NYO and TYO would come visit us for school holidays. I'm sure that I got most of my gray hair - at the youngish age of 32 - from one of these visits.

They started playing a game called "Sticks". People? "Sticks" rules? Um, throwing sticks at someone. Actually, 2 (surprise, surprise) of them throwing sticks at the other 1. Sometimes the boys against the girl. Sometimes the oldest 2 against the youngest. How much fun is that? Well, obviously, it's great fun when you're the thrower and not the throweeeeeeee. (The eeee is the sound that that participant makes when the stick actually makes contact with the facial area, especially when blood is drawn).

And then there were the multiple times when all 3 would leave on bikes for the park - and 2 would return. Either their dad or I would take off to go look for the missing kid - while the other would be stuck with the disciplinary hearings going on in the living room. Said discipline (especially if it was the two oldest who only visited once/year and it was their dad, not the evil stepmother who was doing the discipline) lasted approximately 2 minutes, 38 seconds. And it was always fun when Mr. Hot or I would find the missing #3 - once Shortman was actually tied to a tree.

And don't get me started on the times we took them to the pool. That's the TYO behind the wall of water.

I know of what I speak - being 1/3 of my own threesome. And things don't change when you get older. Although I was pretty much a loner who was more than happy to sit with a book or a drawing pad (alone!), when my brother and sister and I were forced to interact (Momanddad didn't learn the lesson of 3), we (or they) were more than happy to pair off and alienate the shit out of the other one. 32 years later - it's still so. Although sticks aren't usually involved, there's the "secret-keeping-dyad" - she and I know something he doesn't, or the two of them have a pact that I'm not a part of. At least, when you get to be 44, 42 and 38 respectively, the physical injuries are nearly non-existent!

---- But the mental games can be really fun. I think I'll send Bro and Sis this article. I've been telling them this for years. So there! And I'm the favorite, too! ----

Ethiopian Cuisine is delicious and healthy!

With Shortman away this week, ("Mom, can you believe they went through my suitcase because Grandma put the baby's bat in it?"), Mr. Hot and I have free run of the house. A large part of our alone time so far has been spent discussing what to eat for dinner. Shortman's idea of dinner? Pizza. Turkey burgers. Pizza. Chicken Noodle Soup (yes, even when it's 90 degrees outside). Pizza.

Okay, so he is 15. And Male.

So, while Mr. Hot and I were debating what ethnic group to sample tonight (Ethiopian anyone?), I started thinking about diversity. I'm considered "diverse". Because I'm a female executive. I'm also Lebanese + Polish. I'm a Secular Humanist. I'm a Democrat. I have green eyes. I have two college degrees. I'm a step-mother.

We live within 5 miles of a very diverse city - Ann Arbor, Michigan. Home of the University of Michigan. Our town, however, is very different:

White 7,688 95.7%
African-American 45 0.6%
Asian 156 1.9%
American Indian & Alaskan 26 0.3%
Other 26 0.3%
Mixed Race 89 1.1%

Hmmmmm. Maybe it's my frequent trips to Chicago that have blinded me to my own backyard. Or our forays into Ann Arbor. We shop in Ypsilanti - a town that is much more racially mixed. Diversity surrounds us - just not within the tax base I bought into.

I'm not really sure how I feel about this. I know that within our own family, Shortman is exposed to a wide variety of cultures, religions and lifestyles - so it's not him that I'm worried about. But we're at a turning point in the U.S. Will we elect a woman? How about an African-American? What happens if and when the Democrats nominate Clinton/Obama or Obama/Clinton? Will they have a chance against the white, WASP-y Republican candidates?

Things like this make my head and my heart hurt. I'm not sure that school yearbooks are the place to display kissing period. But if they're going to, then they damn well better treat everyone equally. Maybe articles like this will be fewer and further between.

So, as much as I'd like to be funny today, my mind is wandering to the things that surround me that are not quite so funny. Sorry about that. But acceptance of others, tolerance and forgiveness are the things I'm thinking about today.

---- And no, people, Pizza doesn't qualify as ethnic! Nice try though. ----

I would like to thank Bartcop for the new readers. I'm not normally this cerebral folks ... if you browse around you'll see that I have many facets that are much less emotionally draining ....

A Brush with Strangeness

Mr. Hot and I just got back from seeing this movie. It is truly vintage Stephen King. I've always been a huge fan, although my tastes tend to run more to "The Stand" and "Carrie" than those stories with true ghosties. It's his ability to show the movement from utterly sane to completely fucking insane - using words. What a gift.

There was one time, and one time only, that I came close to believing that something truly weird was happening that couldn't be explained rationally. I still don't know what the explanation is/was, but time has provided the distance so that I no longer sit and ponder it. Nor do I have to ask people what they think happened - but after today's screening, I think I'll go ahead and scribe it for posterity.

This is a true story. It did happen. I have witnesses. Of course, they're probably laughing too hard to actually repeat it.

---

Sometime around early November, 2003, I was working on a training program for
our organization. It was a course on processes and procedures that needed to be
completed by all of the new "application support specialists" who were hired to
report to me and my two cohorts. We were spending a lot of time working directly
with our training director, Michelle.

Michelle and I needed to coordinate the schedules to accomodate 185 people, in 4 different states, so we were working closely together and on the phone to each other constantly. As usual though, there were times when those calls came at an inopportune time and went to our friend, Voicemail. Generally, the messages went something like this - "Hey, listen, it's me. I'll buy you an Appletini if we can start that class at 9:00 a.m. instead of 8:00 a.m. because I've got to meet with so-and-so at 7:30 and there's no way I can face that and then 30 people without a cup of coffee or
12."

or

"Okay, so I can't make the 5:45 flight out of New York to get to Detroit the night before, so if we can move the class to the next day, I promise I'll take you out for Margaritas after." (Yes, there were lots of bribes that were paid off, not in greenbacks, but green liquor.)

Anyway, message that Voicemail passed along garnered a return call while I was out of the office running an errand - I think I was picking up missing ingredients for Thanksgiving dinner - just as a reference to the timing here. As I answered my cell, Michelle greeted me with "So, didn't you get my page? I paged you earlier to talk about the Troy class." This was, by the way, pre-Blackberry and I still had my old two-way pager and a separate cell phone. I apologized; we worked everything out (while I was, undoubtedly adding another bottle of wine to my cart and sampling the cheese cubes put out by the deli) and went on our merry ways. The call was about the shipment of the binders we were going to use to house the multitude of very boring important things that needed to be taught.

