"I'm so sorry if my agonizing pain is inconveniencing you."

Firstly, after a number of experiments conducted lo these weeks of unemployment I have decided that a banana and oatmeal is the best pre-run breakfast. Normally, when I had a job and a schedule, I ran before breakfast. Lately it's so freakin' cold that the longer I put off my run the warmer it is. A few degrees is a lot when it's 30. I'm pretty proud of myself actually for not being more of a wimp and giving up completely. I might have to invest in a face mask though, before my cheeks actually fall off one day.

I keep forgetting today is friday and that thanksgiving is next week. I need to make myself a post-it. Our first big ass craft fair is the weekend after thanksgiving and we're killing ourselves to be ready. We didn't seem to think there would be very much work involved because we aren't very smart. It's going to be a learning experience for sure. And also it's very sticky. I've washed my hands more times this week that I have...probably ever. I might not have any skin left by christmas.

"ten wanks beyond fussy!"

Pajamas a la me. We finally got one of the machines working (oil, who knew) and I got the first nightgown done. It looks really great from a far. It's sort of worse when you can see the seems but that's the great thing about children's clothes because children grow so fast they might just outgrow the nightgown before the whole thing unravels...always thinking!

I have to make three more and then my christmas sewing is done. Fortunately the children are progressively smaller and I'm getting faster with each seem so by these calculations I should be done before I start the third pair, it's like flying west. Can you call it a pair when it's only one? Pajamas are confusing.

A very Brady christmas to you too

So, we're up on Etsy. With three whole items. WooHoo. Wanna see what we've been up to these last few days, check us out!

imaginary business

Today I made exactly one wreath and my hands are so black with pine pitch I look like my boyfriend. I now know how boys get so dirty, it's really not that hard. So, I made one wreath that I sort of hate, I accidentally painted Charlene's beautiful took her two hours wreath with silver instead of clearcoat and while I feel reallllly bad about that it looks pretty awesome.

I'm getting ready to post some things on Etsy tomorrow. I'll put the link here so you can see how we're spending our unemployed time. I'm no longer foolish enough to think we'll make any profit but we're having a good time. Good times are better than "oh my god I'm unemployed" times so everyone wins!

If you can't beat 'em, balsam

Making wreaths is effing hard but it smells awesome. We made nine today, four of which look like the christmas decoration equivalent of pissed off and rabid wildebeasts, but whatever. It's a learning process. We're going to try again tomorrow...starting with bow making 101. Maybe I shouldn't have given the florist so much shit at the old job, it does suck standing all day working at a table. I'm a mean, mean girl and I'm feeling repentant.

"fabulous but semi-crippling"

Working hard at the Maine Grind in Ellsworth, with cupcakes...yay for customer appreciation day. We were discussing our imaginary business and reading Martha Stewart. Charlene has some super awesome ideas if we can actually figure out how to make a wreath. If we can get past that hurdle, well, we're golden.

This morning it would not stop raining so I missed my daily run. I made up for it by helping Matt lug firewood. It was seriously demoralizing. He did two trips to my one, I was the weakest link. He kept saying it didn't matter, everything I carried was something he didn't have to carry, but I felt completely useless. And now I feel completely knackered. Which I suppose means I got my exercise quotient but I don't feel energized like I do when I get my run in, I just feel tired. I suppose that's the difference between work and exercise.

cautionary tale

I grabbed matt's ugly ass orange fleece as Charlene and I were leaving to search for balsams yesterday. I'm not a mainer but it's a habit and I was shocked that Charlene didn't have a stitch of orange on or in her car. She was worried about bears and I'm worried about hunters. Matt has officially banned me from wearing brown, white, basically any color that any dumbass with a gun could possibly think was a deer. I'm not even allowed to carry a plastic hannaford bag because they're either white or brown, I had to find the one blue one. A long time ago he told me a story of a woman who was in her back yard with white mittens and was shot because someone thought she was a deer. I always remember that story and today it was in the paper. That was twenty years ago and the anniversary is today. It's pretty hard to read but I wasn't here twenty years ago and I didn't have to live it. I feel terribly for both parties, I really do. A family lost their wife and mother and a hunter took a human life, whether he's able to admit it or not.

