Riding the Bike with One Pedal.

Category: stress (Page 4 of 5)

Only Three Days, But It Felt Like Twelve….

Lordy.

What a week. You’d think I was the chief salt miner with a hunnert paper cuts or something, but chef-boy-ar-dee, this was the longest short week, ever.

I was so utterly drained by the end of the day today, I actually went out for a drink with co-workers.

I never go out for a drink.

I expect things will normalize a bit once we’re all back in the swing of regular work weeks, and I even said how badly I need a routine, so this kvetching about my hard knock life should abate pretty soon.

Now I’m going to crash – I was God’s little crabapple today, and I’d like to wake up … different…. tomorrow. Maybe a pear, or a bowl of cherries. Happy, happy weekend. May the fruit be with you.

The Reflex

What I’m going to write about isn’t :that: serious. It isn’t like Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome, where a soldier comes home from war. Or even being in a serious accident. But I opened up one of my numerous marketing emails today (having deleted all the ones that arrived over the holidays, because seriously, I would not be able to get anything done if I just read the daily news.) And there, the first article in the summary email, was a little write up about how a former client of mine (at an old job) was relaunching their brand and their new spokesperson and blah blah blah blah, and ordinarily I read that stuff with some interest, maybe click through, whatevs, jobs and clients do ebb and flow, come and go, and while I try my darndest to come up with a revolutionary idea on all my accounts, sometimes you just part ways. Like people you dated in college. But this client? This client scarred me.

This was a piece of business that seemed fantastic and exciting and wonderful and it was quickly discovered to be a shiny thin veneer of 24k gold that belied an evil below the surface, a tar baby of a project, that required vast amounts of atypical work and unreasonable deadlines. This would be when I worked under the person who habitually disappeared for hours (or the rest of the day) and basically did as little work as possible while making life hell for everyone under her. So as I describe this, know that I was out there at the edge of the plank already, unsupported and alone.

The project involved trading trips for advertising. With very little cash, mostly trade. If you’ve ever worked on trade, you have already flinched a little yourself. But we’re talking certificates beyond just “you can stay here for 4 nights”. This involved airfare (they had their own airline service), and then free nights at one of several hotels/resorts. The value of each resort was different. The value of the airfare was different from each departing city. There were – oh god, I’ve blanked so much out – maybe 17 markets? And we entered into trade agreements with every cable system in each market, parsing out packages and flights and oh, did I mention they had expiration dates, too? and it was all in exchange for advertising time. And the client changed their needs, expectations, and mind every other day.

This project required multiple daily conversations with my national cable sales rep, Joe. Joe and I were the lone paddlers in this boat, because at this point, not only did nobody else want to touch it, nobody else could even do it, what with the elaborate spreadsheets and our Rain-Man-esque ability to calculate various configurations of resort stays and flights from all the different cities. Our friendship was seared and sealed in the blood, sweat and tears we shed working on this project. We found our own strange coping mechanisms – singing, using funny voices (he does a Gay Cuban like nobody’s business). One of the markets was Miami, and when he would call about issues in that market, he was always starting out with the MY JAMMIES, We have to figure out MY JAMMIES, Chennifer. Oh god. It was just brutal. I altered a poster of the movie Waterboy to have his face on it and renamed the movie “BarterBoy” and it hung on his door for the rest of his tenure with that company.

So of course, when I found myself seeing my client’s name in print, and caught myself reflexively wincing and moving my head sideways away from the screen?

I sent him the article immediately.

I wish we’d never had to go through that hell, but I know one thing for certain. He will be my friend until death. We were In Country together and we got out alive. I’m still blinking a little bit, just traveling down memory lane. But smiling, too, because we at least found a way to survive, together, and get some laughs in – because there was no other choice except to cry, and it all kind of fits with where I’m trying to put my head in 2008. To be happier. To be less sad. To manage the Very Large Pain that has stayed with me, to laugh more than cry. I’m not exactly sure how to do it yet? But I’m going to start with a phone call to my buddy Joe and schedule lunch.

Juggling Porcupines

Boy, it’s a bit nutters again! Work’s suddenly lurching along at a borderline-frightening clip, and then all the other stuff outside of work is just… there. Needing to be done, needing to be remembered. (The remembering is my downfall!)

Since I absorb everything around me, I am also agog at my husband’s whirling dervish abilities of the past week – he put up the greenhouse! He did, he did! It looks a-ma-zing. I promise, pictures to come. He’s working on the benches that go inside now.