Binders that never showed up at the office. That fell into a deep, dark, black hole apparently, as the shipper claims they were sent, but no record of them having been delivered, signed for, accepted. (do do do do - think theme from Twilight Zone, it's a little hard to come across through this browser)

Several months later (March? April? around Easter, 2004), long after the classes were completed, and the binders forgotten, I walked into my cubicle and there sat a
huge box. I opened it up, and there were the freakin binders. Immediately, I picked up my phone and called Michelle. She was out of the office. I told her voicemail - "Call me. I'll buy you a cosmopolitan if you can figure out what just showed up at my desk." Since she was on vacation I didn't figure I'd hear from her for a while, but we'd have a laugh.

That night, I was sound asleep, and my pager went off. I grabbed it off the nightstand and blearily tried to read it. I tried again with glasses this time. Heck, it was 3 am, and I can barely see during daylight hours.

This was the message. "Call me when you get a chance. Michelle." And, it was dated Nov 26, 2003. FIVE months earlier. When she had called me to discuss the ordering of the binders. The binders that finally showed up that day.

---

So, that was my brief and only experience with the supernatural. Except: This Post? When I said that they moved my room? I found that little folder that they give you with your key in it. When you check in? Okay. This is the picture I took of it for you. Seriously. Spooky.

---- I'm not rethinking my non-belief in the supernatural, but I can't pretend that I am really, really, glad that the 14th floor isn't a smoking floor. ----

Sunday Snippets

Sending Shortman off tomorrow morning for a week with his Grandmother and Aunt and cousins in Virginia. I'm really going to miss him, but I won't miss him waking up Mr. Hot when he finally drags his ass to bed at 3 a.m. Fifteen-year-old boys, computer games and cable tv are not good when a stiff breeze can wake you up. Me, on the other hand, I can sleep through anything. And often do. Phone calls, alarm clocks, Mr. Hot groping. Sometimes it's not a good thing I guess.


I want to go see Sicko. Universal health care is an important platform for next year's elections. I need to pay attention to that in the coming months. My boss's situation has made me even more aware of exactly what we face. Becoming ill shouldn't mean a death sentence to those people who don't have or can't afford health insurance.


Went to a breakfast buffet this morning. All you can eat bulk scrambled eggs. Ugh. Then we went to look at cars - my lease is up in August, and it's time to start planning. With gas over $3.00/gallon, and only going in one direction, it's time to think about moving to a much smaller car than the Magnum. But the E85 tags on the new models worry me, too. What happens to the price of food when farmers start seeing that they can sell corn for fuel instead of food? Another thing to research more.

I've added a few more links to my blogroll. ----> See, over there? Visit some of these ladies. They're very funny, and they make you think.

There is nothing better than a nice hot shower. Okay, so that may just be my opinion, but Mr. Hot knows that I am pretty much non-functioning until I've had my shower for the day. Sometimes it doesn't come along until afternoon on the weekends, but nothing makes me feel better.

I had someone search for "Drove too soon on my new driveway" and end up on my site. How cool is that? Also, "Can you get arthritis in your elbow?". I guess they found this and this.

---- Yesterday was Momanddad's 45th wedding anniversary. Cheers, to everlasting love. ----

Resuming a Resume

I've got to do it. I know that. Somehow, I simply have to break down and write my resume. But the last time I did that was 15 years ago. Seriously. 15. years. ago. So I got to thinking about all of the things that I've done:

---

Babysitting - starting when I was 12. You had to be 12. It was like a law or something.

---

Parks and Recreation Leader - I was 16. The youngest leader that they'd ever hired. The town I lived in had been farmland and had just started the subdivision boom. It was 1979. There were all of these little parks in the subdivisions. Some had playsets and sandboxes and baseball fields. We got arts 'n craft supplies. We even got to take field trips. Other than the cost of some of the field trips, it was pretty much free daycare for many of the parents. The kids showed up in the morning, (some even brought their lunch, or glommed off my partner and me).

Honestly, what could the township leaders have been thinking when they put 17 year olds out there with any number of juvenile delinquent-wannabes? We drove ancient vans to field trip locations (Wave pools, the Zoo, State parks) up to 40 or 50 miles away. That could never happen today. Surely Susie or Johnny would scrape their knee and their parents would sue for millions of dollars of damages and the program would be shut down.

I worked for Parks & Rec for 4 years. All the way through High School and my freshman year in college.

I remember one day, when I got one of the BIG parks (it had TWO playsets, and grills that we could use, and a softball field, and running water!). We decided to have a water fight. We brought the balloons and supplied a hose. We bought hot dogs and everything necessary to have a big cookout.

I went into the porta-john to change into my bathing suit. (I can tell you, I had the best tan ever those 4 years). Next thing I know, the potty is shaking. rocking. I'm holding onto the walls and trying to unlock the door, and screaming at the top of my lungs, and I'm hearing all of these shrieking evil laughs from those hellions. My partner had gone over to the other side of the park (this was a biiiiigggg park - it spanned a mile wide area) to get the charcoal and stuff out of the storage area. They were trying to fucking tip me over. In a Porta-John. That they had all used. Minions. of. Satan.

Jill finally got back and threatened to cancel all of the festivities. "DON'T MAKE ME THROW AWAY THESE HOTDOGS. DON'T MAKE US PUT THE HOSE BACK. DON'T MAKE ME TURN THIS CAR AROUND!"

Makes me shudder every time I have to use the outhouse at Shortman's baseball games.

---

Veterinary Assistant: When I wasn't being the target of the neighborhood hellborns' antics, I worked after school in a local Vet's office. Since I was planning to go to Veterinary School, I needed this job. Everything in this office was stainless steel. It was my job (in addition to the normal front-office stuff) to scrub everything in the office every day. With non-scratching cleanser. Softscrub. The. Whole. Entire. Office. I had the cleanest hands - you could have eaten off my hands!

When the Vet decided he needed someone to work during school hours and could only afford one of us, I was let go. It was the first time I ever lost a job. (But it won't be the last as we all know).

---

Teller: My first foray into the banking world. I hated every second of it. I was 21 - and had NO patience. If the customer yelled at me, I yelled back. The only reason I didn't get my ass fired was because my mother was the City Treasurer, and my Dad was a Police Lieutenent in the same city. I left when I got married and swore "With God as my witness, I will never work in banking again!"

