Yes, it's been a while since I last posted. I'm not even going to go into that.
I'm instead going to try and attempt a LARGE-scale project. I don't even know if it's completely possible, but I'll try. No, I'm not going to run another marathon - I did that already, and I don't even know where my running shoes are anyway. I'm not going to go try and learn Spanish, become a better cook, find a man, write the Great American Novel, or start a business.
I'm going to get organized.
I've always had a bit of an issue with clutter. I keep things clean in the sanitation sense, and I do a once-over on the house once a week or so. I could have company over and have the place presentable in an hour or so, but I've found that what used to be a junk drawer has become every empty container and room in my entire house. Mail piles up til I throw it all away (thank God for automatic bill-pay), magazines and electronics cords/accessories multiply like the Duggar family, and I now own 5 pairs of tweezers because I end up buying another pair when I can't locate the others. Most of my storage space (the attic, interiors of chests, the crawlspace, and various other locations) has a "I need to go through that" label on it in my head.
What do normal, Type-A, or people born without this clutter-bug gene do? A day/weekend of cleaning. Go through it and purge, start over. I think I'm beyond that. No, I'm not a hoarder, at least not to where you need to call A&E documentary crews over.
I have what Drena calls "sentimental clutter" - things that I keep because they remind me of someone or a happy time. Cards I've received. Ticket stubs. Stuffed animals won for me by ex-boyfriends. Bouquets I've caught at weddings - I've caught NINE. Sketches of paintings. Every note written to me in high school. Happy meal toys.
I have "future-use clutter" - things that I might have a need for at one time or another in the future. Magazines containing one pretty picture I wanted to keep. Hardware for IKEA furniture. Warranty cards for the dishwasher.
I have "supply clutter" - supplies purchased for projects, art supplies, office supplies, beauty supplies, multiples of tools, leftover interior paint, cleaning supplies.
Finally, I have "investment clutter" - stuff that I can't get rid of because I spent money on it. Clothes with the tags still on them because I haven't gotten them tailored. Wrong-color makeup. Broken electronics that I need to fix or get rid of. Decor that doesn't match my new place.
The list is endless.
So I'm giving myself one mess at a time. Hopefully one a day, but let's be honest, it may be a bit much at times. Every day, I want to clean one box, one drawer, one "dump spot", one group of things, and purge the clutter and find everything I keep in a place. I have given up on consigning/ebaying/selling things I'm purging - either donate, give away, or toss.
Hope to do one soon - I worked on something today, but I can't find my camera to document it. Maybe that's item 1...
Friday, November 12, 2010
Thursday, April 22, 2010
largely just a vent.
I decided to start writing on this thing again, though I don't think anyone's really paying attention anymore. I don't even think this feeds into people's readers, which I could take the time to update and problem-solve, but frankly, I don't really care. Read it if you want. Don't if you don't.
Good pieces of news:
1. Dan gets home soon. Can't believe it's been seven months, give or take.
2. I have mostly finished decorating the house. Screw that, I've gotten two and a half rooms done. But I do have a comfy new bed that I got for about 10% of the price. Overstock.com and I just came together at the right time and the right place.
3. I have REALLY blonde hair again.
4. I like my job for the most part, and at this rate, I couldn't get laid off - there is ALWAYS plenty for me to do.
5. It's almost summer. It has been a long, cold, rainy winter.
Things that are currently driving me up a wall:
1. The lovely military can't seem to nail down a date. This is not my favorite topic.
2. My lawn looks like shit. And the gutters are clogged. And I have a big ass oak tree in my backyard that's inevitably going to cost me a ton of money to remove. Awesome.
3. Our company lost about 24 hours to this crazy McAfee corporate update that shut down mine and thousands of other computers - no access to anything, just the blue screen of death. While I took it in stride and realized that when that happens, there's nothing I can do, I had everything pile back up today when we were able to get it all fixed. One of my analysts had the foresight to unplug from the network as soon as they heard people were having problems, allowing him to work offline through the outage. Now I REALLY wish I had done that - man, what I would give now for 24 hours of offline productivity where no one is able to email me.
4. In general, work is insane. My latest insanity-driver is the fact that I need to find the building age for 200 commercial properties in four western states. I found a lot through tax assessor websites, but more than half these counties have either nothing online or they charge for the parcel maps, which they won't even promise has the age of the structure. Since my job is all about centralizing efforts to streamline costs, I don't exactly have funding to pay these government agencies to tell me the age of structures that my client ALREADY OWNS. It's like this most days...I'm just chasing my tail to find a needle in a haystack...one that's been found several times before, but should have been saved somewhere.
Well, hell.
I need to go grocery shopping.
Good pieces of news:
1. Dan gets home soon. Can't believe it's been seven months, give or take.
2. I have mostly finished decorating the house. Screw that, I've gotten two and a half rooms done. But I do have a comfy new bed that I got for about 10% of the price. Overstock.com and I just came together at the right time and the right place.
3. I have REALLY blonde hair again.
4. I like my job for the most part, and at this rate, I couldn't get laid off - there is ALWAYS plenty for me to do.
5. It's almost summer. It has been a long, cold, rainy winter.
Things that are currently driving me up a wall:
1. The lovely military can't seem to nail down a date. This is not my favorite topic.
2. My lawn looks like shit. And the gutters are clogged. And I have a big ass oak tree in my backyard that's inevitably going to cost me a ton of money to remove. Awesome.
3. Our company lost about 24 hours to this crazy McAfee corporate update that shut down mine and thousands of other computers - no access to anything, just the blue screen of death. While I took it in stride and realized that when that happens, there's nothing I can do, I had everything pile back up today when we were able to get it all fixed. One of my analysts had the foresight to unplug from the network as soon as they heard people were having problems, allowing him to work offline through the outage. Now I REALLY wish I had done that - man, what I would give now for 24 hours of offline productivity where no one is able to email me.
4. In general, work is insane. My latest insanity-driver is the fact that I need to find the building age for 200 commercial properties in four western states. I found a lot through tax assessor websites, but more than half these counties have either nothing online or they charge for the parcel maps, which they won't even promise has the age of the structure. Since my job is all about centralizing efforts to streamline costs, I don't exactly have funding to pay these government agencies to tell me the age of structures that my client ALREADY OWNS. It's like this most days...I'm just chasing my tail to find a needle in a haystack...one that's been found several times before, but should have been saved somewhere.
Well, hell.
I need to go grocery shopping.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Horrible...
I guess you can tell I moved in, but unfortunately, my first post since then isn't a happy one.
I moved in on November 6, and I've LOVED my new house. The Colonel settled in well, I got great deals on furniture and Ikea-hacked myself into a decently-decorated house. I was planning on buying a new bed (mine is a queen, and it looks TINY in my HUGE bedroom), and was THIS close from splurging on a nearly $2,000 bed and mattress.
Until December 29.
I came home late from work, and was so worried that the Colonel had an accident because I had left so early that morning and couldn't make it home for lunch. I opened the door, which was sticking a bit - I assumed the cold was making the door and new lock settle a little oddly. I looked up, saw the empty television stand. In my naivete, I assumed the dog had gotten curious behind the TV stand and knocked the flat-screen over. I freaked out, thinking I'd find a squashed beagle under a 50" plasma. I ran over, looked down, and the carpet never seemed so...barren. No television. I looked to the kitchen, the dining room, and the rest of the main area...
And I swear, it was like it was in the movies, where everything comes into focus. My entire house was ransacked. The back doors were basically destroyed, having been kicked/battering-rammed in - through a deadbolt. The trash can was on its side, having been thrown across the room. The dog food container lay on its side, and I noticed I was walking on dog food. A heavy can of peanuts, a hammer, a rubber mallet, and several other throwable, heavy objects were on opposite sides of the room from where I had placed them before. I looked in my bedroom, saw my bedroom door destroyed as well. The entire time, I called for the Colonel - nothing. I looked to the guest bedrooms, saw the doors were closed, and suddenly realized it was possible I wasn't actually alone in the house.
I literally dropped my purse and work computer on the floor, left my keys in the door, and took off for the neighbors two doors down, as the next-door neighbor's light wasn't on.
I interrupted their late-Christmas dinner. I was hysterical, said I had JUST moved in, and I was sorry I hadn't introduced myself yet, but that I needed to use their phone because I had been robbed and everything looks gone worth any value and I CAN'T FIND MY DOG AND IT'S TEN DEGREES OUT...
We called 911, and an officer took my statement and said it would be a little while before the Crime Scene unit came, but to NOT. TOUCH. ANYTHING. The neighbors scoured the neighborhood all they could for the Colonel, and found nothing. I sent them home and thanked them, and that I was very sorry to have disturbed their dinner. I called Meghan, and asked if I could stay with her - I couldn't sleep at my own house that night. Of course, she said yes. I called the insurance company, who dispatched an emergency reconstruction contractor to repair my recently-painted dining room wall and door. I stood in my house, not touching anything - just...staring - for three hours while I waited. I called my parents and one friend from home, who started the Lynchburg Rumor Mill, which truly runs at a speed greater than any force EVER. I texted a few random people. I called for the dog. Nothing. My mother offered to drive down immediately, as did more than a few friends both locally and otherwise, but I felt like even though I wanted the company...for once, there was nothing she nor anyone else could do.
It was freezing.
The Crime Scene Unit came, and I tried to at least make conversation with the officers. We discovered that the theives had driven around the back of my house - and just loaded right up. I remembered turning the lights on when I came home, so it was obvious they hit in broad daylight. The Crime Scene investigator covered almost every inch of my house in fingerprint dust...and apologized that it's hell to clean up. I said it was ok. He took about 10,000 pictures, and then said that the only fingerprints he was able to lift - from the entire house - was one palm print on a closet. He took my palm prints as elimination prints - because he couldn't rule mine out as being the one he found. I guess that means I really am a good housekeeper if he couldn't find one other print - even from me. He apologized for having to take mine twice...because he'd "never done it on anyone alive before..."
Finally, he left, I called Meghan and said I was going to be LATE, called a coworker and asked her to look up my boss' phone number (my internet was out because they'd stolen my router), and she was extremely sweet in offering to call me in on PTO and offering me a place to stay. The contractor finally got there and boarded up my doors...it looks like a railroad got laid over them. I still called for Colonel Mustard. I drove through the neighborhood until at least 2 am. Nothing. I finally drove over to Meghan's and got in her guest bed, exhausted. I sent Dan an email, saying only "I have bad news...my house got robbed. They took a lot, and the Colonel is missing. I'm safe, I'm fine, and I'm sleeping at Meghan's. I'm sorry, I know you're busy and can't deal with me, I'm just...lost." He called five minutes later from Afghanistan, and for the first time that night, I burst into tears.
I woke up to a friend's call - he wanted to know HOW to help. He offered to come over and help find the Colonel, to help me clean, a place to stay, guns, anything - and again, I felt so awful, I couldn't tell people HOW to help. Nothing helped. I got up, sat with Meghan and Matt and the kids, had a BIG cup of coffee, and ate a couple of donuts while Caroline drew me a picture of "Miss Molly and her Doggie", because she was worried about him. I'm still crying thinking about it when I write this - a week later!
I finally decided to go home and have a hard look for the Colonel. When I got home, I tore through the woods, calling him, and finally, when I got back up to the house...there was this little beagle, curled up on the blanket from my bed that I had left out for him on the back porch. He was a little lame on a leg, and shaking, but not bleeding or broken. I don't think I've ever hugged him so much or apologized so much - I kept thinking he'd run away, believing I had put him through that experience - getting hammers and trash cans thrown at him by scary people, when all he was doing was barking his head off trying to protect me. I thanked my lucky stars.
Then I came in, and for the first time, I understood why people coming back after hurricanes, tornadoes, floods and fires burst into tears. Because I did. The house was still a wreck. Fingerprint dust was everywhere. I didn't even know where to start. I tried cleaning the dust, and realized I needed professionals, and called the first licensed maid team I could find. They had no availability, but called a COMPETITOR when they heard my story, they came that day. $150 for 1300 square feet of solid MESS. Worth every penny, even if the insurance refused to pay.
My cousin came that day and stayed for three days, and we drank like sailors. That's about all we could do - nothing else works. I went to Ikea and replaced some of the broken stuff. I rang in the New Year, and tried to remember that 2009, and the decade that no one wants to properly name, was actually pretty good to me. I drank a lot of champagne and egg nog and danced like an idiot, remembering that exactly ten years before, Meghan and I were standing in NoWhere Bar in Athens. I won't elaborate on the trouble we got into the first hours of 2000. I couldn't believe where she - and I - have gotten since then.
