Home Alone: Day Five

It's Friday!

Somehow, the fact that it's Friday didn't seem like such a big deal when I came home to an empty house. The dogs were ecstatic to see me, but, as anyone who has dogs can tell you - they are always ecstatic to see you return; whether you've been gone 20 seconds or 20 years. Same reaction every time.

Upon arriving home, I was immediately hit with overwhelming indecision. These are merely a portion of the thoughts that ran through my head like a horny speed-dater:

Should I treat myself and eat out or cook something healthy? Should I try to get my son's work permit or wait until he gets back and make him do it himself? Return a couple phone calls or wait until tomorrow? Go pick up books at the library or get a movie? Cruise the Internet or read a book? Eat dinner early or wait till later? Start laundry or weed the raspberries?

Aaaarrrrggghhh!!!

Being alone made the possibilities too numerous to mention. Without having my path narrowly defined by the ever changing needs and wants of others, I was unable to establish any true direction at all.

I guess that I've discovered that, when left alone, I currently have great difficulty charting a clear course for myself and sticking to it. I wonder if that will change as my children grow up and I gather the time back gradually instead of all at once?

Regardless of my new-found introspection, I must admit that I enjoyed this week. I enjoyed the way the house stayed clean. I enjoyed the peace and quiet. I enjoyed being able to follow my own quiet thoughts, wherever they led me.

But being alone sure gets lonely! Hurry home, guys!

Home Alone: Day Four

This morning I came downstairs and sneezed. In dire need of a tissue, I headed straight for the downstairs bathroom. As I approached the doorway, I saw my cat's head popping up from inside the tub. He did that cat-thing where his eyes got really big and he slowly started sinking down below the edge. As I walked into the bathroom, I saw him furtively glance towards the other end of the tub.

There sat a mouse.

A live mouse.

After my screams had died away, I plucked the cat from the tub and shut the bathroom door. Mouse was alive and breathing heavily. The tub looked like a scene straight out of "Fight Club". I knew I had to get him out of there, but I was irrationally afraid that he'd be able to get out of the tub if I left the room. As though he perhaps hadn't considered that option during the five or six hours he fended off imminent death.

After trapping him between an Archaeology magazine and some Tupperware, I deposited him outside. Way at the other end of the yard. He took a few steps and then I swear it almost seemed as though he glanced up towards the heavens and wiped a bead of sweat from his brow before heading into the treeline.

I don't know how long the cat had him trapped inside the tub, but it seems to me that maybe the feline species isn't the only one who deserves more than one life.

Home Alone: Day Three

I'm eating Milk Duds. I opened a drawer in my kitchen and there they were. For a second I got really excited and then I remembered that I put them there four days ago. I hid a half a box away from the kids and the husband by putting them in a drawer they'd never use, unless they cooked something. This sort of comes off as a slam on my husband and kids until you realize that I (who put them there) haven't opened the drawer either.

Today's episode of Home Alone features our lovely heroine (which is a word that is lovely to write but always comes out as a drug reference if you say it) frantically making phone calls.

I have a meeting tonight for a local fundraiser. Last week, I was put in charge of making several calls but never got around to doing it, so I've been on the phone ever since I got home from work. Just a couple more and I'll get 'er done. Good God Almighty, I hate calling people.

Maybe God reminded me to open the Milk Dud drawer as a reward?

Home Alone: Day Two

Well, last night was kind of a bust. I ended up spending waaaayyyy too much time trying to free up some disc space on my computer so I could download a game. After I checked to see if it had finished loading, I found out that I didn't have enough space left to add it. This led to an intense examination of old computer files and pictures in order to decide which things just had to go and which got saved to a CD. I may have accidentally deleted all the photos I took from 2007.

I am afraid to find out for sure.

Then I tried to run some computer clean-up stuff and this process ended up sucking away the rest of my night as I monitored my PC for prompts.

I got tired and went to bed, never having downloaded my game. My eyeballs burn.

DAY TWO:

Continued to fiddle with the computer, but finally got the game downloaded. After I've spent this much time in front of the monitor, the last thing I want to do is play a game. Maybe tomorrow.