---

Human Resources (Multiple positions including Payroll Coordinator, Benefits Specialist and Trainer): In. A. Bank. (See above...this was a mere 4 months later....so much for that vow) I worked for the absolute worst boss I ever had - and the last woman I ever worked for. She hated me. I had a college degree and knew Lotus 1-2-3! And she cried when I resigned. (What? Who was going to cover her ass when her boss tried to get her to do something on the p.c. instead of the IBM Selectric?)

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College Instructor: I taught Computer Science 101. It paid for my tuition those semesters - when I went back to school after my divorce. I used to give extra credit to anyone who would come find me at Basketball games. I carried huge piles of 3.5" floppies in my backpack. I discovered I hated grading homework and giving tests. No one failed my class. I taught the guy who would eventually kick the field goal that won us the 1AA Football Championship in 1992. THAT was the era "We Are! Marshall!" started, not 1970.

---

---- And that led me to where I am today. My current career started in 1992. 15. years. ago. God Help Me. I have GOT to start that resume. But I can't seem to decide what I want to be when I grow up. ----

A New Perspective

I came to Chicago this week with 3 very important discussions scheduled on my calendar.

In order, the first was with the President of our company, next was one of my matrixed bosses, and the last was with my direct function boss. The intent was to discuss what I would be doing after my current role (managing the contractual obligations on behalf of the seller/current employer for the buyer/not now & never will be employer).

It has been made very clear that my job has a specific end date. It's almost like being a contractor - "finish this and then go away". But Shortman has two years left of High School, and I don't want to worry about having to move to take a new job - at least not until he's done, and there's not a lot of opportunities around for Hotfessionals. Not at the level to which I've become accustomed.

So, I met with the big guy first. It was a very fruitful discussion which ended up with a commitment to meet monthly to discuss new opportunities. He's only 'held the throne' for a few months, so the remaining piece of the company is in a state of transition as well. He has to figure out how to structure his upper echelon, and I let him know I was more than willing to help in any way I could.

The next meeting, with Mr. Matrix, also went well from a career standpoint. Again, I outlined my strengths and how I could assist in his new role. I was very professional, very much the career woman, optimistic and confident - and to a point, selfish. While I talked about how I could fit into the new organization, I focused on how my needs (stay in Michigan, stay with this company) could be met while helping the company. But again, I got a commitment that we would continue to meet on a regular basis and he would help me to 'path my career' to these goals. (Don't you hate the lingo du jour? 'path your career' my ass.)

Then, I went into a meeting with my actual direct line manager.

(As a sidenote, this guy has a reputation of being a blustering, egomaniacal dickhead. I cringe in some of our staff meetings at his complete disregard for people's feelings. When he disagrees with you, or you haven't performed to his expectations, he doesn't care who else is in the room. You're dead meat.)

After getting a couple of administrative-type details out of the way (y'know, signatures, staff stuff, etc.), we again started talking about my longer-term goals with the company. Reviewed the difference between having a job in the hand vs. the possibility of a job. No matter the money or prestige involved. And then he got me:

Him: "You know, when this restructuring all got started, I
realized that I needed to sit down and figure out exactly how long I could get
by if I lost my job and couldn't find anything. You know when you have a sick
wife, you need to make sure that you've got enough health insurance to take care
of things."

Me: "I'm sorry to hear your wife is sick."

Him: "She has breast cancer. It was found after she was at
Stage 4, and had mestastisized to her bones. There were tumors in 3 of her
vertebrae."

Me: (Staring at him with wide eyes) "Oh my. What's her
course of treatment?"

Him: "She's in remission now, but at Easter, we were afraid
it had come back into her chest or lungs. Then they thought that chemo had
caused heart problems, but all of the tests came back negative."

He talked about his wife, and how they broke the news to their daughter, and how now the medication that she's on makes her so tired that neither one of them can remember the last time they went to the movies or out to dinner. He talked about how, when cancer is part of your life, it's the first thing you think of when you wake up, and the last thing you think of before you go to bed. And as he talked, he had tears in his eyes, and he talked about how other people, his friends, had lost wives to this disease. And then he got me again:

Him: "And I sat down, and figured out how long we could last without
health insurance if I didn't have it, and I wrote out my savings account, and my
investments, and my retirement plans, and my car, and my house, and how long
that would last at $21,000/week for chemo treatments, and decided, that I didn't
really care. I'd give it all up to keep someone alive."

And I didn't know what to say at that point. I mumbled something about how she would be in my thoughts and prayers, we finished the conversation and I left.

---- So now, I have a new perspective. ----

Fiascos and Festivities

Well, actually, it started last night. Went to check into the hotel. Verified with the barely-speaks-English desk clerk that the room she gave me was a smoking room (people - just don't go there. don't do it. )

As I was walking away, I decided that I needed to verify - I mean honestly, I stay at this hotel every month and can't ever remember being on the 14th floor. I stopped another desk clerk and said to her:

"Can you verify that smoking is allowed on the 14th floor?" She said,

"Um. Yes. 14th, 12th, and 3rd."

Alright then. I guess it's just strange that I never got a room on 14. I make my way merrily to the elevator. I get off the elevator. I look at the sign that says:

NO SMOKING

It doesn't register.

I go into my room.

On the desk, where I normally find an ashtry and a book of matches (since you can't fly with lighters anymore, I really rely on these....), there is a sign that says:

NO SMOKING

Hm. Walk to the phone. Dial front desk.

"Excuse me. This is The Hotfessional. I just checked in. I was told that my room was a smoking room. I'm on 14, and there's signs all over the room that say: NO SMOKING."

"Um. Yes ma'am. Just a moment."

So, I wait. On hold. Then this:

"Ma'am, we're moving you to 1208. A bellman will meet you there with a key."

---- So, how sad is that? Either I travel too much, or the Crowne Plaza really needs my help. ----

The Manager's Dinner is tonight. We're leaving early enough to sit outside (hopefully), since it's 85 and beeee-yooo-teeee-full in Chicago. I'm sure there will be stories to tell.

Coincidentally, we found out that a group of ex-employees have a networking group that is ALSO meeting there tonight. We may just end up taking over the riverfront.

---- Let's assume that one of the stories for tomorrow will end: 'And then they toppled off into the Chicago River'. ----

I Hate What I'm Wearing Today

I like the pieces individually, but I don't like how I put it together. I guess part of the problem is that 5 minutes before the driver came (5:45 a.m.) to get me to the aiport for this morning's fun, I decided that I was too bloated (damn pre-menopause systems) to wear the pants that I had laid out. I'm wearing a black cowl-neck shell, black rayon pants (lined - and they're not my favorite), and a peachy/pink hip-length cardigan. I guess being in them for nearly 12 hours (high heels included) doesn't help any.