My stepdad and brother spent the night this past Sunday, and I've slowly been piecing my life together since. I can't sleep, not more than 2 hours a night. I'm scared of the bad guys coming back, and that I'll be there. I got a security system and am protecting myself even further. The detective has taken my case and said she might actually be able to track it down since I had pretty good documentation, but...90% are unsolved.
Overall, how do I feel?
Frantic until I found the dog.
Elated once I did.
Now...I'm terrified, violated, and mostly, ANGRY.
I'm terrified that someone staked out my house and knew three things - that I lived alone, I worked long hours, and the dog was all bark and no bite. I'm terrified they'll come back and that I won't be able to protect myself. I'm terrified that they might somehow be connected with me and I don't know that I'm walking among them. I'm terrified that I'll never be able to sell the house. I'm terrified that I'm never going to get the fingerprint dust out of the carpet - by the way, there's no hint from Heloise on that. I'm terrified that they stole my credit card statement and other pieces of mail that I had assumed were just lost. I'm terrified about it turning into an identity theft nightmare. I'm terrified that they've seen pictures of me. I'm terrified that the Colonel will get scared in public and bite someone if they happen to be the same size, shape, race or smell of the thieves.
I feel violated that I had to watch police officers take pictures of my underwear, because the thieves tossed everything out of my drawers. I feel violated because my laptop was in my bed. THEY WERE IN MY BED. I feel violated because it's the ONLY place I NEED to feel safe. I know it sounds crass, but it really feels one male organ short of rape. I'm absolutely shocked at how violated I've felt - I was once mugged, and never felt violated. My car has been broken into, my bike has been stolen, and someone TRIED to break in when I lived in Philly while we were actually in the house, but they got chased off by police. I was a little aggravated and saddened by all situations...but I never felt like my very personality had been stolen. Not like this.
And I'm angry. Angry that they made me lose a general sense of pacifism and faith in human nature. I had grown up in two houses where we NEVER locked the doors, and even though all my doors were locked and deadbolted, they got in. I'm angry that no one saw anything. I'm angry that Dan wasn't there. I'm angry that someone raised their children and didn't set the example of forcing their 5-year-old to take back the pack of gum they had stolen and apologize, and those kids grew up to rob my house. I'm angry that Samsung doesn't print their serial numbers anywhere permanent on their televisions, just on a label that's easily peeled off by thieves. I'm angry at my original home security people for not being able to install until January because of the first-time homebuyers program pushed them to a backlog. And I'm angry at those ass-clown scumbag cowards who had to admit to each other that they were ass-clown scumbag cowards in order to carry a 50" television out of the house. Angry as hell. For breaking my new doors, for tearing up my back lawn, for making a mess in my FINALLY-cleaned up house, for two televisions, for my laptop, for my hard drive, for a DVD player that wasn't worth jack, for every piece of jewelry I'd ever received from a boyfriend, from my dad, from my grandmother who had received them from her husband and unbelievable people while working for the state department, and every other piece of jewelry I've ever owned except a few minor pieces I was wearing or in a shoebox about to give away to goodwill. I'm SUPER-angry that they hurt my dog and might have to be restrained if they ever are caught. I'm angry that CMPD doesn't have the resources to track them down, and that even if they did, Mecklenburg County won't prosecute unless it's ironclad more than freaking Law & Order cases. I'm angry that I couldn't figure out ways for my friends to help when they offered. I'm angry that I have to suck it up when I get scared, because I HAVE to get back to normal sometime. And finally, I'm angry that it made me this angry. I never wanted to be a victim, and I hate being one.
If you come over to visit, do me a favor - come in the front door, and ring the doorbell. Don't surprise me around back - because I'm not necessarily waiting for the ADT panic signal to get to police. I'll be relying on a more traditional system of home defense if I get an intruder, and I'm not going to be asking questions first.
I moved in on November 6, and I've LOVED my new house. The Colonel settled in well, I got great deals on furniture and Ikea-hacked myself into a decently-decorated house. I was planning on buying a new bed (mine is a queen, and it looks TINY in my HUGE bedroom), and was THIS close from splurging on a nearly $2,000 bed and mattress.
Until December 29.
I came home late from work, and was so worried that the Colonel had an accident because I had left so early that morning and couldn't make it home for lunch. I opened the door, which was sticking a bit - I assumed the cold was making the door and new lock settle a little oddly. I looked up, saw the empty television stand. In my naivete, I assumed the dog had gotten curious behind the TV stand and knocked the flat-screen over. I freaked out, thinking I'd find a squashed beagle under a 50" plasma. I ran over, looked down, and the carpet never seemed so...barren. No television. I looked to the kitchen, the dining room, and the rest of the main area...
And I swear, it was like it was in the movies, where everything comes into focus. My entire house was ransacked. The back doors were basically destroyed, having been kicked/battering-rammed in - through a deadbolt. The trash can was on its side, having been thrown across the room. The dog food container lay on its side, and I noticed I was walking on dog food. A heavy can of peanuts, a hammer, a rubber mallet, and several other throwable, heavy objects were on opposite sides of the room from where I had placed them before. I looked in my bedroom, saw my bedroom door destroyed as well. The entire time, I called for the Colonel - nothing. I looked to the guest bedrooms, saw the doors were closed, and suddenly realized it was possible I wasn't actually alone in the house.
I literally dropped my purse and work computer on the floor, left my keys in the door, and took off for the neighbors two doors down, as the next-door neighbor's light wasn't on.
I interrupted their late-Christmas dinner. I was hysterical, said I had JUST moved in, and I was sorry I hadn't introduced myself yet, but that I needed to use their phone because I had been robbed and everything looks gone worth any value and I CAN'T FIND MY DOG AND IT'S TEN DEGREES OUT...
We called 911, and an officer took my statement and said it would be a little while before the Crime Scene unit came, but to NOT. TOUCH. ANYTHING. The neighbors scoured the neighborhood all they could for the Colonel, and found nothing. I sent them home and thanked them, and that I was very sorry to have disturbed their dinner. I called Meghan, and asked if I could stay with her - I couldn't sleep at my own house that night. Of course, she said yes. I called the insurance company, who dispatched an emergency reconstruction contractor to repair my recently-painted dining room wall and door. I stood in my house, not touching anything - just...staring - for three hours while I waited. I called my parents and one friend from home, who started the Lynchburg Rumor Mill, which truly runs at a speed greater than any force EVER. I texted a few random people. I called for the dog. Nothing. My mother offered to drive down immediately, as did more than a few friends both locally and otherwise, but I felt like even though I wanted the company...for once, there was nothing she nor anyone else could do.
It was freezing.
The Crime Scene Unit came, and I tried to at least make conversation with the officers. We discovered that the theives had driven around the back of my house - and just loaded right up. I remembered turning the lights on when I came home, so it was obvious they hit in broad daylight. The Crime Scene investigator covered almost every inch of my house in fingerprint dust...and apologized that it's hell to clean up. I said it was ok. He took about 10,000 pictures, and then said that the only fingerprints he was able to lift - from the entire house - was one palm print on a closet. He took my palm prints as elimination prints - because he couldn't rule mine out as being the one he found. I guess that means I really am a good housekeeper if he couldn't find one other print - even from me. He apologized for having to take mine twice...because he'd "never done it on anyone alive before..."
Finally, he left, I called Meghan and said I was going to be LATE, called a coworker and asked her to look up my boss' phone number (my internet was out because they'd stolen my router), and she was extremely sweet in offering to call me in on PTO and offering me a place to stay. The contractor finally got there and boarded up my doors...it looks like a railroad got laid over them. I still called for Colonel Mustard. I drove through the neighborhood until at least 2 am. Nothing. I finally drove over to Meghan's and got in her guest bed, exhausted. I sent Dan an email, saying only "I have bad news...my house got robbed. They took a lot, and the Colonel is missing. I'm safe, I'm fine, and I'm sleeping at Meghan's. I'm sorry, I know you're busy and can't deal with me, I'm just...lost." He called five minutes later from Afghanistan, and for the first time that night, I burst into tears.
I woke up to a friend's call - he wanted to know HOW to help. He offered to come over and help find the Colonel, to help me clean, a place to stay, guns, anything - and again, I felt so awful, I couldn't tell people HOW to help. Nothing helped. I got up, sat with Meghan and Matt and the kids, had a BIG cup of coffee, and ate a couple of donuts while Caroline drew me a picture of "Miss Molly and her Doggie", because she was worried about him. I'm still crying thinking about it when I write this - a week later!
I finally decided to go home and have a hard look for the Colonel. When I got home, I tore through the woods, calling him, and finally, when I got back up to the house...there was this little beagle, curled up on the blanket from my bed that I had left out for him on the back porch. He was a little lame on a leg, and shaking, but not bleeding or broken. I don't think I've ever hugged him so much or apologized so much - I kept thinking he'd run away, believing I had put him through that experience - getting hammers and trash cans thrown at him by scary people, when all he was doing was barking his head off trying to protect me. I thanked my lucky stars.
Then I came in, and for the first time, I understood why people coming back after hurricanes, tornadoes, floods and fires burst into tears. Because I did. The house was still a wreck. Fingerprint dust was everywhere. I didn't even know where to start. I tried cleaning the dust, and realized I needed professionals, and called the first licensed maid team I could find. They had no availability, but called a COMPETITOR when they heard my story, they came that day. $150 for 1300 square feet of solid MESS. Worth every penny, even if the insurance refused to pay.
My cousin came that day and stayed for three days, and we drank like sailors. That's about all we could do - nothing else works. I went to Ikea and replaced some of the broken stuff. I rang in the New Year, and tried to remember that 2009, and the decade that no one wants to properly name, was actually pretty good to me. I drank a lot of champagne and egg nog and danced like an idiot, remembering that exactly ten years before, Meghan and I were standing in NoWhere Bar in Athens. I won't elaborate on the trouble we got into the first hours of 2000. I couldn't believe where she - and I - have gotten since then.
My stepdad and brother spent the night this past Sunday, and I've slowly been piecing my life together since. I can't sleep, not more than 2 hours a night. I'm scared of the bad guys coming back, and that I'll be there. I got a security system and am protecting myself even further. The detective has taken my case and said she might actually be able to track it down since I had pretty good documentation, but...90% are unsolved.
Overall, how do I feel?
Frantic until I found the dog.
Elated once I did.
Now...I'm terrified, violated, and mostly, ANGRY.
I'm terrified that someone staked out my house and knew three things - that I lived alone, I worked long hours, and the dog was all bark and no bite. I'm terrified they'll come back and that I won't be able to protect myself. I'm terrified that they might somehow be connected with me and I don't know that I'm walking among them. I'm terrified that I'll never be able to sell the house. I'm terrified that I'm never going to get the fingerprint dust out of the carpet - by the way, there's no hint from Heloise on that. I'm terrified that they stole my credit card statement and other pieces of mail that I had assumed were just lost. I'm terrified about it turning into an identity theft nightmare. I'm terrified that they've seen pictures of me. I'm terrified that the Colonel will get scared in public and bite someone if they happen to be the same size, shape, race or smell of the thieves.
I feel violated that I had to watch police officers take pictures of my underwear, because the thieves tossed everything out of my drawers. I feel violated because my laptop was in my bed. THEY WERE IN MY BED. I feel violated because it's the ONLY place I NEED to feel safe. I know it sounds crass, but it really feels one male organ short of rape. I'm absolutely shocked at how violated I've felt - I was once mugged, and never felt violated. My car has been broken into, my bike has been stolen, and someone TRIED to break in when I lived in Philly while we were actually in the house, but they got chased off by police. I was a little aggravated and saddened by all situations...but I never felt like my very personality had been stolen. Not like this.