Dog training is work! Yes it is! Tripper is very cute, and also a bit headstrong. I have learned from Polly and being a bit more of a badass this go-round. Polly just looks at me when he bites her face, and I say to her, “You did that exact same thing to Suzy” and refuse to feel sorry for her. She has to grow up, and 4 years old is time to grow up.

I hit the wall with my molar #19 and am getting a root canal. I initially scheduled it for this week, but moved it to the end of the month. What the hell, I’ve lived with all this joy & pain since June, another couple weeks won’t wreck me.

We’ve been getting fencing & siding estimates, and it’s been an interesting process. I am glad I renewed my membership to Angie’s List, because even though I’m a cheapskate on some things, I figured that when you’re going to spend a chunk of change on things that you don’t want to do yourself, it’s better to at least find out if the people you choose to do the job have a good history of doing the work. So far, the fence guy I found on CraigsList is in the lead, but the siding guy from Angie’s List impressed JWo so much, it’s already worth what I spent to renew. Good times and home improvements. And having a fence truly encapsulate the property will be a HUGE benefit. With three dogs & one who loves to run off & roll in poo, nobody needs her teaching the little one it’s a great idea.

We’re going to see Avenue Q tonight – should be really entertaining! And we’re going to see Garth Brooks next week, which is really crazy, because I’m not exactly your Country Music kinda gal. But I think he’s got a pretty universal appeal, and lordy, he’s only doing 9 concerts here….!

Oh, and I exchanged our DVR this weekend (making it the 3rd DVR we’ve gone through), because it was refusing to record things & do normal DVR activities, like pause live TV? And within one day, the new box was doing the exact. same. thing. I thought my head was going to fly off my body. Fortunately for everyone in the room, JWo had drunk a celebratory martini (after finishing the greenhouse) and he wasn’t freaked out by me getting pissed. (“Jennifer, I just don’t care.” was the exact response. It made me GUFFAW.) The CSR at Time Warner asked, “With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking tonight?” and I replied, “Well, that’s gonna depend on how you define PLEASURE.” I need to say, in my defense, that I don’t scream or yell, but I do tell them I’m frustrated, that this isn’t working, and I’m not going to settle for the solutions we’ve tried already since they aren’t! working! He was basically of no help, so Friday afternoon, a technician is coming out. And I’m irked because it’s sweeps, and none of my shows are recording. However, after he re-booted it remotely, it recorded some shows and worked properly. For the moment. I’m sure when I get home it still won’t be working. It’s actually less about the shows themselves – because I can get ’em online – but the fact that something I have isn’t working. It zings my OCD inner self and that inner self freaks out. (Remember? Floor lamp? Order must be restored!)

OK, I think that’s it. Because it’s all infused with stress, it doesn’t qualify as a Random Orts post, but instead is a newly-established category: Juggling Porcupines! Not as much fun as riding the bike with one pedal, but I did dream last night that I had a lengthy conversation with Lenny Kravitz while spinning some yarn. (I don’t know how to spin in real life, but in my dreams, I’m quite good.)

sotto voce: Nobody wants to hear about your dreams, Jennifer. Thanks dad. :)

Good Grief, Charlie Brown

I just got the mental image of flipping through channels on TV, you know, but slower than most men go. Like you actually hear some exchange of dialog, process the faces and setting and action, and then you “click!” move on to another channel.

Round these parts? It’s been “click!” from one action-drama-filled channel to the next. Seems like every time I look up at the screen, there’s another tense or stress-filled situation or crazy request or insane deadline or drama drama drama! And then you accidentally hit a button that takes you to the Zen Channel Pack and “click!” you find yourself panting and twitching and looking around worriedly while Zamfir’s magical pan flute music floats around you and lotus flowers blossom in time-elapse photography. And you go, “Wha?” and you reach for your guns but instead there are big squishy marshmallowy pillows, and you react like you’ve been burned with a hot poker.

Don’t get me wrong. I’d never, ever, trade in my life for a flatlining routine. But sometimes the absolute craziness, followed by all white and peace and nothingness – well, it freaks a gal out a bit. I raced around today, and even a week ago, thought I was starring in my own personal horror movie, racing against the Goblins of Time and then the screeching to a halt somehow happened and I’m blinking, looking around (mistrustfully, mind you!), wondering what on earth has just happened.