I'm hoping, that before we head over to this retirement party, that I'll be able to go check into the hotel and clean up some. Y'know when you're just NOT comfortable and feel like crap. That's me today.

So, I was perusing the New York Times business session, and found this article. Since I've already admitted to being a Kohl's whore, this obviously caught my eye. One of my favorite lines:

She says that “$3,000 is the new $1,000, and $6,000 is the new $3,000,” adding:
“Actually, maybe $10,000 is the new $3,000. The truth of it is, it can be very
frustrating when you have built up some degree of a name in this country and not
be able to dress more people.”

I've never paid $1000 for any article of clothing in my entire life. Even for my wedding dress. Probably the most expensive item in my closet, other than that dress, is an Ann Taylor watermelon colored suede blazer. Which I love. Which I hardly ever wear because it cost, like, $169.00. On Sale. At the end of the Season.

---- Well, my reprieve from today's fashion "arghhghghghg I hate this" moment just came. The execu-males are going to be ready to leave for dinner late enough for me to run over to the hotel and do a little repair. I must have known. I actually packed for 4 days knowing I was only going to be here 3. ----

More Randomness and Monday Moaning.

The Randomness

• New sandals. Pretty pedicure (well, at least my toes aren't mangled anymore since I gave up playing soccer in April 2006). A new skirt. My little shopping trip on Saturday was very fruitful, thank you very much. And I'll just ignore the fact that Mr. Hot suggested using landscape instead of profile to shoot a picture of my size-10 foot. Dickhead.

• Drove on the new driveway for the first time last night. To park the VERY filthy car (when you park on a dirt road, you get a dirt car) in the garage. Shortman got the honors of actually making the first (did I mention dirty?) tracks on that beautiful expanse of asphalt. The basketball hoop went back in place, too. Yay. Garage parking. Clean car.

• I love my Samsung YPZ-5 mp3 player. I love Yahoo Jukebox plus. Together they are magic for plane rides and train rides and crappy cab rides during Chicago rush hour.



• My flowers are blooming like crazy.

The Moaning

• Remember this? The one where I rhapsodize over the wonderful weekend with Mr. Hot's kids? The one where I said we really felt like a family? Once again, I am a fucking fool. Neither of them thought to call or write to him for Father's Day. I really believed that after the TYO pledged that he wanted a relationship and was going to try to make it work, that the least he would do is email or call. On Father's Day. I guess my faith was misplaced.



• Back to Chicago tomorrow. After I packed up my office last month, waiting for them to find me someplace new to sit, I got a call saying that my phone would be hooked up for tomorrow's visit. In the "visitor's office". Which is a closet - in the hallway. Ooooh, wheeee.

---- Well, packing would be my last moaning. I guess thinking about the empty promises of 2 young adults has overshadowed any other things I'm facing today. But I really, really hate packing. ----

Father's Day 2007 -

I married my Dad. Well, not really (of course) , but the similarities between these two wonderful men are scary, people. Even they've noticed it. But what can you say? They both love me (and even weirder - they both understand me).

My father was a cop for 32 years. ...After serving in the Marine Corps in Okinawa. He didn't see me until I was 6 months old - his older daughter. But man, oh man, did he get pictures. Mom and I lived with my grandparents while he was gone. My Aunt and Uncle lived there as well. There were photographers falling over themselves to get more and more shots to send overseas.

When he returned, I peed on him. (Well, that's the story he tells anyway). I was also obviously his daughter - I have the nose to prove it - but I'll always be someone that he doesn't quite understand - or maybe he understands better than I'll ever know.

I did well at school, focusing on Math and Science, because these were important subjects to him. When I left for college, with plans to become a Veterinarian, he was cheering me on. When I came home after Freshman year - with grades that proved just how much FUN college was (it was so not a pretty sight you all) - he got tough. When he found out that I came home that summer as a (ehem) non-virginal daughter, he stopped speaking to me - and made sure that I had no money to go back to school.

I disappointed him several times that next year. After selling my horse to buy a car, getting a job, and returning to school locally, he found out that I hadn't given up that boyfriend and was seeing him on the sly. (Hey, don't tell me I can't.) When I tried to move out to go live with a girlfriend, he got out an ax and threatened to slice the tires on my car. (He would have done it, too.)

So, he watched and waited with me while I grew up. He stopped telling me I couldn't go out with the virginity-taking boyfriend. He stood with me at the end of the aisle in the church, trying to make me laugh (this Muslim father, standing in a Catholic church, telling his oldest daughter "Remember, when you get to the end where that guy on the cross has his arms out? He's telling you, "Stop". That's where you need to stop.").

He watched me move South with that boyfriend who was now my husband. He visited. And when that marriage crumbled and I moved out, and got divorced, he never said "I told you so." He held his tongue when I told him that I only married the boyfriend because he told me I couldn't.

He watched while I went back to school again for another degree. He watched when I met Mr. Hot - that southern boy charm won me over - and when I became pregnant with Shortman, he came visit. When Mr. Hot and I got married, he was the first one to call me by my new name. When my water broke in the middle of the night, and I called to tell him and Mom that they'd have a new grandbaby later that evening, he drove six hours - and very nearly beat us to the hospital (I needed to go shopping - there wasn't any food in the house, and contractions weren't too bad at the time).

When Shortman was born, he was in the room, and when the Dr. put that baby in my arms, my Dad was there to say a prayer into that baby's ear. Fifteen years later, my Dad is one of that baby's biggest fans.

Now, when the 3 of us get together with Dadandmom, my mother and I laugh at how much these men are alike. One in his sixties, one in his fifties, and one only 15. But they have the same insane passion for news, the same smartass know-it-all attitude, and the same unending love for family and friends. Of course, our love for them is boundless as well.

---- Happy Father's Day to you Dad, and to you Mr. Hot. I love you both more than I can ever say. ----

The Decision I Made at Noon Today

For the past 4 days, I've sat looking out this window at the beautiful sunshine, knowing that Summer ! In ! Michigan !! is finally here. From 7:30 until 5:30, I've sat here. Then, I got to go home - and here's what the last 4 evenings have meant:

• Monday: Went home, changed clothes, drove to Momanddad's house (these people, as you will learn in a future post are inseparable....therefore, they get only one name), played with one niece and four nephews visiting from Virginia, helped Momanddad get cover off of pool, crammed spaghetti and salad into mouth, drove home, watered flowers and newly planted grass, sat on porch for 20 minutes, went to bed.