And I'm angry. Angry that they made me lose a general sense of pacifism and faith in human nature. I had grown up in two houses where we NEVER locked the doors, and even though all my doors were locked and deadbolted, they got in. I'm angry that no one saw anything. I'm angry that Dan wasn't there. I'm angry that someone raised their children and didn't set the example of forcing their 5-year-old to take back the pack of gum they had stolen and apologize, and those kids grew up to rob my house. I'm angry that Samsung doesn't print their serial numbers anywhere permanent on their televisions, just on a label that's easily peeled off by thieves. I'm angry at my original home security people for not being able to install until January because of the first-time homebuyers program pushed them to a backlog. And I'm angry at those ass-clown scumbag cowards who had to admit to each other that they were ass-clown scumbag cowards in order to carry a 50" television out of the house. Angry as hell. For breaking my new doors, for tearing up my back lawn, for making a mess in my FINALLY-cleaned up house, for two televisions, for my laptop, for my hard drive, for a DVD player that wasn't worth jack, for every piece of jewelry I'd ever received from a boyfriend, from my dad, from my grandmother who had received them from her husband and unbelievable people while working for the state department, and every other piece of jewelry I've ever owned except a few minor pieces I was wearing or in a shoebox about to give away to goodwill. I'm SUPER-angry that they hurt my dog and might have to be restrained if they ever are caught. I'm angry that CMPD doesn't have the resources to track them down, and that even if they did, Mecklenburg County won't prosecute unless it's ironclad more than freaking Law & Order cases. I'm angry that I couldn't figure out ways for my friends to help when they offered. I'm angry that I have to suck it up when I get scared, because I HAVE to get back to normal sometime. And finally, I'm angry that it made me this angry. I never wanted to be a victim, and I hate being one.
If you come over to visit, do me a favor - come in the front door, and ring the doorbell. Don't surprise me around back - because I'm not necessarily waiting for the ADT panic signal to get to police. I'll be relying on a more traditional system of home defense if I get an intruder, and I'm not going to be asking questions first.
Friday, September 18, 2009
House hunting - over?
I've survived. That's all I can say. I've had a few posts ready to go about this , but I haven't said anything because:
a) I don't want to jinx it.
b) Every time I feel one way, another thing changes.
c) I've been worried about who reads this. Yes, I've been a little paranoid that maybe a seller would see me get excited about a house and then try to take me for more money. Whatever, no one reads this thing anymore (I've seen readership, let's say...FALL...since I left Philadelphia, but I don't care), but it still freaked me out.
So. I'll try to post these in the order in which they were written. Forgive me if I leave anything out or if I forget to post anything. Just ask me and I'll fill you if you see a gap in the storyline.
a) I don't want to jinx it.
b) Every time I feel one way, another thing changes.
c) I've been worried about who reads this. Yes, I've been a little paranoid that maybe a seller would see me get excited about a house and then try to take me for more money. Whatever, no one reads this thing anymore (I've seen readership, let's say...FALL...since I left Philadelphia, but I don't care), but it still freaked me out.
So. I'll try to post these in the order in which they were written. Forgive me if I leave anything out or if I forget to post anything. Just ask me and I'll fill you if you see a gap in the storyline.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
"And now," Max cried, "Let the wild rumpus start"
I'm inherently a bit wary of movie adaptations of books that I've loved since childhood. I think Hollywood ruined James and the Giant Peach and The Witches, two of my favorite Roald Dahl books. Charlotte's Web - sorry Dakota Fanning, but you are NO Fern. I'm going to pass on Tim Burton's take on Alice in Wonderland because I'm convinced that it's one of the few stories in which a darker Burtonesque adaptation is just...well, passe. Burton has done it before and ruined Willy Wonka, I'd love it if he'd just lay off my childhood and find a new story to tell. So help me God, if they ever turn Goodnight Moon into a box-office extravaganza, I might join a protest.
Last Sunday, I fell upon a New York Times article about Spike Jonze's journey in making Where the Wild Things Are. I should say - I loved this book to pieces when I was a kid. Even with the bland color pallette, I loved the illustrations - Maurice Sendak became one of the first illustrators I could name off the top of my head. I understood the significance of Max as a character, as well as his relationship with his monsters - even at a really young age - and I just fell into the camp of people who just got it when it came to WTWTA. It's about imagination, about a child's discovery of the adult emotion of loneliness - and how children deal with it. And along with Christopher Robin, Holden Caulfield, and Scout Finch, Max was a key example I used for a senior Children's Lit paper in illustrating how books have best described the fragility of childhood itself. So when I saw the article, I instinctively built my wall up - I thought "my GOD they have ruined it all. Great, my kids will NEVER get it like I did. Another Shrek knockoff."
But after reading the article, I really was excited to at least give this movie a shot. Then I saw the trailer. And the other trailer. And the featurette about the making of the movie. And now I'm super-pumped to see this - I think Spike Jonze, for lack of a better term, GOT it. This is what film students should study to find out why we bother adapting books into movies in the first place.
So I have now found the perfect formula for convincing Molly to spend an actual $10 to end her 2-year absence from the theaters. Take one quality director who has made a career of using his overactive imagination. Add a classic story and hire a superb writer - say, Dave Eggers - to write the screenplay. Involve the original author and illustrator at every step of the process. Fight the studio to make a film that keeps true to the integrity of the original work. Refuse to dumb down a story for children. Also refuse bright lights, vivid colors, and other children-trapping visual tricks unless germaine to the story. Hold the impact of the original work on its audience dear, and don't release it until you feel it's ready for that audience. Finally, set the trailer to Arcade Fire.
And then you've got Molly in cinematic tears...at the TRAILER.
Last Sunday, I fell upon a New York Times article about Spike Jonze's journey in making Where the Wild Things Are. I should say - I loved this book to pieces when I was a kid. Even with the bland color pallette, I loved the illustrations - Maurice Sendak became one of the first illustrators I could name off the top of my head. I understood the significance of Max as a character, as well as his relationship with his monsters - even at a really young age - and I just fell into the camp of people who just got it when it came to WTWTA. It's about imagination, about a child's discovery of the adult emotion of loneliness - and how children deal with it. And along with Christopher Robin, Holden Caulfield, and Scout Finch, Max was a key example I used for a senior Children's Lit paper in illustrating how books have best described the fragility of childhood itself. So when I saw the article, I instinctively built my wall up - I thought "my GOD they have ruined it all. Great, my kids will NEVER get it like I did. Another Shrek knockoff."
But after reading the article, I really was excited to at least give this movie a shot. Then I saw the trailer. And the other trailer. And the featurette about the making of the movie. And now I'm super-pumped to see this - I think Spike Jonze, for lack of a better term, GOT it. This is what film students should study to find out why we bother adapting books into movies in the first place.
So I have now found the perfect formula for convincing Molly to spend an actual $10 to end her 2-year absence from the theaters. Take one quality director who has made a career of using his overactive imagination. Add a classic story and hire a superb writer - say, Dave Eggers - to write the screenplay. Involve the original author and illustrator at every step of the process. Fight the studio to make a film that keeps true to the integrity of the original work. Refuse to dumb down a story for children. Also refuse bright lights, vivid colors, and other children-trapping visual tricks unless germaine to the story. Hold the impact of the original work on its audience dear, and don't release it until you feel it's ready for that audience. Finally, set the trailer to Arcade Fire.
And then you've got Molly in cinematic tears...at the TRAILER.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
A Cautionary Tale: Lessons learned the hard way. Or, Adventures in Myers Park.
Two little pieces of advice that I figured out the wrong way today:
1. Check what you're wearing before you go out in public. Beyond just covering the naughty bits, you might want to foresee who might look twice at your clothing. Because if you walk into the Myers Park Target wearing an old painting t-shirt, it looks a little odd to folks. Especially when it's covered in red paint splatters, and it makes you look like you're a serial killer.
2. If your caffeine addiction has grown to the point where the "Red Eye" (coffee plus a shot of Espresso) needs ANOTHER shot of Espresso, and you've learned that the Starbucks lingo for coffee-plus-two-shots is called a "Black Eye" (for it's strong punch), do yourself a favor and exercise restraint on the lingo. Just order like this: "Coffee with 2 shots of Espresso." Especially when in the often-crowded Dilworth Starbucks. Because when you place the order of "Can I get a tall Black Eye?" over the hiss of the machines, the baristas and everyone else in the crowded coffeehouse stop and stare. And you'll suddenly hear crickets. Because it sounds like you just asked loudly for a tall black guy.
1. Check what you're wearing before you go out in public. Beyond just covering the naughty bits, you might want to foresee who might look twice at your clothing. Because if you walk into the Myers Park Target wearing an old painting t-shirt, it looks a little odd to folks. Especially when it's covered in red paint splatters, and it makes you look like you're a serial killer.
2. If your caffeine addiction has grown to the point where the "Red Eye" (coffee plus a shot of Espresso) needs ANOTHER shot of Espresso, and you've learned that the Starbucks lingo for coffee-plus-two-shots is called a "Black Eye" (for it's strong punch), do yourself a favor and exercise restraint on the lingo. Just order like this: "Coffee with 2 shots of Espresso." Especially when in the often-crowded Dilworth Starbucks. Because when you place the order of "Can I get a tall Black Eye?" over the hiss of the machines, the baristas and everyone else in the crowded coffeehouse stop and stare. And you'll suddenly hear crickets. Because it sounds like you just asked loudly for a tall black guy.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Shameless begging for money - for a good cause!
One of the most frequent suggestions I got when I started training for the marathon was to tie it into raising money for a cause. Running has a way of getting that little devil in your head that says "WHY are you doing this? Your feet hurt, you're tired, you don't have the time, and God gave us horses and then cars so we WOULDN'T have to go far on foot. Why run unless being chased?". Raising money for a cause gives you motivation to get off your butt, ties you into a commitment greater than the $88 entry fee, and all that jazz. I had a hard time figuring out what I wanted to do, but the hands-down winner was the Multiple Myeloma Research Foundation. They're a great charity that spends over 93% of all their funds on research (some charities spend 93% on fundraising and administrative costs - I wanted something that actually DID things to make a difference!) and they don't have the benefit of a huge public celebrity to help them meet their goals. They're the little guy that's doing things the way that the big guys SHOULD!
Most of all, though, I picked the MMRF because my own Granddad died of the disease. I'm not here to give you a tearjerker campaign, but suffice it to say, I'd really love any support that's out there. Please visit my fundraising site and contribute anything you can - even if it's $10 or whatever - and it would really really mean a lot to me. All you anonymous blog-stalkers out there - you know who you are, I don't even have statcounter hooked up on this thing, so I can't single you out - but I know you're out there. You can make a donation anonymously if you like. The site is secure, it's quick, goes directly to the MMRF, and there's even a link on it to see if your employer matches charitable gifts. I found out that mine does by searching the database myself, and they even give the contact person of who to email for matching funds!
If you can't click on the link, here you go - no excuse! www.active.com/donate/2009MarineCorps/mollypants
If I get good response, I'll even post more often! See, two days in a row!
Most of all, though, I picked the MMRF because my own Granddad died of the disease. I'm not here to give you a tearjerker campaign, but suffice it to say, I'd really love any support that's out there. Please visit my fundraising site and contribute anything you can - even if it's $10 or whatever - and it would really really mean a lot to me. All you anonymous blog-stalkers out there - you know who you are, I don't even have statcounter hooked up on this thing, so I can't single you out - but I know you're out there. You can make a donation anonymously if you like. The site is secure, it's quick, goes directly to the MMRF, and there's even a link on it to see if your employer matches charitable gifts. I found out that mine does by searching the database myself, and they even give the contact person of who to email for matching funds!
If you can't click on the link, here you go - no excuse! www.active.com/donate/2009MarineCorps/mollypants
If I get good response, I'll even post more often! See, two days in a row!
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Big news: recent revelations about the real estate world.
Soooo...What's up with Molly? I finally have a few minutes, so I'll say hello and share some news that I realized I haven't discussed on here!
BIG NEWS...
No, I'm not pregnant, though everyone seems to be. And no, not getting married, though nothing in this world would make me happier than military discharge papers given to a certain Captain right now. Sidenote: since many have asked - the BF is stationed in California right now, and he ships out for deployment late fall. I kind of don't want to speak too much on a public forum on that, just because I get nervous in case the internet is patrolled by the enemy. I know, highly unlikely that they're reading my babble, but honestly, it scares the sh*t out of me every time I think about any of it. So I'll figure out some way to update y'all without such a public audience.
Anyway. The big news?
I'm likely buying a house soon. I know, you all are like "been there, done that." And Meghan has done it enough for all of us. But yes, after 16 moves over the past 12 years, I'm finally ready to move to some place that I will actually STAY. For at least three years, and hopefully past five. I signed with a real estate agent (a locally-owned small company, thanks to Drena's blog and my own preference for patronizing small businesses), and we've been doing the house-hunting. So far...I've read literally every listing in my price range, and have seen over a dozen in person.