Oh and yeah, I screwed up three cables in that scarf? About 6″ in. So I’m totally fu-barred and have to rip it way back. Sigh. There’s a low! We’re not in Zen Quietude anymore!

Me & My 800 Tiles Made From Good Intentions Are DONE!

You know the saying – the road to hell being paved with good intentions? Well today is living proof!

I had a good morning at home, got things done that I needed to do – worked out, took care of a visiting Gracie, got JWo’s lunch pulled together, got myself dressed & out the door. Even the first 40 minutes of work were looking good – my hope to leave early looked very promising, and I was putting lines through my to-do list.

Then it screeched to a halt. I have spent the past three hours on a crisis, and I was supposed to have confirmation of budgets (to spend money on said crisis) over an hour ago. I can’t leave because the minute I go – the project will be approved. This is one of those situations when it feels like I. Am. Not. Flexible! I was going to leave early, catch up on some of my shows, do a little knitting & relax before the whole Weekend O’ BBQ festivities begin ….. but no. Now I’m starting to wonder if all this time spent will even amount to any project execution, because each minute that goes by means it will become more impossible to make happen – and the likelihood of moving forward dwindles. So it will all have been for naught! Sigh. I’m gonna have a pity party at my desk, so feel free to entertain me with your comments…..

UPDATE: Nope, project not approved. Could still happen, could still happen on Monday. I just sent all my sales people an apology & update, and they’re all being gracious, despite me screaming at them four hours ago to GO! GO! GO! like I was their air force drill sergeant loading them onto a rescue chopper. Sigh. This is why I try to be nice to everyone, because then when we have days like this, those same people don’t actually want to slit my throat. I’m going to return to my to-do list & still hopefully leave a smidge early. But it may require napping to shake off this day!

It Would Help With The Laundry Situation…..

I like the fact that my boss & I can argue & disagree and it doesn’t turn into WWIII. However, he also possesses the ability to send me straight UP crazy in a reaction, when he’s only kidding. I know a certain other someone who has actually perfected the art of this, and we share pillows. The Wo says it’s great fun to get a reaction out of me, and I had to wonder if the same boy-humor was afoot this afternoon. Of course I wondered this after I’d begun spluttering!

See, BossMan and I disagreed about the solution to a problem, and if you know anything about me, you know that I will not even realize my heels are dug in until the water has risen above my kneecaps. Terrier Tenacious J. I am stub-born. And somewhat principled, and argumentative and not one to shy away from a tussle. I really should have gone straight on to law school, so I could get riled up every day like this, and get paid for it, and then keel over dead at the age of 42. A life lived, I say. (just kidding!) Thankfully, Bossman :is: married to a lawyer and he recognized the impasse (while I was busy creating picket signs and barking about precedent and my logic) and proposed I execute the solution both ways and only later did I realize I now had MORE work to do. But I was heard, and we will discuss it further and I am already at the point where I don’t care which one wins (well, 15% of me still does, but that will fade, like the 80% before it.) I just Need to be Heard, I think. I am a Roman Candle, and usually burn brightly and fall back to earth, tired and ready for dinner, and no longer needing to orbit the earth on fire. (Of course, there are a few instances when the terrier would not let go and we were on more of a NASA mission, and the common thread in those cases happened to be I Been Done Wrong. I don’t let go of that so easily.)

So I am tired, it’s been a hectic wonky day, and the American Royal is coming up this weekend, and I’m nervous about judging “Side Dishes” because that really covers a W-I-D-E breadth of food, and even if you’re judging things you hate, you have to ask yourself, “But is this the best Mustard Spam Salad I :could: eat?” Mmmmm. I feel a little more comfortable with the meat judging (that’s on Sunday), but will have to remember you can end up eating 6 pounds of meat if you actually eat the portions you’re given. This is all starting to feel like a crazy barbecue-slathered Roman feast. Roman candle, Roman feasting, I should just wear a toga the rest of the week and call it a theme. And how sweet that would be, as I’m behind on laundry and need to get some done if I’m going to continue to show up for work in a state that’s acceptable. There is no laundry sport game on the Wii, and I must admit, that’s a design flaw. Or maybe I just need to put down the Wiimote and get some laundry done…. Sigh. I’d rather argue. Or knit. I’ll give you knitting updates soon, because there ARE some!

Jitterbug

It’s a dance, it’s a sock yarn, and right now, it feels like ants in my pants! I’m going to freak out and scream because there is so much going on and I am going to panic! Or maybe I have already panicked.

Excellent. I can cross it off my LIST!