• Tuesday: Went home, found out that nephew (see Monday) was coming to spend the night, changed clothes, waited for nephew to come, admired newly poured asphalt driveway, helped Mr. Hot move large piles of dirt that the men with heavy equipment left, greeted nephew, went to pick up pizza for nephew and Shortman, went to store to get drinks and snacks for nephew and Shortman, watered plants and newly planted grass, sat on porch for 20 minutes, went to bed.


• Wednesday: Went home, changed clothes, opened bill for new computer, took Shortman to baseball game, found no one at baseball field, realized coach's phone number NOT in phone, drove home, got coach's phone number, called coach, found out there is no game (but there's practice in 20 minutes), drove back to baseball field, dropped off Shortman, drove home, ate a sandwich, watered plants, drove to pick up Shortman, drove home, watered newly planted grass, sat on porch for 20 minutes, went to bed.


• Thursday: Will go home, change clothes, go to the grocery store, go to the pet store, water plants and newly planted grass, go to bed.

So, at Noon today, I decided that on Friday, I will:

• Stay at home. Like all Day. Like not show my face in the office. And Enjoy. Summer. In. Michigan.
• Find a 'Beach book', even though the only sand around will be the sand that Mr. Hot is using to level the pavers on the "Put grill here" part of the patio.
• Drink some nice summery drink that I will buy the ingredients for at the grocery store tonight.
• Give myself a new pedicure, so I can wear some new sandals that I plan on buying tonight at the shoe store next to the pet store.

---- It only lasts about 8 weeks y'all....then the doom that is Fall and Winter appear on the horizon. I am SO not a Winter Wonderland type of person. But sometimes, there are perks to being in charge. ----

Scenes from the Front

My Life as a Straight Man:

I dial in to my boss's staff meeting since I'm not onsite this week. It's kinda like walking into a "Cheers" episode - except rather than using my name, I get a lot of "Support Goddess"!!!, "XYS Queen"!!! (I managed the System Support division for years, and before that, built an application called XYS which is still in use.) Again, dumbshit me -

• Hotfessional => "I hope you all are getting t-shirts printed with those names for me to wear when I'm out of a job."
• The Rest of Them => *catcalls and wolf-whistles* "You mean otherwise you'll walk around naked after you're laid off?" "You're fired!" "Here's your 'pink slip'."

The sad thing is, I tend to do this when I'm there in person, too.

---

Heard at the Last Manager's Dinner:

• Hotfessional to rest of group => "I'm warning you all about those margaritas. Don't have more than one without eating. And even then, don't have 3. Stop at 2. Take this from someone who knows. You won't be able to stand up."
• Sr. Program Mgr. (after 3rd drink w/o food) to person he's sitting next to => "Doesn't the Hotfessional's rack look bigger?"

Which was, of course, said in that well-known, completely drunk whisper that echos through the entire restaurant.

---

Blackberry Conversation During a Different Staff Meeting:

• Ex-Boss of Hotfessional => "Do you shop at Victoria's Secret?"
• Hotfessional => "Um, yes, why?" (While wondering which piece of lingerie has somehow turned flashing neon for whole world to see)
• Ex-Boss => "I want to get my wife whatever kind of bra you're wearing - and there's a Victoria's Secret on the way home."

Are you sensing a theme here, people?

---

Oh My Gawd, Tell Me He Didn't!:

• Support Division Manager explaining the official definition of Emergency => "It's not just some client saying, "'I want my hoo-hoo, and I want it right now!'"
• Rest of Meeting Attendees => "snort, cough, giggle, snort, hack"
• Hotfessional (once again, the only woman in the room) => "I think I have to leave now."

Technically, I think I'm the only one with a hoo-hoo sitting there.

---

Sometimes, Thank Goodness, I'm NOT the Target - Or Am I?:

Scene: Four Managers are walking down the streets of Chicago (3 men, 1 woman) - 2 by 2 due to the narrowness of the sidewalk. Hotfessional and LI #1 in front, LI #2 and XLMan trailing.

• XLMan => "Y'know, LI#1, you have no ass!"

Implication being "Hotfessional, you have too much ass?"

---

---- Okay, so that last one was a scene from the back. ----

A Patriot(ic) Act(ress)

I am a political dumb-shit for the most part. Mr. Hot is a news junkie (when you're retired - you have time to read and actually digest what you're reading....) and knows everything that is going on current event-wise.

My "1/2 way through the New Year" resolution (it replaces all of those made on January 1 whch were promptly forgotten by January 15) is to actually be able to have an intelligent conversation on the subject. Especially since the 2008 Presidential Election seems to have started 24 months early. It will be a very long year if I have to continue pretending that I know what he's lecturing me on, er, venting, er, talking about. I'm just not that good at keeping the vacant look out of my eyes....sometimes the glaze happens - and then I piss him off. And I hate it when that happens. (Really, honey, I do. I don't glaze over on purpose, but it's kinda like when I wax poetical about my new Larry Levine suit, y'know?)

So now, since I can't really go into overdrive with this, I have to determine where to start. I need little bites. A nibble of news. A taste of telecast. A drop of dispatch. (Okay, y'all, did you know that 'poop' is now officially a synonym for news? - check it - What? You think I came up with those on my own? puh-leeze.)

So, my first stop is The New York Times. I do know you would consider me a liberal based on my belief system. This may be somewhat surprising considering what I do for a living, but when Mr. Hot rants, er, pontificates, er, attempts to discuss these issues with his politically ignorant and backward (but ever so Hot) wife, he refers quite often to this publication.

There's a LOT of information here. I hope my head doesn't explode. There are a few things I do know (even before I begin reading) - I just wish I didn't have to believe them:

• Hillary cannot get elected. The Yew-Nahted Stay-ets, the people who crucified her husband for getting a blow job, will never stand for another Clinton in the White House. I admire this woman, for her intelligence, and for her ability to withstand the slings and arrows that came her way in the past. But, she has boobs AND balls. What more can I say? She hasn't got a prayer.
• Barack has as much chance as Hillary. The people who are not going to vote for a woman are not going to vote for an African American. Not when the right-wingers point out that his middle name is Hussein (which, by the way, means 'handsome or beautiful', not 'good-old-boy-American-hating-killer').
• Voters during the primaries will undoubtedly elect one of these two as their candidate for November 2008, which means that we will most assuredly have another Republican in the White House in 2009.