And I don't know how so many people survive this experience. I'm already slammed at work, am running a freaking marathon in 8 weeks, and oh yeah, have to pack UP my current place. I know I'm forgetting something on my to-do list just by sitting here and writing this. Anyway, we saw a few (I'm committed on seeing 50 houses before I start freaking out), and I've figured out a few things:
1. There is absolutely no shortage of really ugly houses for sale in Charlotte, regardless of your price range. I bet you a million dollars that there's a house listed for over a million in Charlotte that has fake wood paneling or a dropped ceiling.
2. Location is everything, and resale value is everything. Especially when your realtor won't even let you out of the car to see a house when a location is THAT bad.
3. "Good" locations are incredibly arbitrary in Charlotte. Case in point: Grier Heights. You can buy a house for $40,000 that's liveable. The area is less than 2 square miles, and is completely surrounded on all 4 sides by Elizabeth, Chantilly, Cotswold and Eastover, which are 4 of the best areas in the city, with prices over $400,000 for a modest bungalow, if you can find one. But it's worse than Fallujah from what I've heard. I wouldn't know, I won't even venture in.
4. I'm REALLY trying to expand my thought. BUT. I am just not a fan of the Ranch/Split-Level/post WWII house. The irony is that all of my friends who live in them - love them. But me...I'm just different. I grew up in a house that was built in 1840. My mom bought the mother-of-all-blights when she split from my dad and then slowly turned it into one of the most unique houses I've ever been in, and my Dad bought 2 downtown rowhouses and restored one to the point that everyone who's EVER seen it thinks it's the most awesome house in Lynchburg. And hell, I lived next door to the workshop of one of Philly's most eclectic artists. All of that? I think I learned a bit of vision and a value of character. I'm trying to use that same vision for the ranch homes, but I dare say it's stretching even my wild imagination. I specifically hired the realtor I did, though, because he's the OTHER, more logical voice I need to hear, the one who will reign me in from creative clouds back down to practical earth. The one that tells me about return on investment, the one that points out asbestos ceiling tiles, and the one who indicates that an area is way worse than it appears. I'm guessing he'll be thinking about how I'm passing on gold mines and he'll inevitably have NO clue why I'll buy the house that I'll end up with, but he's good, and certainly earning his worth via time spent on emails and phone calls alone. My dad's fiancee (a realtor in Virginia) has also answered enough questions of mine that she's probably ready to keel over. I genuinely feel like a complete idiot about something else having to do with this process every day.
5. I'm starting to believe that "For Sale By Owner" means "Realtors wouldn't even take the listing because the Owner believes that it's worth twice what the market data says." I'm amazed at what some of them think their houses are worth.
6. Apparently, North Carolina defines a "bedroom" as a room with a closet and a doorway. It does NOT have to have a window.
7. Charlotte listing agents have a habit of classifying any adjacent bad area of town as "Arts District".
8. No Artists actually seem to LIVE in the Arts District. The Arts District's residents seem to be:
a) Yuppies.
b) Crazy old ladies.
c) Pothead renters.
d) People who were idiotic enough to invest in condos that promised to attract artists simply by calling them "factory lofts" when the only thing "factory" about them is that they were made in assembly line fashion to LOOK like converted factory spaces and renaming the streets for non-renaissance artists in a community called "renaissance".
I fall into category A & B to some extent, but my status as an artist means that I won't actually FIT IN with any of the four. D completely baffles me, however.
9. Meghan is my other voice of reason and for some reason ENJOYS house-shopping. Meghan, if you ever wanted to be a realtor for a living, I'd recommend you to anyone I'd ever meet, I think you've bought enough houses to be a fantastic buyer's agent.
10. On that note, I thought I would LOVE the "shopping" part. But sadly, it's not shopping in the sense that I enjoy it. The only way that it's like shopping for me is that it's like when you are raging on PMS and have to buy a bathing suit in March just after binging on Frito Pie and ice cream - nothing seems to fit, you're trying everything on, you've got a headache, and you're just praying for one to fall into your lap. And when you finally see a glimmer of light and hope, you realize you didn't check the price tag. Ironically, I feel way more confident about the once-I've-found-the-house side of things. Contract and project management. I do those for a living and do them WELL. I know how to negotiate, I know what I'm looking at, I know how to bring two sides together, and I know how to close out a checklist and make sure everything's legal, insured, and done right. I even know how to install faucets, tile bathrooms and deal with Home Depot, for crying out loud. It's the navigating through all the frogs to find the prince that has me stressed out.
But enough of my babble. I have to go running. Please, whatever real estate God is out there - send me a beautiful restored bungalow in my price range in Plaza-Midwood. I'll go to church every day, I'll be kinder, and I'll put more money in the Salvation Army kettle this Christmas.
BIG NEWS...
No, I'm not pregnant, though everyone seems to be. And no, not getting married, though nothing in this world would make me happier than military discharge papers given to a certain Captain right now. Sidenote: since many have asked - the BF is stationed in California right now, and he ships out for deployment late fall. I kind of don't want to speak too much on a public forum on that, just because I get nervous in case the internet is patrolled by the enemy. I know, highly unlikely that they're reading my babble, but honestly, it scares the sh*t out of me every time I think about any of it. So I'll figure out some way to update y'all without such a public audience.
Anyway. The big news?
I'm likely buying a house soon. I know, you all are like "been there, done that." And Meghan has done it enough for all of us. But yes, after 16 moves over the past 12 years, I'm finally ready to move to some place that I will actually STAY. For at least three years, and hopefully past five. I signed with a real estate agent (a locally-owned small company, thanks to Drena's blog and my own preference for patronizing small businesses), and we've been doing the house-hunting. So far...I've read literally every listing in my price range, and have seen over a dozen in person.
And I don't know how so many people survive this experience. I'm already slammed at work, am running a freaking marathon in 8 weeks, and oh yeah, have to pack UP my current place. I know I'm forgetting something on my to-do list just by sitting here and writing this. Anyway, we saw a few (I'm committed on seeing 50 houses before I start freaking out), and I've figured out a few things:
1. There is absolutely no shortage of really ugly houses for sale in Charlotte, regardless of your price range. I bet you a million dollars that there's a house listed for over a million in Charlotte that has fake wood paneling or a dropped ceiling.
2. Location is everything, and resale value is everything. Especially when your realtor won't even let you out of the car to see a house when a location is THAT bad.
3. "Good" locations are incredibly arbitrary in Charlotte. Case in point: Grier Heights. You can buy a house for $40,000 that's liveable. The area is less than 2 square miles, and is completely surrounded on all 4 sides by Elizabeth, Chantilly, Cotswold and Eastover, which are 4 of the best areas in the city, with prices over $400,000 for a modest bungalow, if you can find one. But it's worse than Fallujah from what I've heard. I wouldn't know, I won't even venture in.
4. I'm REALLY trying to expand my thought. BUT. I am just not a fan of the Ranch/Split-Level/post WWII house. The irony is that all of my friends who live in them - love them. But me...I'm just different. I grew up in a house that was built in 1840. My mom bought the mother-of-all-blights when she split from my dad and then slowly turned it into one of the most unique houses I've ever been in, and my Dad bought 2 downtown rowhouses and restored one to the point that everyone who's EVER seen it thinks it's the most awesome house in Lynchburg. And hell, I lived next door to the workshop of one of Philly's most eclectic artists. All of that? I think I learned a bit of vision and a value of character. I'm trying to use that same vision for the ranch homes, but I dare say it's stretching even my wild imagination. I specifically hired the realtor I did, though, because he's the OTHER, more logical voice I need to hear, the one who will reign me in from creative clouds back down to practical earth. The one that tells me about return on investment, the one that points out asbestos ceiling tiles, and the one who indicates that an area is way worse than it appears. I'm guessing he'll be thinking about how I'm passing on gold mines and he'll inevitably have NO clue why I'll buy the house that I'll end up with, but he's good, and certainly earning his worth via time spent on emails and phone calls alone. My dad's fiancee (a realtor in Virginia) has also answered enough questions of mine that she's probably ready to keel over. I genuinely feel like a complete idiot about something else having to do with this process every day.
5. I'm starting to believe that "For Sale By Owner" means "Realtors wouldn't even take the listing because the Owner believes that it's worth twice what the market data says." I'm amazed at what some of them think their houses are worth.
6. Apparently, North Carolina defines a "bedroom" as a room with a closet and a doorway. It does NOT have to have a window.
7. Charlotte listing agents have a habit of classifying any adjacent bad area of town as "Arts District".
8. No Artists actually seem to LIVE in the Arts District. The Arts District's residents seem to be:
a) Yuppies.
b) Crazy old ladies.
c) Pothead renters.
d) People who were idiotic enough to invest in condos that promised to attract artists simply by calling them "factory lofts" when the only thing "factory" about them is that they were made in assembly line fashion to LOOK like converted factory spaces and renaming the streets for non-renaissance artists in a community called "renaissance".
I fall into category A & B to some extent, but my status as an artist means that I won't actually FIT IN with any of the four. D completely baffles me, however.
9. Meghan is my other voice of reason and for some reason ENJOYS house-shopping. Meghan, if you ever wanted to be a realtor for a living, I'd recommend you to anyone I'd ever meet, I think you've bought enough houses to be a fantastic buyer's agent.
10. On that note, I thought I would LOVE the "shopping" part. But sadly, it's not shopping in the sense that I enjoy it. The only way that it's like shopping for me is that it's like when you are raging on PMS and have to buy a bathing suit in March just after binging on Frito Pie and ice cream - nothing seems to fit, you're trying everything on, you've got a headache, and you're just praying for one to fall into your lap. And when you finally see a glimmer of light and hope, you realize you didn't check the price tag. Ironically, I feel way more confident about the once-I've-found-the-house side of things. Contract and project management. I do those for a living and do them WELL. I know how to negotiate, I know what I'm looking at, I know how to bring two sides together, and I know how to close out a checklist and make sure everything's legal, insured, and done right. I even know how to install faucets, tile bathrooms and deal with Home Depot, for crying out loud. It's the navigating through all the frogs to find the prince that has me stressed out.
But enough of my babble. I have to go running. Please, whatever real estate God is out there - send me a beautiful restored bungalow in my price range in Plaza-Midwood. I'll go to church every day, I'll be kinder, and I'll put more money in the Salvation Army kettle this Christmas.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Broadview / Brinks Security FAIL
I saw this while at the gym today. Typical scare tactic to get you to buy a security system, but watch closer:
Is it just me, or did that woman and her daughter break the first rule of surviving a horror movie?
NEVER RUN UPSTAIRS WHEN SOMEONE IS CHASING YOU.
Run out the back door from which you just came in, lady. And don't look behind you as you're running.
Who was the marketing genius who greenlighted this ad?
Is it just me, or did that woman and her daughter break the first rule of surviving a horror movie?
NEVER RUN UPSTAIRS WHEN SOMEONE IS CHASING YOU.
Run out the back door from which you just came in, lady. And don't look behind you as you're running.
Who was the marketing genius who greenlighted this ad?
TRYING to post more
I don't really have that much to talk about - just working, running, sleeping, eating. I'm like a not-so-well-oiled machine. Since the running is the only thing I HAVE the control over, it's the actual least of my worries these days. I'm running the 10-miler in my hometown on September 28, but I have to figure some stuff out - my schedule says I'm supposed to run 14 that day. The last thing I'll do after crossing the finish line is go run 4 more. 'Specially in the area where the finish line is. Who knows. Anyway, since I don't have much to post about, here's something I stole from Lora Lee.
1. What kind of SOAP is in your bathtub right now?
-A soap from a gift basket from a place in Lynchburg called the Farm Basket. I think my mom gave it to me. It's supposedly margarita-flavored.
2. Do you have watermelon in your refrigerator?
-No. Never bought it in my life, now that I think about it.
3. What would you change about your living room?
-I'd definitely like to paint it, and find a way to make it not one big room. If I buy the house, I'd like to block off half and use it as a sunroom, maybe put my studio in there so clients can feel like it's more professional-looking.
4. Are the dishes in your dishwasher clean or dirty?
-Clean. Pressed Play this morning on my way out the door.
5. What is in your fridge?
-Milk, ketchup, salad dressing, leftover Buffalo Chicken Lasagna, baloney, cheese, and a couple bagels. Not a whole lot.
6. White or wheat bread?
-Yeah, here's where I'm supposed to say wheat. But I was jealous of white bread kids as a kid. So I buy white. Usually the enriched kind though.
