Gym

I joined a gym today. I had better keep this up.

I was hesitant to join because I loath gym rats. Ironically, as I was leaving this guy was also leaving and started chatting me up. I mean, really? I'm at the gym to exercise, not get picked up by some random dude. Well, whatever, at least he wasn't particularly unattractive.

You're Not the Boss of Me

My boss got home from foreign parts today. I'm no longer the boss of anybody. Bittersweet? Maybe just a little.

Interpersonal Communication

Evidence that I may use my blog to keep my family updated on my life can best be summed up in the following story.

I was talking to Midge about nothing in general when she mentioned InternBill. This wouldn't be notable, except she called him "InternBill" as opposed to my nickname for him. I corrected her and she said, "Oh, I thought InternBill is what you call him on your blog."

Sigh.

Safe!

I've come to the conclusion that I'm "safe". Boys like to flirt with me (and flirt they do) because, for whatever reason, I'm "safe" to flirt with. They don't seem to worry that I'll ever take what they're saying seriously enough to be problematic. So, I've decided to shake thinks up a bit: I'm going to stop being safe. I only hope it doesn't cost me friendships.

Nanny's Wedding

Nanny is getting married on Saturday. To a guy from a foreign country. That she met online. And, she's moving to Europe right after the wedding because of his work.

Frankly, he's not a very nice guy, and her old roommates have observed that she's not herself when he's around. I don't know if she knows who "she" is, but perhaps who she acts like when she's around him is the true Nanny. Maybe not. Hopefully she figures it out, and soon.

I'm very very very concerned that she's just in love with being in love and married, and is jumping at the second guy who has ever asked her (she was, apparently, engaged to the first guy, but he broke it off).

Unfortunately, none of her close friends can/will tell her those things. Why? Because they're all in love with the idea of being married, as well. I guess they can't see past the need to not be single.

But, who am I to talk? Heck, I'll probably marry the first guy to seriously ask me, so, there we are. Hopefully it's not just because he is convenient.

Final Concert of the Season

I noticed last night that the last concert in my symphony season I have tickets for is InternBill's favorite composer, so I asked him today when he gets back in town. It just so happens that he starts work the Monday before the Friday concert. So, I asked him to join me. He was quite excited. Fun times.

I seriously need to get over my infatuation with the boy. Emphasis on boy. Oh well.

The Story

When we were in high school RedRat and I took turns writing a story. We'd each write a page or a paragraph and then hand off what we had composed. Two years, and 47 pages later, our story was unfinished when we ceased writing. Last night I was looking for my old poetry notebook and stumbled upon the folder in which I stored our story. I've decided to type it and send her a copy. Perhaps I'll even clean it up and make the voice non-teenage girl.

Honestly, it would be really fun to take up the story exchange again.

4 Words and a Color

When I was in high school I used to write poetry. Lots and lots of poetry. Sometimes I wouldn't be able to come up with something, so a friend and I developed the ultimate unblocking technique: we would exchange papers, then write on the top of the new page five words. One of these words had to be a color, and (if I recall correctly) one had to be an action. Upon receiving our original page back we then had to write a poem using all of the words supplied. It made for some interesting poetry. And, was actually quite fun.

Now, I'm faced with a blank canvas, so I come to you, my dears: give me 4 words and a color, pretty please.

Stupid Lease

Well, I love my apartment so much that I decided to suck it up and pay the new and improved raised rent.

I wish I were more concerned about saving money than I am.

That One Song

I was listening to the radio today when a familiar song came on. I knew I had seen someone singing it recently (like in a movie, or perhaps the video), but I just couldn't place it. I just looked it up. Turns out I had more than seen the video—the band played at my company holiday party, and I had see it preformed live.

It's just as silly on the radio as it was live. But, kind of fun to hear it on the radio.

I Wanna Be Like You-ou-ou

Mumsy got laid off yesterday. Always hard, and always a blow to the ego. It's hard to believe that it's been 2 1/2 years since I got laid off. As I see her facing this I can offer only the advice that worked for me: Take a week off. Mope. Cry and sleep in late. Then, pick yourself up and figure out what you're going to do about that. After allowing myself a week to mope I was able to get my head on straight and tackle all the things that I had put off, get those done, and then get down to the business of finding me a job.

Mostly, though, I just chatted with her. As we were talking she said something that I don't think she realizes how much it means to me. She said, "I'd like to take the opportunity to REALLY work on my painting. I am a craftsperson, and I'd like to be an artist. Like you."

We all have these images of ourselves, who we view ourselves to be, and how we like to mentally portray ourselves. I still have a hard time describing myself to others as an artist. Why? I don't know. Maybe it's because it comes so easily for me—I don't really have to work for it. Maybe it's because I haven't sold anything (well, two paintings, but they are both to the same guy, so do they really count?). Maybe it's because I've never had a show. I don't really know what it is, but it's there. Others describe me as an artist, and I let them, but sometimes I have a hard time describing myself as such. Having my mother say to me, about me, that she views me as an artist, and she aspires to that, well, let's just say, that's a compliment I couldn't have asked for.

Best Friends Forever

I was talking with a buddy of mine on Wednesday. Another friend came over and said, "Hey, Granola. I met your friend 'Little' the other day in Bellevue."

"Little? Does he have a last name?"

Our exchange went back and forth, him telling me slight more each time, hardly enough to figure out who on earth he was talking about. Then he said, "He just said, 'Oh, do you know my good friend Granola Girl?'"

I started feeling terrible. Who do I know who would describe me as a 'good friend'? Then it occurred to me, "Kind of dorking looking?"

"I dunno. I guess."

"Does he have a lizard?"

"Yes."