My goal will be two articles per day "off the cuff" - and to really listen to Mr. Hot and make a point to go look up anything that I don't understand. I may bring some of what I learn - that which is relevant to a subject, or especially though-provoking, or just fucking funny - back here to post my opinion. I will NOT turn this blog into a political blog. God knows there's enough of those out there.

Mr. Hot suggests strongly that I pay close attention to Maureen Dowd. I can't really imagine why, but I'm sure it has something to do with her biting wit and clear prose.

---- Bet his eyes wouldn't glaze over if she mentioned Larry Levine, but I like to think that she understands a bit about the Hotfessional life. ----

I'm a Kohl's whore

...70% sale racks. Additional 15% off everything when I put it on my Kohl's charge. So, I picked up a cute little skirt that's it over there), another (I think the total is up to 7) pair of black pants, 3 t-shirts (Daisy Fuentes) , a warm-up hoodie and a pair of cargo-style capris. Shortman got 6 new pairs of silk boxers and a bathing suit. Mr. Hot got a new pair of shorts. Less than $160 total.

That was my Friday night.....

Saturday was spent out in the yard, and yesterday was spent at the ballfield. Shortman had a double-header. The first game started at 1 p.m. - We didn't get home until after 6. Then we had to water the plants and move the basketball hoop and replant a tree - all in anticipation of the driveway being paved today. (We hope! So far there's been no magic call from Mr. Hot saying that the contractors are there). Tonight it's back over to my parents' house to pull the cover off of their pool. It just never stops y'all. Whatever happened to the "lazy days of summer"?

---- Actually, so far today has been very quiet at work - a sure sign that all hell is going to break loose very soon - probably should have picked up some running shoes and an umbrella for when the sky starts falling. ----

Heavy Equipment in my Yard

It was beautiful today. About 77, with more sun than you can imagine. Went to the Farmer's Market for some fresh spinach and then walked Poopy the Puppy around the park. This dog gets soooo excited to go find new places to explore. Amazingly enough (because I absolutely LOVE to sleep, and find it very difficult to get out of bed before 9 on Saturdays), this was done by 10:30.

Then, after 2 trips to Home Depot for pavers and sand and 2X4s (so, we can't measure for shit) - Mr. Hot and I laid out the 4 ft. by 5 ft. area for the grill to sit. While we were playing around with the bricks (we actually like to do this stuff - go figure), the contractor we hired to asphalt our driveway came by. This is the first time we've ever contracted out work (we always rented before this house....repair came by way of phone call with NO checks involved), so we've been understandably nervous about the whole deal. Especially when we got that "I'll call you early next week to set up a time". Early? That, to me, means sometime BEFORE Friday, dude. After 3 or 4 weeks of this, it's pretty clear...these guys don't care about a $2500 job - they obviously have much more lucrative stuff going on.



Anyway.... the guy shows up today to drop off... get this, a "paver" and a "roller". Cool. It's sitting in my yard - I figure I can always hold it ransom if he doesn't ever show his face here again. I specifically picked this guy because he doesn't expect payment until the work is completed. (I've heard horror stories).

So, this is the "before picture:


I only hope I can show you the "after" picture on Monday or Tuesday. (or the Better Business Bureau will be getting a call).

Now, I'm going to go get another glass of Pinot Grigo and sit on the deck until Mr. Hot finished grilling that chicken. The Pinot? Yum. Y'know that junk mail for wine clubs? The one that's kinda like the CD clubs or the Coffee of the Month club. They send you a case of wine for next-to-nothing, AND a free gift of a corkscrew that actually works!. Yum. Good stuff.

---- But, after you get that free gift and go through the 12 bottles in 4 days - you really should remember to cancel that membership, because this shit is expensive. Honestly. A bottle for $12.00? I can get an entire freakin' box for less than that! ----

Random Sh!t and Fun Sh!t....

...because even I can't bring myself to use the word shit in a title, for crying out loud.

As I wander through blogland, I find stuff that I find hilarious - especially in the archives. I have laughed my ass off at some of the things on Crystal's site. Amalah is another gem.

Sometimes I even comment on the things I read on other people's blogs. I do!

By the way - no one comments on my stuff, but hey, I'm not bitter. Really, I'm not. Honest. Just because no one has seen fit to comment on a single post....(sigh.)

Can't I just get a little comment???? You can even tell me my site is useless. I'm okay with that. Well - not really, but hey - I can live with it. There's a lot of things I'm not okay with, but I'm learning to live with....like Bush being President for another:

I do find some fun little gadgets.

Badger posted about this: What 2004 Hit Song Are You? I tried it. It ends up that I'm:

Milkshake by Kelis

"My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard And they're like, it's better than yours Damn right it's better than yours I could teach you But I have to charge" You can work it! And you started a new trend or two in 2004!

This is SO me.

Ambulance Driver had this one:

Hotfessional -- [noun]: A person of questionable sanity who starts their own cult 'How will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com

Okay, so obviously it doesn't take much to amuse me - especially on a Friday afternoon when all I want to do is go home and pour myself a Friday Evening Special and sit out on the deck.

---

Oh, and today, this guy came into the office wearing shorts. He no longer works here, but had to come turn in some company-owned stuff. He's a truly pompous ass. I had to go to the little girls' room while he was here, and I walked the extra long way around because I SO did not want to have to talk to him. Unfortunately, he caught me. And proceeded to tell me how cool he thought it was To. Wear. Shorts. To. The. Office. (Excuse me while I puke in my mouth remembering it).

---

I have a very close friend from college that I talk to less than once a year, who sees fit to write to me even though I haven't managed to answer - like - her last 3 letters (I'm so pitiful, I even pointed her to this blog and asked her to have this hold her over until I can pick up a freakin' pen). Hi Kijiwoo! I promise - I'll write soon. Truly. Geez, I am so sad.

---

I harvested my first radishes yesterday. I think I didn't thin them enough, so I'm not going to get as many as I originally hoped for, but they were yummy.

---

It's been sooo windy here the past two days. There was a wind advisory in the Windy City yesterday. Lots of people thought they were going to be stranded at the office....I was glad I wasn't there. Of course, my fellow executives (gentlemen they are NOT) told me how they walked around town at lunchtime to see how many thongs they could count. I've been there when they do this, and I can tell you - in Chicago - it's not always a pretty picture. This is the midwest. There are some big ladies out there wearing thongs.