7. What is on top of your refrigerator?
-Nothing. I hate having stuff up there and have gotten in the habit of dusting it religiously.
8. What color or design is on your shower curtain?
-Black and white damask.
9. How many plants are in your home?
-Zero. Never been a houseplant person.
10. Is your bed made right now?
-Yes. Gotten better at that too.
11. Comet or Soft Scrub?
-I use that foaming bathroom cleaner.
12. Is your closet organized?
-Actually yes. Not in color order or anything, but all of the hangers match, like items are together, and shoes are all in boxes. Best investment I ever made for my clothes, and it helps with a small closet.
13. Can you describe your flashlight?
-Blue Maglite that can be used as a weapon. It stays near my bed in case the boogeyman gets me.
14. Do you drink out of glass or plastic most of the time at home?
-Glass, I only have a few plastic cups after the great college cup purge.
15. Do you have iced tea made in a pitcher right now?
-No. I actually didn't even drink it until recently, despite being from the South. I drink the snapple stuff or unsweetened tea. Personally, seems like sweet tea would rot your teeth, so I've never really indulged the development of a taste for it.
16. If you have a garage, is it cluttered?
-I do not have a garage, but I do have a storage shed. Not cluttered anymore. It was a wreck when my roommate moved out and I thought someone had robbed it or something. So I took a Saturday and organized it.
17. Curtains or blinds?
-Blinds. Working on the curtains if I stay here.
18. How many pillows do you sleep with?
-At least 2.
19. Do you sleep with any lights on at night?
-No, I'm a dark sleeper.
20. How often do you vacuum?
-At least once a week. I love my dyson.
21. Standard toothbrush or electric?
-I love my sonicare even more.
22. What color is your toothbrush?
-White.
23. Do you have a welcome mat on your front porch?
-yes, but it's going in the trash if my old roomie doesn't want to reclaim it - it's waterlogged from rain.
24. What is in your oven right now?
-Nothing. Finally in a place where I don't have to use it for storage.
25. Is there anything under your bed?
-Boxes, my belts (in a box), flipflops, hangers and some winter clothes.
26. Chore you hate doing the most?
-Putting away laundry.
27. What retro items are in your home?
-some antique dressers, my grandmother's easel, some old ads from a 1890's fashion magazine.
28. Do you have a separate room that you use as an office?
-Technically, yes. It's my studio.
29. How many mirrors are in your home?
-3 including the one in the bathroom, but one is old and isn't really that great.
30. Do you have any hidden emergency money around your home?
-only the change jar. I don't like keeping money in the house. Leftover from a roommate I had once that stole from me.
31. What color are your walls?
-Renter's white. Trying to cure that.
32. Do you keep any kind of protection weapons in your home?
-The flashlight. The dog has a mean nasty bark as well. Thinking about at least learning how to use a gun because I've never touched one and am really scared of them.
33. What does your home smell like right now?
-Nothing. I don't like potpourri or overly-scented things. I aim for the neutralizers.
34. Favorite candle scent?
-See above. But there was one called Napa Valley Harvest that I dug for a while from illuminations. Which has since closed down.
35. What kind of pickles (if any) are in your refrigerator right now?
-None, I HATE pickles.
36. What color is your favorite Bible?
-I don't own one, though I might buy one soon just because I've never read it from a perspective of where it wasn't in connection with a church. I'd actually like to read it as if it's a historical textbook. Yes, nerd doesn't even begin to describe me.
37. Ever been on your roof?
-No, but I need to, the gutters need cleaning.
38. Do you own a stereo?
-one of those ipod docks, which I need to get rid of. The iPhone doesn't work with it, dammit.
39. How many TVs do you have?
-One. Never gets used. I watch stuff on the computer 99% of the time.
40. How many house phones?
-Zero. Haven't had a house phone since I lived in Atlanta.
41. Do you have a housekeeper?
-No, but if I buy this house and keep this job, definitely investing in one once a week.
42. What style do you decorate in?
-Artsy but never whimsical. Can't stand whimsical. I like really funky and unusual things, but in a semi-classic way. Put it this way - it's like asking someone to define porn. I just know it when I see it.
43. Do you like solid colors in furniture or prints?
-My couch's slipcover is printed. I guess I prefer to mix prints. It gets interesting that way. Don't want my house to look like every OTHER house.
44. Is there a smoke detector in your home?
-One in every room, the law in rentals in NC.
45. In case of fire, what are the items in your house which you’d grab if you only could make one quick trip?
-The dog would probably be out the door already or following me, so I wouldn't have to grab him, so....I don't know. If I had to...probably pictures, maybe my computer. If I could get it out the door, my easel. Artwork from OTHER artists. Maybe paintings, but half the time I hate looking at my own art, so I'd probably let them burn. Then...I don't know. It's just stuff. Took me a long time, but that's honestly how I feel about it now. Stuff comes and goes, and I've never lamented the loss of any material possession for long. It would give me a nice chance to regroup and I'd be blessed with a new-found absence of clutter. I know, how zen of me. Go ahead and hit me upside the head.
1. What kind of SOAP is in your bathtub right now?
-A soap from a gift basket from a place in Lynchburg called the Farm Basket. I think my mom gave it to me. It's supposedly margarita-flavored.
2. Do you have watermelon in your refrigerator?
-No. Never bought it in my life, now that I think about it.
3. What would you change about your living room?
-I'd definitely like to paint it, and find a way to make it not one big room. If I buy the house, I'd like to block off half and use it as a sunroom, maybe put my studio in there so clients can feel like it's more professional-looking.
4. Are the dishes in your dishwasher clean or dirty?
-Clean. Pressed Play this morning on my way out the door.
5. What is in your fridge?
-Milk, ketchup, salad dressing, leftover Buffalo Chicken Lasagna, baloney, cheese, and a couple bagels. Not a whole lot.
6. White or wheat bread?
-Yeah, here's where I'm supposed to say wheat. But I was jealous of white bread kids as a kid. So I buy white. Usually the enriched kind though.
7. What is on top of your refrigerator?
-Nothing. I hate having stuff up there and have gotten in the habit of dusting it religiously.
8. What color or design is on your shower curtain?
-Black and white damask.
9. How many plants are in your home?
-Zero. Never been a houseplant person.
10. Is your bed made right now?
-Yes. Gotten better at that too.
11. Comet or Soft Scrub?
-I use that foaming bathroom cleaner.
12. Is your closet organized?
-Actually yes. Not in color order or anything, but all of the hangers match, like items are together, and shoes are all in boxes. Best investment I ever made for my clothes, and it helps with a small closet.
13. Can you describe your flashlight?
-Blue Maglite that can be used as a weapon. It stays near my bed in case the boogeyman gets me.
14. Do you drink out of glass or plastic most of the time at home?
-Glass, I only have a few plastic cups after the great college cup purge.
15. Do you have iced tea made in a pitcher right now?
-No. I actually didn't even drink it until recently, despite being from the South. I drink the snapple stuff or unsweetened tea. Personally, seems like sweet tea would rot your teeth, so I've never really indulged the development of a taste for it.
16. If you have a garage, is it cluttered?
-I do not have a garage, but I do have a storage shed. Not cluttered anymore. It was a wreck when my roommate moved out and I thought someone had robbed it or something. So I took a Saturday and organized it.
17. Curtains or blinds?
-Blinds. Working on the curtains if I stay here.
18. How many pillows do you sleep with?
-At least 2.
19. Do you sleep with any lights on at night?
-No, I'm a dark sleeper.
20. How often do you vacuum?
-At least once a week. I love my dyson.
21. Standard toothbrush or electric?
-I love my sonicare even more.
22. What color is your toothbrush?
-White.
23. Do you have a welcome mat on your front porch?
-yes, but it's going in the trash if my old roomie doesn't want to reclaim it - it's waterlogged from rain.
24. What is in your oven right now?
-Nothing. Finally in a place where I don't have to use it for storage.
25. Is there anything under your bed?
-Boxes, my belts (in a box), flipflops, hangers and some winter clothes.
26. Chore you hate doing the most?
-Putting away laundry.
27. What retro items are in your home?
-some antique dressers, my grandmother's easel, some old ads from a 1890's fashion magazine.
28. Do you have a separate room that you use as an office?
-Technically, yes. It's my studio.
29. How many mirrors are in your home?
-3 including the one in the bathroom, but one is old and isn't really that great.
30. Do you have any hidden emergency money around your home?
-only the change jar. I don't like keeping money in the house. Leftover from a roommate I had once that stole from me.
31. What color are your walls?
-Renter's white. Trying to cure that.
32. Do you keep any kind of protection weapons in your home?
-The flashlight. The dog has a mean nasty bark as well. Thinking about at least learning how to use a gun because I've never touched one and am really scared of them.
33. What does your home smell like right now?
-Nothing. I don't like potpourri or overly-scented things. I aim for the neutralizers.
34. Favorite candle scent?
-See above. But there was one called Napa Valley Harvest that I dug for a while from illuminations. Which has since closed down.
35. What kind of pickles (if any) are in your refrigerator right now?
-None, I HATE pickles.
36. What color is your favorite Bible?
-I don't own one, though I might buy one soon just because I've never read it from a perspective of where it wasn't in connection with a church. I'd actually like to read it as if it's a historical textbook. Yes, nerd doesn't even begin to describe me.
37. Ever been on your roof?
-No, but I need to, the gutters need cleaning.
38. Do you own a stereo?
-one of those ipod docks, which I need to get rid of. The iPhone doesn't work with it, dammit.
39. How many TVs do you have?
-One. Never gets used. I watch stuff on the computer 99% of the time.
40. How many house phones?
-Zero. Haven't had a house phone since I lived in Atlanta.
41. Do you have a housekeeper?
-No, but if I buy this house and keep this job, definitely investing in one once a week.
42. What style do you decorate in?
-Artsy but never whimsical. Can't stand whimsical. I like really funky and unusual things, but in a semi-classic way. Put it this way - it's like asking someone to define porn. I just know it when I see it.
43. Do you like solid colors in furniture or prints?
-My couch's slipcover is printed. I guess I prefer to mix prints. It gets interesting that way. Don't want my house to look like every OTHER house.
44. Is there a smoke detector in your home?
-One in every room, the law in rentals in NC.
45. In case of fire, what are the items in your house which you’d grab if you only could make one quick trip?
-The dog would probably be out the door already or following me, so I wouldn't have to grab him, so....I don't know. If I had to...probably pictures, maybe my computer. If I could get it out the door, my easel. Artwork from OTHER artists. Maybe paintings, but half the time I hate looking at my own art, so I'd probably let them burn. Then...I don't know. It's just stuff. Took me a long time, but that's honestly how I feel about it now. Stuff comes and goes, and I've never lamented the loss of any material possession for long. It would give me a nice chance to regroup and I'd be blessed with a new-found absence of clutter. I know, how zen of me. Go ahead and hit me upside the head.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Mothers, turn your children's eyes away. If only because Aunt Molly is extremely vain right now.
No, that's not my butt. And I didn't draw it either, though I wish I did. It's a famous Picasso drawing called "Femme". May not be your taste, and you're probably thinking "um, Oliver/Owen/Charlotte/my newborn could do that" but it's one of my faves purely in it's simplicity. Three lines, yet the subject can instantly be identified even by anyone.Anyway, I post it not because of anything art-related. I'm avoiding putting my vents on here today to give you some happy news. Today, I came home, and like every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, I immediately changed out of my work clothes to get ready for running - if I don't do it right away, I'll talk myself out of it. As I was undressing, I noticed something.
I actually didn't mind my butt.
Seriously, I don't remember once in my LIFE where I thought that. I've looked back at leaner times and thought "I looked way better than I thought I did!", and I know I've never been unfortunate-looking in any department, but my butt and I have had a particularly trying relationship over the years. I don't think I can recall another time when I didn't look in the mirror and think it was either too big or too flat. It was the first of my curves to come in as an awkward teenager, and as any woman knows, it is the body part that's SO hard to get results on, not to mention the fact that jeans shopping alone can put so many people into virtual panic attacks. Even though you won't catch me running around the beach with a thong on any time soon, it was nice to catch a glimpse and go "hey, it's ok-looking!" Maybe it's from age and realizing that I'll NEVER have Elle MacPherson's long legs or Jackie Kennedy's graceful poise, maybe it's from running more, and maybe it's also from the fact that a burned-out lightbulb creates soap-opera-worthy lighting around my mirror.