After work, I got home and let the pups out. I found a check that I have been waiting for had FINALLY arrived in the mail. Buoyed with happiness, I loaded the dogs into the car and headed back into town to deposit the check into the bank.

Sona and Indy were very excited to go for a ride. They hung their heads out the back passenger windows and let their gums flap in the breeze. This made for a dangerous ride as I was compelled to watch their overwhelming cuteness in my side mirrors instead of giving my full attention to the road ahead.

The dogs loved the bank. The bank man gave them dog biscuits along with my deposit slip.

On the way home, I stopped at McDonald's to get some dinner. The dogs shared my fries with me.

I drank the last beer in the fridge and am getting ready to go watch some Tivo.

My healthy week of salads and exercise seems very, very far away right now.

Stay tuned!

Home Alone: Day One

Today, the boys and my husband headed out for the Upper Peninsula. They are part of a Boy Scout Troop that is going to visit and camp in the Porcupine Mountains for a week.

I have a week to myself and absolutely no idea what to do.

So, I thought I'd get on the ol' blog and let you know what happens when an overworked, underpaid, exhausted, flaky woman is left alone for six days.

I've been thinking about this gift of time for a week or so. Wondering what I should/would/could do. In my mind, I saw myself exercising for an hour and a half every day, going to bed early and eating nothing but salads whilst quaffing undue amounts of green tea.

So far, I've come home from work, wasted an hour on the computer and eaten a box of Sugar Babies.

Stay tuned for more!

A New Job Is Like A Banana

I think that a new job is a lot like a banana.

Well, maybe not just like a banana, but there are certain similarities.

When you first get a new job, everything looks great; just like a slightly underripe greeny-yellow banana that you've just brought home from the grocery store. You see nothing but its potential yumminess.

For the next few days, it sits and ripens into perfection. "My gosh!" you exclaim, "This is the best banana/job ever! I'm so glad I have it!"

Then, seemingly overnight, you notice a few telltale spots. A small blemish that you hadn't noticed before. But hey, its still pretty awesome, right? Maybe not as awesome as when you first got it, but hey, all banana/jobs go through this stage.

The speckles on the banana are natural. It's a process. So is the discovery of some speckles on a new job. The question is, "What are you going to do about it?"

Maybe your coworkers have now gotten so comfortable with having you around that they've dropped their "company" manners and gone right back to the incessant bickering they did before you arrived. Maybe the fact that your boss snorts when he laughs is getting on your nerves way faster than you thought it would. Either way, you have a decision to make.

Toss it or freeze it.

I prefer the latter option. Chill out and remember that freckled bananas make the best bread (and smoothies!). Keep your cool and remember that all jobs show their "spots" eventually. It's up to you to make the best of it. Don't be discouraged by the fact that your new job might have a few flaws. Make changes and adapt. Don't get sucked into the office politics blender! Stay positive and remember all the wonderful reasons why you took this job in the first place.

After all, we're all in this (banana) boat together!

Hidden Stress

I finished the first week of work at my new job. In the midst of all the excitement, happiness and sheer giddiness that I felt this week, I discovered something else. I was completely stressed out.

After losing my temper for the umpteenth time Thursday night, I acquiesced to my husband's request to take an evening stroll. He asked me how things were going at work and I confessed that although I was happy to be there, I was still very nervous about, well, everything.

He nodded. And then he told me that starting a new job is one of life's great stressers. I was shocked. How could this be? Getting something that I've wanted for months causes stress? Impossible! I was being paid twice what I made last year and had amazing benefits and a wonderful schedule. Why on earth should I have anything to be stressed about? And yet, there it was.

As we walked, I realized that I haven't acquired all those little safety valves that people develop when they've been on the job for a while. I don't have a secret stash of chocolate in my desk or a favorite after-work bar. I don't have a close co-worker to confide in or a "go-to" lunch place. I don't have any of those little habits and quirks that people use to cope with the day-to-day ups and downs of the workplace.