---- Did I also mention that they walk around singing "It's the most wonderful time of the year"? In the summer? ----

Ch-ch-ch-changes (with all due respect to David)

Okay, it seems to be official. I'm pre-menopausal. Mood swings. Periods every 12 days (and boy, oh boy, isn't Mr. Hot happy about that????). Unabated bloating. Can't remember shit.

I called my mom.

Me: "So, when did you start menopause?"
Mom: "When did you get married?"
Me: "Mom - 1991. You were 50."
Mom: "The first time you got married, idiot"
Me: "Oh. 1985. You were 44. ---Pause--- I'm 44. Shit."
Mom: "Yea, don't you remember? Your bridal shower? I had to keep leaving to go to the restroom because...."
Me: "Okay, yes, I remember. Please let us not go there"

I have a new ob/gyn (and am definitely only interested in the gyn part). She's about 3'6". I think she had to stand on a stool to do my exam. She gave me a "period tracking calendar" and told me to track start/end dates. I'm averaging 15 days. How fun!

I get to stress about work, family, the price of gas, whether my roses are dying, and ... for even more entertainment ... night sweats and periods twice a month. C'mon - I know you all are jealous.
But, you know me - always the optimist. It's yet another thing I get to bitch about here.....so, hey. More material.

---

On a more serious, job-related note:

Today is another "going away" lunch. There is at least one of these each week. I always get an invitation, but I find it hard to attend because in most of these cases, the person being feted was released from their position due to this divestiture. It's not that these employees weren't performing, but because the new buyer decided we had too many people here and since they (buyer) were driving the conversion effort, a certain # of people needed to be laid off.

Then, of course, what makes it worse is that I'm the one that had to determine who was a must stay and who could be let go. The decisions weren't always made around who was "the best employee". Sometimes it was that there was an abundance of a certain skill set (a level of which wasn't needed). Sometimes, it was the opposite. We were woefully short-handed in a particular area and needed someone, anyone, to fill that spot.

So, when I get these invitations, I tactfully decline and then make sure that I make a special effort to thank the person for their professionalism and dedication during this difficult time. Sometimes the gesture is appreciated, sometimes I get an "Eat shit and Die" look. Of course, by not attending the lunch, then they're free to talk about me, what a crappy hand they've been dealt, how life sucks, etc. I'm sure a lot of anger gets vented. A good thing. I lived in Royal Oak when "Going Postal" was first used.

---- Of course, I fully expect that this pre-menopause thing to turn into full blown hot flashes, etc. just in time for my going away lunch. I will have lots of frozen margaritas and cry in my nachos. Then I'll fling a tampon at someone's head...if anyone is left to show up. ----

Does my Future hang in the Balance?

Today I'm meeting with the President of the company I work for (let's just call it XYZ). It's a multi-national that is currently

1. Selling off a couple of divisions
2. Being purchased (okay, it's a takeover) by a competitor

How, you may wonder, do you do both at the same time? Well, the divisional sales contract was closed before the takeover was announced. Currently, I'm managing the transition of my division AND doing my normal day job. I'm busy, but I would much rather be busy right now than looking for work. It makes life interesting, but I know that when I'm finished with this sale, I'll be released (aka "riffed", laid-off, let go).

In 2001, I was asked to participate in an initiative that restructured our entire company. After that project was completed, I was given a position of much more responsibility than any I'd had before. Two years later, we decided to offshore all of the work done in the U.S. to India. I worked on that project as well. Lots of my friends found themselves without a job after that one, but again, I got lucky.

In 2006, I picked up my family and moved 60 miles in order to take on the new challenge that I was offered....(I hate driving, and can't see spending 90 minutes commuting each day). I bought a house, took Shortman out of the school district that he'd been in since Kindergarten, left neighbors and friends, and threw myself into learning everything I could to be successful with this "very difficult, needs to be turned around" division. And I think I was well on my way to doing just that. Clients loved the fact that I followed up on promises. That I was positive and obviously interested in their business. They seemed to sense the commitment I had made to them (maybe my pointing out my house to them through the office windows had something to do with it? Yes people, you can see it ... it's a disgusting thing sometimes - my need to NOT drive in Michigan....I am the "anti-car"...shhhh, don't tell my uncles.)

Six months after the move, I was told about the impending sale.

Then it started all over again. Asked to manage the transition (damn, that Organizational Theory class did come in handy) and handle the staffing. But this time, there's little likelihood of a job waiting at the end. I won't move my family again (not until Shortman is out on his own...I made a promise that he would finish High School here) and the only positions with the new company are out of state (and neither state is very appealing).

If I am able to stay with XYZ (which I'm still hoping to do - I really like the company and the people), then I'll probably be on the road a lot (I don't mind....Shortman and Mr. Hot? Not so much). But even then, with the takeover that is pending, that would likely be a dead-end as well.

What's a Hotfessional to do?

I guess I keep doing what I've always done. Be optimistic. Do my best. Sell myself by being responsive to client needs and making sure that I'm seen as a leader. Wearing a tight sweater from time to time (kidding......well, maybe sometimes it helps.....no, really, I'm kidding. Kidding!).

I started this post by saying I was meeting with the President of the company today. He's coming to speak to those of us working on the divestiture about what's going on with the rest of the company. I interviewed with him for a different position than the one I have now a couple of years ago. He offered it to me, but I was in the middle of a huge project and couldn't leave at the time (there's that 'I'm committed' issue again - I seem to have a problem). He seemed to understand and approve. He wasn't President at the time, but because of the work we did on that project, he took over a different organization than his predecessor had. More streamlined and more efficient, but still in the growing phase and with the pains that come with that.

In two weeks I have an appointment to meet with him one-on-one. I'm hoping that with what I hear today, I can prepare for that meeting and be asked to work on the next sale - which will, I'm hoping, bring new challenges, opportunities to expand my network of contacts, and buy me some time until Shortman graduates. (But if not, I'll bring out the Wonderbra.)

---- Please take a moment today to pray for the families of the six men that were killed in a horrible plane crash into Lake Michigan as well as the man waiting for the organs they were transporting. Killed were two pilots, two U of M surgeons, and two transplant technicians. These are people who are heroes ----

3 More Days of School!

Why do I always feel like I should celebrate the last day of school? Maybe because it's an extra stress taken away for nearly 3 months? Shortman is going to be a junior next year. Amazing, where did that time go?

---

I just completely grossed him out. Was helping him with a presentation (although, why, I don't know - he's the Powerpoint expert), and I got up from the chair.