Butt I'll take it.
Love this idea...
I'm trying to get back into drawing more often for a few reasons:
1. I hate wasting the free time I do have doing stupid stuff like watching entire seasons of horrible TV shows.
2. It's like working out - the longer you're out of it, the harder it is to get back into your form.
3. God, I'm stressed out. I need some sort of reliever. Running only accomplishes so much.
4. I've got all these materials, and they're just cluttering up my space.
5. Drawing is the foundation for painting, and painting is, well, what I'd rather be doing instead of sitting in an office. If I ever expect to start selling again, the only way to accomplish it is to start drawing again.
So I've poked around at how to force myself back into it, and I found this: the 100 drawing challenge. My goal: to post 100 drawings of the following themes. I'll add them as I can and post a link back on here. That is, if I can remember how to edit my website. A friend suggested I sell the drawings for $50 each, but since I have no idea how they'll turn out yet, I'll wait on that.
THE LIST……………………….
1. Introduction
2. Love –
3.Light –
4.Dark
5. Seeking Solace
6. Break Away
7. Heaven
8. Innocence
9. Drive –
10. Breathe Again –
11. Memory –
12. Insanity
13. Misfortune
14. Smile
15. Silence
16. Questioning
17. Blood –
18. Rainbow –
19. Gray –
20. Fortitude
21. Vacation
22. Mother Nature
23. Cat
24. No Time
25. Trouble Lurking
26. Tears
27. Foreign
28. Sorrow
29. Happiness
30. Under the Rain –
31. Flowers
32. Night
33. Expectations
34. Stars –
35. Hold My Hand –
36. Precious Treasure
37. Eyes
38. Abandoned
39. Dreams
40. Rated
41. Teamwork
42. Standing Still
43. Dying
44. Two Roads
45. Illusion
46. Family
47. Creation
48. Childhood
49. Stripes
50. Breaking the Rules
51. Sport
52. Deep in Thought –
53. Keeping a Secret
54. Tower
55. Waiting –
56. Danger Ahead
57. Sacrifice
58. Kick in the Head
59. No Way Out
60. Rejection
61. Fairy Tale
62. Magic
63. Do Not Disturb
64. Multitasking
65. Horror –
66. Traps –
67. Playing the Melody
68. Hero –
69. Annoyance
70. 67%
71. Obsession –
72. Mischief Managed
73. I Can’t
74. Are You Challenging Me?
75. Mirror
76. Broken Pieces –
77. Test
78. Drink
79. Starvation
80. Words –
81. Pen and Paper
82. Can You Hear Me?
83. Heal
84. Out Cold
85. Spiral
86. Seeing Red –
87. Food
88. Pain
89. Through the Fire
90. Triangle –
91. Drowning
92. All That I Have
93. Give Up
94. Last Hope
95. Advertisement –
96. In the Storm
97. Safety First
98. Puzzle
99. Solitude
100. Relaxation
*Note: I copied and pasted this onto a word document a long time ago and since have NO idea where I got it from. If you were the original author of this list, please leave a comment and I'll be happy to credit you. Free drawing to the author.
1. I hate wasting the free time I do have doing stupid stuff like watching entire seasons of horrible TV shows.
2. It's like working out - the longer you're out of it, the harder it is to get back into your form.
3. God, I'm stressed out. I need some sort of reliever. Running only accomplishes so much.
4. I've got all these materials, and they're just cluttering up my space.
5. Drawing is the foundation for painting, and painting is, well, what I'd rather be doing instead of sitting in an office. If I ever expect to start selling again, the only way to accomplish it is to start drawing again.
So I've poked around at how to force myself back into it, and I found this: the 100 drawing challenge. My goal: to post 100 drawings of the following themes. I'll add them as I can and post a link back on here. That is, if I can remember how to edit my website. A friend suggested I sell the drawings for $50 each, but since I have no idea how they'll turn out yet, I'll wait on that.
THE LIST……………………….
1. Introduction
2. Love –
3.Light –
4.Dark
5. Seeking Solace
6. Break Away
7. Heaven
8. Innocence
9. Drive –
10. Breathe Again –
11. Memory –
12. Insanity
13. Misfortune
14. Smile
15. Silence
16. Questioning
17. Blood –
18. Rainbow –
19. Gray –
20. Fortitude
21. Vacation
22. Mother Nature
23. Cat
24. No Time
25. Trouble Lurking
26. Tears
27. Foreign
28. Sorrow
29. Happiness
30. Under the Rain –
31. Flowers
32. Night
33. Expectations
34. Stars –
35. Hold My Hand –
36. Precious Treasure
37. Eyes
38. Abandoned
39. Dreams
40. Rated
41. Teamwork
42. Standing Still
43. Dying
44. Two Roads
45. Illusion
46. Family
47. Creation
48. Childhood
49. Stripes
50. Breaking the Rules
51. Sport
52. Deep in Thought –
53. Keeping a Secret
54. Tower
55. Waiting –
56. Danger Ahead
57. Sacrifice
58. Kick in the Head
59. No Way Out
60. Rejection
61. Fairy Tale
62. Magic
63. Do Not Disturb
64. Multitasking
65. Horror –
66. Traps –
67. Playing the Melody
68. Hero –
69. Annoyance
70. 67%
71. Obsession –
72. Mischief Managed
73. I Can’t
74. Are You Challenging Me?
75. Mirror
76. Broken Pieces –
77. Test
78. Drink
79. Starvation
80. Words –
81. Pen and Paper
82. Can You Hear Me?
83. Heal
84. Out Cold
85. Spiral
86. Seeing Red –
87. Food
88. Pain
89. Through the Fire
90. Triangle –
91. Drowning
92. All That I Have
93. Give Up
94. Last Hope
95. Advertisement –
96. In the Storm
97. Safety First
98. Puzzle
99. Solitude
100. Relaxation
*Note: I copied and pasted this onto a word document a long time ago and since have NO idea where I got it from. If you were the original author of this list, please leave a comment and I'll be happy to credit you. Free drawing to the author.
Monday, August 3, 2009
House woes and Artistic throes...
I feel bad about not posting. Not much going on except work, running and now, the house. What about my house? Well...it's a long story. My cousin had been living with me since late October, and we signed a year-long lease. She had a harder time finding a job than she anticipated, and finally found one with a firm that has her in a territory up to 2 hours away every day. The commute was killing her, so she moved into a house out in one of those random NC counties. Seems good for her, and her company bought out her half of the lease, so her rent is paid here until the lease expires November 1. I thought I had another place lined up, but it fell through and I was having second thoughts anyway - I love having a yard (the new place didn't have one), and I love the old-school charm to this house as well as the awesome location - less than a mile from work. I WANT to stay here, but can't afford it on my own. To top it all off, the landlord REALLY wants to sell the place. I think he anticipated flipping it for a huge profit, then the market just dried up after he had sunk $100k worth of repairs into the place. Beautiful, up-to-date house...but there's a glut of them on the market in Charlotte. I'd buy it myself, but I'm not in a position to do so. So the guy just basically gave the realtor/management company the go-ahead to sell the house at a loss if I don't sign a lease. If I go month-to-month, I risk the rent going up or getting kicked out on my tail at closing if it sells. So I have to look around for another place. It REALLY just stinks. I love this house, and I won't find another fitting my needs so close to work for such a great price. Threw a hail mary pass tonight in desperation, but I don't think I'll be here after November.
Worst part? Well, it's leaving a house that I really like. But the second worst part is that I AM SO SICK OF MOVING. I have moved FIFTEEN TIMES in 13 years. I'm ready to NOT be a nomad for once. Guess it might just take another move.
As Colonel Mustard would say...hauur!
I also started painting again this weekend, which made me realize how much I'll miss having a studio. I've been a bit spoiled with one for the past two years, even if I didn't use it much when I started working corporate again. I'm hoping to use it every day until I move now...just to get my money's worth, I guess. I found this website and it looks interesting. I think I'm going to take the challenge and see what I can get out of it. Won't sell any work, but it'll be interesting to see what comes out. I really like those kinds of assignments, the "variations on a theme" rather than "let's see who can make their painting look exactly like the photograph." Sadly, I'm actually better at making it look like a photograph, so I'm hoping this will expand my repertoire a bit. I've realized that the work I've done where it LEAST looked like a photograph seems to get the most praise...while I don't do it for praise, I think I might heed that kind of direction more in the future.
Worst part? Well, it's leaving a house that I really like. But the second worst part is that I AM SO SICK OF MOVING. I have moved FIFTEEN TIMES in 13 years. I'm ready to NOT be a nomad for once. Guess it might just take another move.
As Colonel Mustard would say...hauur!
I also started painting again this weekend, which made me realize how much I'll miss having a studio. I've been a bit spoiled with one for the past two years, even if I didn't use it much when I started working corporate again. I'm hoping to use it every day until I move now...just to get my money's worth, I guess. I found this website and it looks interesting. I think I'm going to take the challenge and see what I can get out of it. Won't sell any work, but it'll be interesting to see what comes out. I really like those kinds of assignments, the "variations on a theme" rather than "let's see who can make their painting look exactly like the photograph." Sadly, I'm actually better at making it look like a photograph, so I'm hoping this will expand my repertoire a bit. I've realized that the work I've done where it LEAST looked like a photograph seems to get the most praise...while I don't do it for praise, I think I might heed that kind of direction more in the future.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Sad post, but I'm trying for hope...
I normally never ask for these things, but whatever it is you do for a bit of human compassion - prayers, karma, good thoughts, lighting candles, what have you - please take some time and send an extra one out, if you could. I can't get into specifics of who or what, but I found out this weekend that a very dear friend of over ten years is going through a rough time, a rougher time than 90% of us will ever face. It tears my heart to pieces to see it happening, and I'm still quite in shock.
So yes, I'd love it if any of y'all could help with just some positive vibes or whatever it is that you do, and while you're at it, help someone out today that you know is having a tough go at life lately. You never know how much it will be appreciated.
So yes, I'd love it if any of y'all could help with just some positive vibes or whatever it is that you do, and while you're at it, help someone out today that you know is having a tough go at life lately. You never know how much it will be appreciated.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Warning: venting about work WAY too much.
Bonus points if you can find the movie reference in today's post.
I have had exactly zero time lately. My day is like this:
-Hit Snooze.
-Hit Snooze.
-Hit Snooze.
-Hit Snooze.
-Get dressed for work and make it there by 8:30. My company's hours are 8-5, but since I rarely take a lunch, stay late, and I work my arse off, they don't really mind. I'll miss this if I have to go somewhere else, I admit.
-Answer about 50 emails.
-Work until my eyes are starting to burn into the computer.
-Take a 5 minute lunch: vending machine food, something I threw in my bag, or a sandwich from downstairs. Or nothing. All consumed at my desk.
-Check my personal email on my phone. Forward it to my work email if I need to respond.
-Talk to whatever people are screaming at my team that day. I don't take it personally, but I've noticed that the field only calls me when something's REALLY wrong. And then they all let me know.
-Meetings/conference calls.
-Read and possibly answer 50-100 more emails.
-Work again until I look like a "before" picture in a Visine ad.
-Sometime between 5:30 and 7, leave the building.
-Drive home, let the dog out, and change clothes.
-Go running (on the treadmill, since it's too hot)
-Come home, check my personal email, facebook, shower and eat whatever heats up in 90 seconds or less.
-Get in bed. Watch an episode of "How I Met Your Mother"
-Sleep.
Yeah, so that's why 20 minutes to write a blog entry is tough to come by. I can't even go grocery shopping unless its a "rest" day on my running plan. All I can hope for is that SOMEthing gives soon. I had a meeting with my boss on Monday because NO ONE could handle the workload we have right now, and I needed her to just cut me a little slack on some things that she was going to be expecting of me in the future. She agreed, and she asked me about the status of the biggest project I'm on. This is one where I've had to be the bad guy to property managers in 6 states, and I'm getting literally 250 emails a day with URGENT problems that I need to solve NOW. I told my boss the status, and she said she sensed I was stressed and wanted me to be very frank with her, and not to hide how I'm feeling.