"Oh!" I exclaimed with triumph, "LittleBrother! I never call him 'Little,' that threw me all off!"

Turns out my work buddy is drinking buddies with LittleBrother's roommate. Small, small world.

Then YOU Figure It Out

The annoying woman at work (I shall call her: LaBoca—Spanish for 'The Mouth', you'll remember her from such posts as this, and this) has struck again.

This week has been a scheduling nightmare. We've started a new time tracking process at work which involves a daily stand-up meeting. LaBoca wanted to make sure that everyone got to the meetings on time so, in the middle of a completely unrelated meeting, she announced, "By the way, we're going to have a pay-if-you're-late rule. You pay a dollar for every 5 minutes you're late to the meeting."

I detest negative reinforcement, especially because there's so much negativity anyway, so I said, "Can we not? I hate negative reinforcement, we're all adults, we can handle getting to meetings on time." We tabled that discussion because it had nothing to do with the meeting at hand, but after the meeting it came back to haunt me. "What do we do when people are late to the meeting?" she demanded. "We're wasting people's time, and we don't have a lot of it to waste."

"Well," I said, revisiting my earlier point, "we're all adults, let's see if we can handle it like adults. If a problem arises and people are late, then we can readdress the payment thing. But, let's try it without for a while."

"When does it become a problem, Granola? After once? Twice? A week? When does it become a problem, Granola?"

"When a pattern starts emerging. I don't know exactly when that is, but I think we shouldn't jump straight to the negative reinforcement."

"Well, when is it too much? You know what, you figure it out, Granola and tell me." With that, she stormed out. Yeah, I'll do just that. Beyotch.

This seems to be her usual methodology, getting defensive and telling people to figure it out, and in all their brilliance let her know what they've come up with. Said in her condescending tone, it's amazing she isn't more popular.

Patience is a Virtue

One of my coworkers has a tenancy to get a little loud (where by 'a little' I mean: she has no volume control), and she's quite condescending.

Friday morning one of my friends dropped by my desk, visibly upset. "I feel like crap, she yelled at me, I'm going home," he announced, flipping me off vicariously for her, and walked out the door. Later, once he got home and cooled off a bit, I talked to him about it. This particular coworker is his manager, and he did something outside of normal procedure, so rather than correcting him, she yelled. Well, that's the story he told me.

That afternoon she "called me into her office" to talk about the problem, "Did he say anything to you when he left?" She wanted to know.

"Yeah, he said he didn't feel well, and that you yelled at him, and he was quite upset, so he left," I tactfully omitted the bird.

"I didn't yell at him," she claimed, defending her honor. Not that I much care, and, frankly, I believe him over her when it comes to this. Then, she started to ask me a series of tangentially related questions, which I answered, trying to not be annoyed at her tone. "Do you think this is yelling?" she asked after a bit. "Because this is exactly how I talked to him."

I told her she has a tenancy to get a bit loud, and perhaps that was the issue, I really didn't know.

The conversation dragged on, then she said, "Oh, and by the way, I've noticed a lot of people sitting around talking, and not getting any work done. You're a lead now, so..."

"You mean the afternoon brain break?" I asked, making mention to our daily 15-30 minute break that usually involves four of us: her specifically not included.

"I don't know what time it is, I never paid attention, but people have been missing a lot of deadlines and don't have a lot of time to waste."

"Well, manager or not, I fully support a 15 minute break in the afternoon. We need it to get re-focused and recharge to finish the day."

The conversation finished, and I went back to my desk. Later she stopped by and magnanimously clarified, "Just so you know, Granola, I wasn't saying I think people shouldn't take breaks. I'm find with 15 minute breaks, just limit it to that." Then she walked away.

Oh, yeah, I need patience, lots and lots of patience.

Playing Boss

My boss is away for the entire month of February, and possibly into March. Until he gets back I get to play boss.

This comes will all sorts of fun things, including (but not limited to) meetings. I've been in meetings for nearly a week. I don't know how managers get anything accomplished. I have tasks laid out before me that I haven't been able to get to because I'm running between meetings.

It has been kind of fun, though.

O Canada

I went to Canada over the weekend. Had a blast! I think I'll probably go up with InternBill this summer when he comes. He'd like that, and so would I.

Get Me to the Church on Time

Lurch is getting married. In April. They finally got engaged.

Wheeee!!

Lump

I have an abnormal lump growing on the inside of my nostril. It's slightly painful and mostly unpleasant. I have to go to the doctor. Sooo much fun. This'll be an interesting appointment:
Hey, doc, about this nose thing?
Oh, also, can I get a shot, preparing for my trip, you know.

Joys.

Large and In Charge

My boss left to India (pleasure, not business) for 4-6 weeks. It will probably be 4. He said possibly 6 if he manages to find a girl to marry, but her family can't get a wedding together in that short amount of time. He thinks the extra 2 weeks will be sufficient. I think he's nuts. (And, yes, they still do arranged marriages, but it's a bit different—he asked his family to find him a wife. Um, yeah. Cool.)

Guess who gets to play boss in his absence? Oh! You're so good at this game! Yup. Moi. It should be fun. So far it's been 2 days.

On Thursday my coworker stopped by my desk for the 3 o'clock time waster, "Wait," he asked, "Now that you're the boss does that mean I can't stop by and waste time here anymore?"

"Nah, go right ahead. Our boss does."

It's going to be an interesting month.

Desserter?

It's not that I don't love you: It's that I've been working really really really long weeks.

Oh, and house hunting.

I decided to buy a house, but on Thursday I undecided. Or, rather, I decided to not buy a house. I haven't told my Realtor yet (who, by the by, is flipping awesome!). So many things to do, so little time. So, here's just a short: nope, not dead yet! post.

The end.