Shortman: "Mom, you were sitting on a pen. Good thing it didn't go up your butt"
Me: "Well, (yes, people, it's coming, I apologize in advance) - there could be worse things in my butt."

----Sometimes having a 15-year-old is just fun.----

Shoot me now.

• The first phone call when I got in this morning was from India. After about 7 "Hello?"s with breaking and crackling between them for good measure, someone asked me to reset their password because they got locked out. Excuse me? I look like the damn help desk? They refused to take my advice and call 800-Cant-Help. After my third time giving them the number, I put them on hold (with our Muzak playing in the background) and went to get a cup of coffee from the cafeteria.


• The cafeteria coffee machines were broken. Karma? I'm thinking maybe. But there was no one on the line when I got back, so I drank the crappy stuff out of the free coffee machine.


• After sitting on a conference call for 4 hours trying to determine what was causing freeze-ups with some of the applications (can you say leftovers from the problem with the electricity going away last week?), suddenly the clients say "No, we're not having problems anymore. All good." Yay for us, right? No, we didn't do anything but sit around and try to figure out what the fuck to do next. Apparently, the rain cloud that passed overhead took the bad mojo away...or I'm really Glinda the Good Bitch ... I mean Witch.


• This is the last week of regular school, then 1/2 day on Friday and Monday for final exams. (Yes, you read that right, and I don't know....I guess a weekend between finals is good, but why not just have a day off in the middle of the week or something?) Anyway, have I mentioned that Shortman *hates* tests? Is a decent student (when he wants to be), but can't take a test to save his life? Do you know what that does to our household? Especially when he's also dealing with end of the year projects (and....yes, for those that wonder, he did inherit his mother's procrastinator gene).


• My elbow is killing me. Seriously people. Can you get arthritis in one elbow? It hurts like hell and there's no good way to hold my arm - or sleep, which brings me to...


• The cat decided to get into bed with us this morning around 4 a.m. This cat has never slept in bed with us. The dog sleeps with us (he's a chocolate lab/daschund mix, and he sleeps between us). I got to sleep (after agonizing about Shortman's future) about midnight, woke up about 2:00 after rolling over onto my elbow, and finally fell back to sleep around 3:30. Then - The dog wants to know why Miss Meow is joining in the family bed all of the sudden. I'm a bit sleep deprived this morning. And only had sucky coffee.


• The idiots that I work with (men, all of them - have I mentioned that?) decided that I should be the one to plan the next Manager's dinner (we do these every quarter to catch up on things when we're all in town). Why should I be the one when I did it last time? And the time before that? Wait. Could it be because I have breasts? Yeah, well, guess who's picking the invite list out of their virtual butts right now? 'Cuz if they don't want to eat alone that night - they'll need those names.


• It's raining again, and has been, oh pretty much since Saturday afternoon. We went through this in April. I start growing moss after a couple of days - and not just on my north side.


• Mr. Hot has been going through Prick Man Syndrome since last Wednesday. I must have lost some of the "read my mind and do what I want you to do, because no matter what....everything I've done lately is wrong.

I need to drink tonight.

Hot and Heavy

Yesterday was hot in Michigan. It hit 87 degrees with 87% humidity before the thunderstorm started.


We went to my parents' house to help them with some landscaping. They live on 5-acres - about 10 miles from us. The landscaping was more akin to the work that the convicts on work release programs perform.


My Dad: "See that area over there?
Me: "The one with all of the rocks? The rocks that you made me put in there 26 years ago after my senior year in high school?
My Dad: "Yep"
Me: "What do you want done? There's some weeds that need to be pulled, but otherwise, it looks okay"
My Dad: "I want to move all the stone to the spots I dug around the garage"
Me: "All of them?!?!"


Five and a half hours later....


Shortman: "Mom, I'm kinda dizzy"
Me: "Drink more water and go sit in the shade....we've only got another wheelbarrow to go"


Seriously you all - it took us nearly 6 hours to clean out that area. We moved rocks over their entire yard. The area around the garage, by the pool, to an adjacent rock pile! Today, my muscles remember that I haven't done a workout in over a month.... (okay, so I got really lazy once I passed that 44th birthday landmark). My right elbow hurts. (Have you ever thrown 10-pound rocks for 6 hours? or maybe it was the lifting of multiple vodka-cranberry juices after we got home to make me forget how much I hurt) Shortman isn't out of bed yet - (of course, I was out cold before the 3rd quarter started in the Pistons game last night....and don't get me started about how they played!!!!!!!).


But, my parents are in their late 60s, and I'm the only one of their children that are still in the state. Michigan is getting bad that way. My sister is in Virginia, my brother is in Canada. Plus, it's a great way to forget all the workweek stresses and work out some of the frustration of the damn power outage from the day before.


---- Did I mention that payment was lunch? And that mom found this burger recipe? Yum. Okay, the hugs and kisses and the burgers made it more than worthwhile ----

Power Outage: The electricity just "went away"????

No thunderstorms. No car crashes into the building. No reason at all. But last night, around 11 p.m. (after I dragged myself to bed with a splitting headache around 9:30), there was a major power outage at our data center. Said data center houses the heart and soul of all of the computer systems used by my division.

Crash! Burn! Fry!

And who manages those systems? Yes, my dearies. The Hotfessional.

Now, since you all are computer literate, you do understand that if you're running about 40 applications on a bunch of different computers and all rely on a single source of power, and you're in the middle of multi-tasking - processing stuff on 36 or so of those systems - and sending reports and emails and stuff out from the other 4 - and some wayhoo blows up and decides to just take away the electricity.... this is going to cause problems. Yes? You understand that?

Then would you kindly tell the line of people outside my door who expect me to waive my little fairy wand over this whole mess and fix it in 2.64 seconds that it may take a little longer?!?!?!?

(No, this isn't exactly what I'm wearing today, but the hairstyle is kinda close ... except I have way more gray. I think I should maybe think about getting this outfit though...kinda goes with the whole Hotfessional theme)

Sorry, did I get off track there? Oh yea, back to bitching.

Really you all. Shit happens. This is not personal. It was not an act of terrorism that caused the power failure. I did not travel 60 miles at a time of day that is very clearly past my bedtime to somehow figure out how to disappear the current that runs it all so that my Friday would be spent listening to you yell at me. In fact - the experts - the people who actually play with electricity for a living have no idea what happened.

Yes, I will make sure that these things. Get. Fixed. That customers are taken care of. That work gets done. It's my weekend too y'know.

----- That is how my June started.....with the electricity that went away -------