CUE MOLLY CRYING. I rarely cry at work. This was an all out UGLY cry. I said I was physically exhausted, I've had one day off in 9 months where I'm not either deathly ill or working from home, and that the expectations are too high - me and one other person are doing what used to be the work of five people, and we have almost double the volume that those five people had. My boss was supportive and said that I was doing a great job and better than any other person they had brought in for my work, and that I needed to go home and get some rest. I did, four hours later after my meeting, and I did feel a bit better just having gotten it out. But I HATE crying at work. I don't, as a rule, do it. It's not professional. But I'm just glad it happened in a conference room, not in front of people. To top it all off, though, I had an outright panic attack on Wednesday because I realized that I couldn't find an email. Yep, it's the little things that push you over the edge! Some days, I'm about thisclose to taking Erin and/or Carrie up on the idea of being a nanny for their kids. While I realize that caring for kids has its own set of stresses and lack of time issues, hey, at least at the end of the day, even if they were sick and crying all day, they go back to their parents. And I think it'd be highly unlikely in that sort of job for Charlotte, Ella or Emma to call me and scream that they have an "EMERGENCY" because, horror of all horrors, the lawn didn't get cut today at a bank branch. I swear, I am convinced that spreadsheets and data analysis workflows were solely created by drug companies trying to push the high-blood pressure and anti-anxiety meds that are necessitated by working with Excel. Anyway, yeah, it's been a rough couple of weeks at work. I'm going to a DG sister's bridal shower tomorrow in Athens, and I'm very excited to see people where I can talk about something OTHER than facilities management.
I promise, more happy posts next time, just had to vent a bit. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a lunch meeting in 20 minutes with Cliff Huxtable at the Four Seasons.
I have had exactly zero time lately. My day is like this:
-Hit Snooze.
-Hit Snooze.
-Hit Snooze.
-Hit Snooze.
-Get dressed for work and make it there by 8:30. My company's hours are 8-5, but since I rarely take a lunch, stay late, and I work my arse off, they don't really mind. I'll miss this if I have to go somewhere else, I admit.
-Answer about 50 emails.
-Work until my eyes are starting to burn into the computer.
-Take a 5 minute lunch: vending machine food, something I threw in my bag, or a sandwich from downstairs. Or nothing. All consumed at my desk.
-Check my personal email on my phone. Forward it to my work email if I need to respond.
-Talk to whatever people are screaming at my team that day. I don't take it personally, but I've noticed that the field only calls me when something's REALLY wrong. And then they all let me know.
-Meetings/conference calls.
-Read and possibly answer 50-100 more emails.
-Work again until I look like a "before" picture in a Visine ad.
-Sometime between 5:30 and 7, leave the building.
-Drive home, let the dog out, and change clothes.
-Go running (on the treadmill, since it's too hot)
-Come home, check my personal email, facebook, shower and eat whatever heats up in 90 seconds or less.
-Get in bed. Watch an episode of "How I Met Your Mother"
-Sleep.
Yeah, so that's why 20 minutes to write a blog entry is tough to come by. I can't even go grocery shopping unless its a "rest" day on my running plan. All I can hope for is that SOMEthing gives soon. I had a meeting with my boss on Monday because NO ONE could handle the workload we have right now, and I needed her to just cut me a little slack on some things that she was going to be expecting of me in the future. She agreed, and she asked me about the status of the biggest project I'm on. This is one where I've had to be the bad guy to property managers in 6 states, and I'm getting literally 250 emails a day with URGENT problems that I need to solve NOW. I told my boss the status, and she said she sensed I was stressed and wanted me to be very frank with her, and not to hide how I'm feeling.
CUE MOLLY CRYING. I rarely cry at work. This was an all out UGLY cry. I said I was physically exhausted, I've had one day off in 9 months where I'm not either deathly ill or working from home, and that the expectations are too high - me and one other person are doing what used to be the work of five people, and we have almost double the volume that those five people had. My boss was supportive and said that I was doing a great job and better than any other person they had brought in for my work, and that I needed to go home and get some rest. I did, four hours later after my meeting, and I did feel a bit better just having gotten it out. But I HATE crying at work. I don't, as a rule, do it. It's not professional. But I'm just glad it happened in a conference room, not in front of people. To top it all off, though, I had an outright panic attack on Wednesday because I realized that I couldn't find an email. Yep, it's the little things that push you over the edge! Some days, I'm about thisclose to taking Erin and/or Carrie up on the idea of being a nanny for their kids. While I realize that caring for kids has its own set of stresses and lack of time issues, hey, at least at the end of the day, even if they were sick and crying all day, they go back to their parents. And I think it'd be highly unlikely in that sort of job for Charlotte, Ella or Emma to call me and scream that they have an "EMERGENCY" because, horror of all horrors, the lawn didn't get cut today at a bank branch. I swear, I am convinced that spreadsheets and data analysis workflows were solely created by drug companies trying to push the high-blood pressure and anti-anxiety meds that are necessitated by working with Excel. Anyway, yeah, it's been a rough couple of weeks at work. I'm going to a DG sister's bridal shower tomorrow in Athens, and I'm very excited to see people where I can talk about something OTHER than facilities management.
I promise, more happy posts next time, just had to vent a bit. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a lunch meeting in 20 minutes with Cliff Huxtable at the Four Seasons.
Friday, June 19, 2009
My week in tweets...
I'm awful. I know. I admit it. I also haven't called my mother nearly as often as I should, I've fallen asleep while on the phone with my boyfriend, I missed my brother's graduation, and my dog pretty much thinks I'm dead. I have no time because I'm working to keep a job I don't even have. I'm sorry. I don't deserve you as friends.
If you want to hear more of me, you can follow me on twitter, I'm @itsmolly. I'm also on facebook with the new vanity name www.facebook.com/mollypants.
Speaking of, a few things I've tweeted lately...my thoughts at the moment, in 140 characters or less:
1. Sold a painting for the first time since September. Is this a sign that the economy is on the rebound? Lord I hope so.
-Yes. Just to a coworker, but it counts, right? She said she wants one in particular, but since I'm not destitute for once, I might just trade her for a piece of her artwork (she's also an artist, probably why we get along so well), because I'm committed to never buying a mass-produced item to grace my walls. It's either my art or original art, no posters, no prints unless direct from a photographer. Good policy, in my opinion.
2. Any natural towheads have advice on mascara? Most only sell it in black or dark brown and it makes me look like a total hooker.
-For real. I have - yes, I swear - naturally blonde eyelashes. I hate the way mascara looks on me because they don't make it for my skin/eyelash tone. Still lost on this one.
3. "First they ignore you, then they ridicule you, then they fight you, then you win." -Gandhi. Wear green tomorrow. #iranelection
I'm amazed at the effect that twitter has had on the Iran election situation. It makes me happy to see people fighting for their freedom within the system set up for them. I feel horrible for the protestors - Iran is a very educated, prosperous and successful country, so these people really do have a lot to lose by protesting - but they are ruled by tyrants in a backward political system that restricts free speech. I can't tell you how fascinated I've been with how Iranian students and citizens have fought internet shutdowns, banding together to pass eyewitness observations, accounts, photographs and videos of what's happening. All through a simple networking device of 140 characters or less. I feel a little happy that people like myself across the world who retweeted news through these one-liners played an important part in it. It's no longer the newspapers of Hearst's era dominating the field, but the Grady school grad in me was rather proud of the changing world of journalism. And yes, I wore green that next day.
4. The Georgia Theater has gone up in flames. Where have you gone, Athens, GA, dawgnation turns its lonely eyes to you...
I can't even talk about how sad the Georgia Theater fire makes me. I can't even watch the news report on it. I absolutely refuse. It's the one train wreck I can't even bring myself to watch. Let's not talk about it, ok?
That's all. It's midnight, I'm sober, and it's Friday night. My eyelids are about as heavy as bowling balls after this work week.
If you want to hear more of me, you can follow me on twitter, I'm @itsmolly. I'm also on facebook with the new vanity name www.facebook.com/mollypants.
Speaking of, a few things I've tweeted lately...my thoughts at the moment, in 140 characters or less:
1. Sold a painting for the first time since September. Is this a sign that the economy is on the rebound? Lord I hope so.
-Yes. Just to a coworker, but it counts, right? She said she wants one in particular, but since I'm not destitute for once, I might just trade her for a piece of her artwork (she's also an artist, probably why we get along so well), because I'm committed to never buying a mass-produced item to grace my walls. It's either my art or original art, no posters, no prints unless direct from a photographer. Good policy, in my opinion.
2. Any natural towheads have advice on mascara? Most only sell it in black or dark brown and it makes me look like a total hooker.
-For real. I have - yes, I swear - naturally blonde eyelashes. I hate the way mascara looks on me because they don't make it for my skin/eyelash tone. Still lost on this one.
3. "First they ignore you, then they ridicule you, then they fight you, then you win." -Gandhi. Wear green tomorrow. #iranelection
I'm amazed at the effect that twitter has had on the Iran election situation. It makes me happy to see people fighting for their freedom within the system set up for them. I feel horrible for the protestors - Iran is a very educated, prosperous and successful country, so these people really do have a lot to lose by protesting - but they are ruled by tyrants in a backward political system that restricts free speech. I can't tell you how fascinated I've been with how Iranian students and citizens have fought internet shutdowns, banding together to pass eyewitness observations, accounts, photographs and videos of what's happening. All through a simple networking device of 140 characters or less. I feel a little happy that people like myself across the world who retweeted news through these one-liners played an important part in it. It's no longer the newspapers of Hearst's era dominating the field, but the Grady school grad in me was rather proud of the changing world of journalism. And yes, I wore green that next day.
4. The Georgia Theater has gone up in flames. Where have you gone, Athens, GA, dawgnation turns its lonely eyes to you...
I can't even talk about how sad the Georgia Theater fire makes me. I can't even watch the news report on it. I absolutely refuse. It's the one train wreck I can't even bring myself to watch. Let's not talk about it, ok?
That's all. It's midnight, I'm sober, and it's Friday night. My eyelids are about as heavy as bowling balls after this work week.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Drena, I've found your next great real estate investment opportunity...
I love this movie so much, I'd probably sell my ovaries to own this house.
Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy
Thursday, June 4, 2009
The Galloway Method...
I found this article today on the New York Times. I was pretty interested in it, given the training I'm in right now, so I decided to give it a try. For those of you who don't know, there's basically two main dudes who are older than dirt that write books on how to run a marathon - Hal Higdon and Jeff Galloway. I already have Hal Higdon's book, and I've gotten some good information from it - schedules, advice on shoes, how to correct your form, and a couple of other things. I hadn't really picked up Galloway's book, but I've always heard people saying things like "are you doing Galloway?" in line at the starts of races I've done. I thought the programs were basically the same, so I stuck with Higdon because, quite frankly, his is easier - run until you feel like you can't, and then walk, and then run when you catch your breath. Galloway's seemed a little more restrictive, but the article today made me wonder.
Here's the premise: you pre-determine intervals when you will walk instead of run, and you walk for a minute WAY before you're actually tired - in fact, EXPERIENCED runners will run a mile, then walk a minute. For EVERY mile.
Sounds like you'd end up with a 7 hour marathon time, but since I've been having some tendonitis, I decided to try it today on the treadmill. Today's run was 3 and a half miles, a good mid-week smaller distance. I normally HATE these runs. I hate them because I basically get bored and then I get winded. I push through the winded-ness, get a final burst of energy, and then almost collapse at the end and don't even want to make it through my cool-down walk.
So I tried it today, and after a 5 minute warm-up walk, I ran my first mile. At the end, I was NOT tired at all, and I almost pushed it to 2 miles before I did my 1 minute walk. I walked, though, and I have to say - I did feel better. I upped the speed on the treadmill and ran the second mile, and then walked the second break. Same thing - I felt a LOT better. I upped the speed a little more for the last full mile and then kept it steady for the last half-mile.
Verdict? I actually ran faster than if I had ran the whole thing. The entire 3.5 mile distance was done in 32 minutes, which is actually a little above a 9:30 pace. I DON'T run at a 9:30 pace. EVER. I was actually pretty shocked. Don't get me wrong - I can NOT keep a 9:30 pace for 26.2 miles, but I think I could do 10 minute miles if I have a one-minute walking break. Even the walking minutes add up, and that shaves a mile off the distance you'll have to run. I like the idea of looking forward to those little walk breaks, and I like that if I HATE running for that particular mile, I only have until the end of the mile til I get to walk again.
I think I'm going to buy the book tomorrow, I was at least glad that I had ONE day where I didn't completely dread my run. I'm still taking it one day at a time, and I like that this breaks it down even further - just finish the next mile.