I don't have them yet. But on Friday, I did put a small box of chocolate in the back of my desk drawer. For emergencies.

Bad News Leads To Good News

I got a jah-ahb...I got a jah-ahb...I got a jah-ahb!

Hooray for me! I got a job! A brand-spanking new job, too. Not some used-up old job that someone else had for maybe a year or two or ten. This, my friends, is a brand new position and has never been worked before by anyone else.

It's funny how life works. I've been looking for a full-time position since November and have sent out hundreds of resumes. No one even called me for an interview. I pulled all the strings I had and made endless phone calls to try and get the ball rolling. Nothing was working. Discouraged, I decided to sign up for the Covance medical study in May, figuring I could at least take advantage of some quick money.

As you all know from my earlier blog post, I did NOT get chosen for the study. Now I was doubly discouraged.

What you, dear reader, did not know was that immediately after I made my sad sack little blog post, I got on the phone and decided to make some job related follow-up calls. The first person I reached was a very nice lady named Wendy. We chatted about the job I had applied for while she pulled out my resume from the stack and decided to invite me in for an interview. Oh, YEAH!

A few days later I had my interview and a couple of weeks after that...I got THE CALL!

Except I wasn't home to get it live. So I heard the message on the answering machine asking me to call Wendy back. Of course, I played it over and over, trying desperately to read any nuance in her voice. Was she calling to offer me a job? Was she calling to tell me that she wanted me in for a second interview? Was she calling me to tell me that they had changed their minds on opening up the position? Aaarrrggghhhh! Fortunately, I had friends around me who said comforting things like, "Good news comes by phone. Bad news comes by e-mail."

So I called her back.

You know the rest of the story.

And it's all because I didn't get into the medical study. Go figure!

Back In The Saddle

And now I'm back. From outer space. You just walked in to find me here with that sad look upon my face (Come on...sing along!)

I must admit that I've been blog shy lately. I haven't posted anything due to the fact that I am busy/lazy/crazy/hazy/whoops-a-daisy. But, I think that the main reason for the unintended hiatus was because I didn't end up making it into the medical study.

"Why not?" you ask.

Weeellllll, it had to do with the fact that my red blood cells were down just enough to disqualify me. The doctors on staff felt that if they took blood from me that I might not be able to replenish it easily. So, they sent me packing and off I went. They were kind enough to pay me for my time that day, but I really would have liked to make the boo-coo bucks they were laying out for the entire study.

This has since led me to reconsider my adventures in vegetarianland.

Although I have been a vegetarian for over five years now, this is the first time that I feel like I have not been properly fueling my body. Seeing the drop in my red blood cell count along with low iron levels has been somewhat disheartening. I mean, I thought I was doing all right! I made a conscious effort to try and head off any low iron levels in the past and I thought I assumed I was fairly successful. Guess not.

So what now? I am (reluctantly) jumping back on the meat wagon. Temporarily. We'll see how things go after a couple of months. I'm sure there are thousands of die-hard vegetarians who would love to tell me how to fix this without eating meat just as I am sure that there are thousands of meat-eaters who are giddy to have me back. To both groups I say, "Meh."

Honestly, I'm a little sad that I'm eating meat again, but I'm not distraught. Given the problems that so many people have in this world, I'm just grateful for food of any kind that appears on my table.

Excuse Note

To Whom It May Concern:

Please excuse Paperwing from blogging from May 10 through May 14. She will be at a medical study making tons of money while simultaneously feeling wretched.

I fully expect her to return on May 15 with tales of her ordeal.

Please call me if you should have any questions.

Sincerely,

Paperwing's Mother

Mother's Day: One Day Early

We're celebrating Mother's Day a day early this year. I am scheduled to check in for a paid medical study tomorrow and will be spending Mother's Day having my blood drawn and peeing into a cup.

My husband, ever the good sport, volunteered to drive me to the study at o' dark-thirty tomorrow morning. For the next 4 1/2 days of my time, I will be paid $1000. It beats the pay I get as a substitute teacher.