Oh, and this morning I heard a co-worker spelling out her last name, I said out loud, “U, for Urethra”, because that’s exactly what our summer intern said when spelling out the company name to a caller. I didn’t hear about it until after she was gone, and it’s also taken the form of “U, for Uranus” and now nobody knows which one it was for sure, but Oh Mah God, that made me laugh. I guess the person who overheard her gently said there were better terms to use & sent her the standard military alphabet guide. U! For whatever body part U like!

Off to freak out.

DING! Fries are done.

Holy smackerel! We’re busy at work! But, I at least got the go-ahead to hire an entry-level person, and even though we’d face the time-eating hurdle of training someone? It means there’s another person in here & they can take some of this stuff on, off our respective plates, and free us up to do more work…. It’s just been wacky! I am glad that we’re busy, because not busy is dreadfully boring and a mind-numbing grind. It just feels like the days slip through my fingers & I look at the clock and it’s 4:00 …. with so much left to do!

Looking ahead, to non-work-related adventures, we are excited about being meat & side dish judges at the American Royal in a couple of weeks. We’re waiting for our tickets/info packets, and I am already feeling the pressure I felt as a juror, the need to adhere strictly to the rules, as I take my responsibility very seriously. So much so I have to keep reminding myself, “This is for FUN, Jennifer, FUN, don’t forget!” Then we have James’ MWA banquet the second weekend in October, and at some point I become a WW (Waterfowl Widow). Which is when all those tv shows get watched! :)

I did finish the knitting on the Baby Surprise Jacket last night, coming :just: short of enough of the Artyarns, but I switched in some Cascade 220 I had on hand, in a lovely complementing purple, and reserved just enough (like, by 6″) Artyarns to finish the sweater as trim & bind off. I purchased some buttons at lunch, and they are a nice olive-green. I’ll sew them on, but rather temporarily, so I can switch them as needed for the recipient, once we know if he’s a she or a he (you know what I mean.)
Supercuteness!

IMG_1749

I’m off to collapse, preferably face-first into some Vietnamese food & a cocktail. Better odds of absorption if I go face-first.

I’m Taking My Life Advice From A Dove Chocolate Wrapper.

It says:

Go to your special place.

um, ok. Do I have to come back out, ever?

(It’s a little stressful at work again. However, we’re all shorting out earlier and earlier in the day now. It’s like those wind-up nun toys that spark out their mouths, but instead, something gets jammed and they just start riding the whirly wind-up duck.
Naked.
With sparks flying out their butts.)

At least I leave you with colorful imagery. My work here is done.

If you Find My Mind, Please Put It In The Nearest Mailbox…

…so it can be returned to its owner, me.

Oh my lord. Things feel a little unravelly. I went to CostCo last night to shop & get more things for James’ lunch, and some basics for us. I’ve been making him a sack lunch each day, and it’s worked out quite well – I make up the sacks of packaged things for a few weeks at a time, and then just make a sandwich each morning, grab a sack at random, and off he goes. He likes it, he doesn’t leave school ravenous (which was why in previous years he found himself in many a drive-thru for an after-school meal), and I like doing it, because it feels like I’m taking care of him & gives me the opportunity for some surprises. Not all those surprises are planned. Today, I got an email from him – I made him a sandwich this morning, even mixed it up a little more than usual with ham AND turkey, plus some spicy mustard with the Miracle Whip – and apparently? I left it on the counter. Didn’t put it in his lunch tote. CRIMINY!

Add to that the fact that when I bought milk at CostCo? I bought WHOLE MILK. We drink skim. I can’t stand whole milk, though I think I’d enjoy it in a milkshake, because ice cream makes everything better, and I was astonished. Disbelieving, in fact. Asked him three times if he was sure I’d bought the wrong thing. Well, there’s no denying milk that coats the interior of a glass like housepaint. Jesus. He at least likes it ok, but we both know it’s as good for us as melting a stick of butter and chugging it.

I’m not losing my mind, I’ve lost it. I guess I’m stressed & it’s just shorting out the normal/habit-formed synapses of my brain, because I’m in such triage with everything else, and my gnomes can’t even take a look at the sparking cables that are flailing around unattached. We just sigh and shake our heads (me and the gnomes) and vow to try harder next time. And seriously, if you see my brain – and some of the resident gnomes – just galloping down the street, chugging a Colt 45 and mooning the traffic, would you please shake it, give it a stern talking-to, and send it back, please?

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