And now I hate that I spent a ridiculous amount of time talking about running. I am NOT that kind of runner. I hate those people that only talk about running. I must remind you: I am a lazy person. I watch reality TV when I have cable, and I worked out approximately 2 times in 2008. Do not be fooled by the "I'm going to run an ungodly distance in four months" facade. I am still the same lazy, junk-food eating, carb-loving, vegetable-hating, sucking-wind-for-dear-life-when-she-runs-to-get-the-train girl you have always known and loved. Please bear with me until October 26, this will all be over soon enough.
Here's the premise: you pre-determine intervals when you will walk instead of run, and you walk for a minute WAY before you're actually tired - in fact, EXPERIENCED runners will run a mile, then walk a minute. For EVERY mile.
Sounds like you'd end up with a 7 hour marathon time, but since I've been having some tendonitis, I decided to try it today on the treadmill. Today's run was 3 and a half miles, a good mid-week smaller distance. I normally HATE these runs. I hate them because I basically get bored and then I get winded. I push through the winded-ness, get a final burst of energy, and then almost collapse at the end and don't even want to make it through my cool-down walk.
So I tried it today, and after a 5 minute warm-up walk, I ran my first mile. At the end, I was NOT tired at all, and I almost pushed it to 2 miles before I did my 1 minute walk. I walked, though, and I have to say - I did feel better. I upped the speed on the treadmill and ran the second mile, and then walked the second break. Same thing - I felt a LOT better. I upped the speed a little more for the last full mile and then kept it steady for the last half-mile.
Verdict? I actually ran faster than if I had ran the whole thing. The entire 3.5 mile distance was done in 32 minutes, which is actually a little above a 9:30 pace. I DON'T run at a 9:30 pace. EVER. I was actually pretty shocked. Don't get me wrong - I can NOT keep a 9:30 pace for 26.2 miles, but I think I could do 10 minute miles if I have a one-minute walking break. Even the walking minutes add up, and that shaves a mile off the distance you'll have to run. I like the idea of looking forward to those little walk breaks, and I like that if I HATE running for that particular mile, I only have until the end of the mile til I get to walk again.
I think I'm going to buy the book tomorrow, I was at least glad that I had ONE day where I didn't completely dread my run. I'm still taking it one day at a time, and I like that this breaks it down even further - just finish the next mile.
And now I hate that I spent a ridiculous amount of time talking about running. I am NOT that kind of runner. I hate those people that only talk about running. I must remind you: I am a lazy person. I watch reality TV when I have cable, and I worked out approximately 2 times in 2008. Do not be fooled by the "I'm going to run an ungodly distance in four months" facade. I am still the same lazy, junk-food eating, carb-loving, vegetable-hating, sucking-wind-for-dear-life-when-she-runs-to-get-the-train girl you have always known and loved. Please bear with me until October 26, this will all be over soon enough.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Fleas.
I haven't posted about this because I've been secretly hoping that EVERY trick we try will just work so I can tell the whole story from beginning to end. But unfortunately, I can't.
BECAUSE IT WON'T END.
About 3 weeks ago, while at work, I got a rather frantic call from my cousin. She found fleas on her dog. The Colonel gets Frontline religiously, as my hometown is famous for ticks, and by my calculations, he wasn't even due for another week, so obviously I was a little surprised. Colonel Mustard seemed to be okay, but she was going to give both of them a flea bath to keep on the safe side. She went to Target, got drops for her dog as well as the Colonel, some flea shampoo, some home spray and some carpet flea-killer powder. Two hours later, she told me that while she was bathing him, fleas were just pouring off of him. We spent two solid days disinfecting the house, and we thought we'd be okay after that.
Wrong. Within three days, they were back. With a vengeance. We started getting bit, and the dogs weren't even phased by the treatments. Dan was here by then, so he and I took the Colonel to PetSmart and asked some advice of the staff. They recommended Frontline, and told me that the drops that my cousin had bought are basically useless. They didn't sell Frontline at PetSmart, so we bought the stuff that the girl recommended to at least help him out a little. Didn't even touch the buggers. I used the doggie spray, only to discover that Colonel Mustard does NOT like it. The next day, Dan bought the Colonel some Frontline (it's now available without a vet visit in North Carolina, thank GOD), and we tried another round of treatment.
SERIOUSLY, SHOULDN'T THIS BE OVER BY NOW?
Nope. Two weeks after the Frontline dose, I had to give him another. Tonight, I completely COVERED my bedding, my carpets, and everything else that fleabag may have touched with the home spray again, as well as washed everything I could find in scalding hot water and bleach. This weekend, we're going to bug-bomb the house (I don't know WHAT we're going to do for six hours with two dogs to stay out of the house), as well as treat the lawn. I've heard from many sources that the yard is pretty much where they pick them up, and they can latch onto the dog to come inside, then jump off once inside and then jump on whatever untreated host - including humans - they can find. Which is probably why Colonel Mustard isn't scratching, but I've got six or seven bites and a huge case of creepy-crawlies.
So yes, it's still ongoing. Let's hope for a final end to the situation so that I don't die of toxic exposure from all the pesticides I've ingested in the past few weeks. I never knew it til now, but North Carolina is one of the worst states for fleas, and Charlotte's many shade trees make it even worse. Ugh, I just got a chill writing that.
BECAUSE IT WON'T END.
About 3 weeks ago, while at work, I got a rather frantic call from my cousin. She found fleas on her dog. The Colonel gets Frontline religiously, as my hometown is famous for ticks, and by my calculations, he wasn't even due for another week, so obviously I was a little surprised. Colonel Mustard seemed to be okay, but she was going to give both of them a flea bath to keep on the safe side. She went to Target, got drops for her dog as well as the Colonel, some flea shampoo, some home spray and some carpet flea-killer powder. Two hours later, she told me that while she was bathing him, fleas were just pouring off of him. We spent two solid days disinfecting the house, and we thought we'd be okay after that.
Wrong. Within three days, they were back. With a vengeance. We started getting bit, and the dogs weren't even phased by the treatments. Dan was here by then, so he and I took the Colonel to PetSmart and asked some advice of the staff. They recommended Frontline, and told me that the drops that my cousin had bought are basically useless. They didn't sell Frontline at PetSmart, so we bought the stuff that the girl recommended to at least help him out a little. Didn't even touch the buggers. I used the doggie spray, only to discover that Colonel Mustard does NOT like it. The next day, Dan bought the Colonel some Frontline (it's now available without a vet visit in North Carolina, thank GOD), and we tried another round of treatment.
SERIOUSLY, SHOULDN'T THIS BE OVER BY NOW?
Nope. Two weeks after the Frontline dose, I had to give him another. Tonight, I completely COVERED my bedding, my carpets, and everything else that fleabag may have touched with the home spray again, as well as washed everything I could find in scalding hot water and bleach. This weekend, we're going to bug-bomb the house (I don't know WHAT we're going to do for six hours with two dogs to stay out of the house), as well as treat the lawn. I've heard from many sources that the yard is pretty much where they pick them up, and they can latch onto the dog to come inside, then jump off once inside and then jump on whatever untreated host - including humans - they can find. Which is probably why Colonel Mustard isn't scratching, but I've got six or seven bites and a huge case of creepy-crawlies.
So yes, it's still ongoing. Let's hope for a final end to the situation so that I don't die of toxic exposure from all the pesticides I've ingested in the past few weeks. I never knew it til now, but North Carolina is one of the worst states for fleas, and Charlotte's many shade trees make it even worse. Ugh, I just got a chill writing that.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Biting off more than I could chew?
Possibly what I did this weekend. I bit off way more than I could chew.
I have talked about how I've been trying to run and train for the marathon, and I've been doing it over time so that I can get used to it. Since Dan has been here, I haven't been as good as maybe I should have been when it comes to running. I have slacked off a few days, but I haven't let myself get down about it. Every day I've skipped, we've been doing an intensely physical activity outside. We went rock-climbing twice, we took VERY long walks, we canoed huge portions of a river. So I haven't gotten too much running in. However, when we were planning our weekend, I mentioned that I really wanted to go back to Asheville. We loved it in the winter, had so much fun, and both of us talked about going back in the spring. Dan found out that there was a race in Asheville on Saturday, and we decided to get a hotel room on the Friday night before the race.
When we went to dinner on Friday night, Dan and I had agreed that he was going to do the ten-miler, and I was going to do the 5k. I've never done ten miles before, and this race was supposedly really hilly. After a glass of wine, though, I decided that I would be mad if I did a measly 5K and he did ten miles. So I said I would do the ten miler, and we both agreed that we didn't care about our times.
Saturday morning proved to be a difficult morning. I woke up not feeling well, and I will spare the details. Put it this way: the person who emailed me (and will remain nameless) to suggest Immodium before a race? Yes, they are correct. I took one, and during the race I was fine, but I was NOT fine until about a half hour before. My running partner did not feel well either. We got bagels and coffee, though, and we got on the road. We registered for the race all of ten minutes before the start time, and we finally started running at 9 am.
Let me tell you: when I heard of the course as "hilly", they WERE NOT KIDDING. The first FIVE MILES was a SOLID CLIMB. The second was a steady descent. This sounds great, but don't tell that to my joints. It HURTS to run downhill for a long time. I really did HORRIBLY in the race. I didn't finish last and it was a really small field to begin with, but I was CLOSE to last. I mean REALLY close. But I finished. All ten miles. Roughly a 3500 foot climb, up and then down. I noticed that the race was sponsored by the local hospital and wanted to voluntarily check in and have my feet amputated.
All in all, however, we had a great time once the race was done. We went to the outdoor sports festival and quickly left once we realized that we could not find any non-vegetarian food. Hey, it is Asheville, hippies are everywhere. We had a rather large post-race meal downtown, and then felt no guilt when we drank lots of beer at a couples baby shower we were invited to in Charlotte last night.
So yes, I bit off more than I could chew at the race. Still made it through (with a few walking periods) but I'm hurting a lot today. Taking today and monday off, then it's back to my 2 mile run on Tuesday. Ugh, I am not looking forward to that at ALL.
I have talked about how I've been trying to run and train for the marathon, and I've been doing it over time so that I can get used to it. Since Dan has been here, I haven't been as good as maybe I should have been when it comes to running. I have slacked off a few days, but I haven't let myself get down about it. Every day I've skipped, we've been doing an intensely physical activity outside. We went rock-climbing twice, we took VERY long walks, we canoed huge portions of a river. So I haven't gotten too much running in. However, when we were planning our weekend, I mentioned that I really wanted to go back to Asheville. We loved it in the winter, had so much fun, and both of us talked about going back in the spring. Dan found out that there was a race in Asheville on Saturday, and we decided to get a hotel room on the Friday night before the race.
When we went to dinner on Friday night, Dan and I had agreed that he was going to do the ten-miler, and I was going to do the 5k. I've never done ten miles before, and this race was supposedly really hilly. After a glass of wine, though, I decided that I would be mad if I did a measly 5K and he did ten miles. So I said I would do the ten miler, and we both agreed that we didn't care about our times.
Saturday morning proved to be a difficult morning. I woke up not feeling well, and I will spare the details. Put it this way: the person who emailed me (and will remain nameless) to suggest Immodium before a race? Yes, they are correct. I took one, and during the race I was fine, but I was NOT fine until about a half hour before. My running partner did not feel well either. We got bagels and coffee, though, and we got on the road. We registered for the race all of ten minutes before the start time, and we finally started running at 9 am.
Let me tell you: when I heard of the course as "hilly", they WERE NOT KIDDING. The first FIVE MILES was a SOLID CLIMB. The second was a steady descent. This sounds great, but don't tell that to my joints. It HURTS to run downhill for a long time. I really did HORRIBLY in the race. I didn't finish last and it was a really small field to begin with, but I was CLOSE to last. I mean REALLY close. But I finished. All ten miles. Roughly a 3500 foot climb, up and then down. I noticed that the race was sponsored by the local hospital and wanted to voluntarily check in and have my feet amputated.
All in all, however, we had a great time once the race was done. We went to the outdoor sports festival and quickly left once we realized that we could not find any non-vegetarian food. Hey, it is Asheville, hippies are everywhere. We had a rather large post-race meal downtown, and then felt no guilt when we drank lots of beer at a couples baby shower we were invited to in Charlotte last night.
So yes, I bit off more than I could chew at the race. Still made it through (with a few walking periods) but I'm hurting a lot today. Taking today and monday off, then it's back to my 2 mile run on Tuesday. Ugh, I am not looking forward to that at ALL.
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