This will be my third study. I'm not sure how I feel about it. Truth be told, at this point it is all about the money. I don't have the luxury of deciding how I feel about what these experimental drugs could (or couldn't) do to my body. The mortgage must be paid.

On the positive side, when I'm in a study, I enjoy catching up on all my reading. I take lots of naps. I watch lots of t.v. and movies. I feel like I am functioning at the bare minimum level. It's kind of like hanging around your house in your pajamas. Except for the blood draws and the peeing in a cup thing.

I'll miss my family and I'll leave them lots of lists of things to remember while I'm gone.

I hate the fact that that all my kids will see of me on Mother's Day is a series of blue and pink post-it notes.

So, we'll try our best to cram all our celebrating into today and then pretend that tomorrow really isn't Mother's Day at all. Except it will be. And we all know it and that makes it twice as hard for us to be apart.

Which will make it all the sweeter when we're back together on Thursday.

Hey, I know it's just a Thursday. But, when I think about all the hugs and kisses I'm going to get when I'm back...it's almost like another Mother's Day.

Which Side of Town Are You From?

I live in a pretty small town. Really small. If you had fifty towns this size, they could all fit comfortably inside Madison's Camp Randall Stadium and watch the Badgers play. And we'd still have extra seats available.

When I first moved here, I purchased a house from one of the village's elderly residents. A Mrs. Loy. She was selling the house she had grown up in so that she could move into the local nursing facility. It always made me a little sad to think that my starter home was her ending home. You generally don't hear the real estate agents talk that way, though.

In short order, I began to realize that everyone in town knew my house. The Loy house.

"Oh!" someone would say when I gave them my address, "You live in Mrs. Loy's house!" Almost as if we had moved in with Mrs. Loy. I have to admit, after a while, I didn't even have to give my street address when someone asked me where I lived. I'd just breezily say, "I live in Mrs. Loy's old house," and I'd see the light of recognition shine in the other person's eyes as they began to nod, knowingly.

I knew one single, solitary person in my new town. Although I hadn't seen him for over ten years, he was kind enough to invite me to a local talent show one Saturday night. After participating on stage with his band, he sat down at my table and, sotto voce, gave me the lowdown on our fellow citizens. This one was a teacher, that one was a volunteer firefighter and so on and so on. He seemed to have everyone's story down pat. There was no harmful or malicious gossip; just a kind man filling in a newcomer on the town's Who's Who. People began to wave towards us when they recognized my friend. It was all so wonderfully heartwarming and Norman Rockwellesque.

I remember being pleasantly surprised at the high caliber of talent displayed at such a small, local fundraiser. But even more than that, I remember the fellow sitting across from me at our long, community table. He wore a fleece lined jean jacket and almost absently turned a corduroy engineer's cap around and around in his calloused hands throughout the performances.

During the intermission, when my friend excused himself to check on his gear, the stranger leaned over towards me and said, "So, I hear you're new in town."

"Yep," I answered. "Been here since January."

"Like it?" he asked, cocking a bushy grey eyebrow at me.

"Yeah, I really do," I answered.

He nodded without smiling. "Where d'you live?"

And I, with my confidence soaring, secure in the reciprocated love of my new hometown, answered, "I live in Mrs. Loy's old house."

"And where's that at?" he responded.

I was devastated. How could he not know? EVERYONE knew!

I began stammering and eventually managed to garble out my street address.

"Ahhh!" he answered as he settled his cap on his head. "That explains it."

That explains what? I wondered.

The man got up and buttoned his coat. "You see, you live on the south side of town. I live over on the north side. Don't have much call to get over to the south side much."

I'm afraid my mouth was still hanging open when the man excused himself and sauntered over to the door.

When my friend returned to the table, he asked me if I was enjoying myself.

I replied that I thought we all could stand to get out more often.

Looking For Inspiration

I've just realized that I've hit a whole new level of procrastination. Why else would someone start a blog?

My hope that my adventures in Blogdom prove interesting to at least one person. Or that I make someone laugh. With any luck, it will be the same person.