The article says that hunting is safer now and blah blah blah but I think a lot of what the victim's husband said of 1988 is still true today. Hunters think that their right to hunt is all that matters and that anyone who objects is against hunting and against guns and is a liberal communist pussy. Really, there are t-shirts. They noted a housing boom as a cause of the accident. Personally, I think if you're going out somewhere with a gun you have a responsibility to know where the fuck you are (and have, you know, permission) and what you're shooting at and if you show up somewhere and there are houses maybe you should re-think your plan. Recreational land users in Maine drive me fucking crazy. They really think they can take their guns and their atv's and their snowmobiles anywhere they want to and it's just fine. Dig up our road, trash a blueberry field, shoot a homeowner...I don't think most of them are aware of consequences because for so long everything was just paper company land or unorganized land and now it's owned by individuals and Roxanne and they're unable to deal.

There is a distinct inability to adapt here, to accept change. Which is bullshit because it's damn hard to live here. I sometimes wonder if the populous survives on sheer stubornness. There is a complete inability to accept change. If you work for the paper mill and the paper mill shuts down...no one moves. They all just stay there and starve and say gee things were better when the paper mill was here...I do not understand. I do not understand because I am an outsider and I'm sure that Kevin Woods is right when he says it would have made a difference if the hunter had killed a local woman. If it was a Mrs. Baldacci that was shot, or anyone named Beal it would have been a different story.

I am genuinely scared when I'm out in the woods because Matt is scared for me. He's a hunter and he knows a lot of hunters and if he thinks most of them will shoot anything that moves I trust him. I can't wait for November to be over and the fear of being shot in my own yard gone (well, lessened anyway). I hate wearing orange and wondering weather my burgundy sweater is going to get me killed, it's no different than victims in rape cases being criticized for their clothes. I don't think it's my responsibility to keep morons from shooting me but I don't want to die for it so I wear the orange...and I make Charlene wear the orange too. I told her bears are afraid of orange so everyone wins.

"She's so hot, she's making me sexist - bitch."

The wreath making odyssey began today. We bought some supplies including some ridiculously fabulous flocked 1960 reindeer that I frickin' love. I'm not all that into christmas decorations...strange considering my new venture...but I seriously love these reindeer. They stepped right of the wonder years I swear. They're magnificent in their ugliness. We also bought some stuff that's not ugly, like ribbon and rings and blah blah all the other stuff you need to make cool stuff. Tomorrow we're going to scope out some craft fairs and check in on the competition. We're amazingly on the same page with our design ideas. I knew we thought a lot alike before but we really clicked today while making our choices in the shop and then driving through the woods (don't ask) and I'm really excited about our plans. Even if we don't break even, we'll have a great time so that's something.

What is not something, well I guess it is but it's a sucky something, is that I gave my friend the last kitkat in the bag this afternoon. WHICH MEANS I ATE AN ENTIRE BAG OF KITKAT MYSELF. No, really. I gave half of one mini kat to Matt and one mini pack to my friend and every other one I friggin' ate myself. No damn wonder I've been holding at 180. What is a wonder is that I haven't keeled over dead one morning coming up the hill. Can one have solid chocolate in the arteries, I know about cholesterol but what about chocolate...what is the survival rate of the kitkat bypass surgery? Is there anything more embarrassing in the whole world than offering candy to your new business partner and then having to admit you ate the WHOLE BAG because you already told her you were having a slight kitkat problem that morning. Yeah, no. I really need to get my shit together. What is the point of killing myself to run every morning and pushing myself further and GROWING EMOTIONALLY to then eat an entire bag of halloween candy? I hate myself so much right now, you have no idea.

the big licker

This sweatshirt was covered in fur. It belongs to Matt, so it really belongs to the meow and we've just been pretending it doesn't exist because wow was it furry. I stuck it in the washer as was and this is what happened. Doesn't it look like a constellation? Perhaps it's a great piece of art exploring the nebulaeic depths of the universe. Perhaps I should clean my house more often. Perhaps I should blog on a topic that isn't cat related.

I had a really sort of sad run today. I was not in to it. I find on days like this that I just keep hitting next song on my shuffle until I realize I'm just standing on the side of the road and that's not so sweaty an activity. I added a few new songs recently and that did the trick for most of last week but today not so much. Nelly is really the only music that keeps my feet moving, it is getting hot in herre and it must be the money because for some reason those two songs have consistently pumped me up. Yay nelly. Unfortunately it's not really in the budget to buy new songs every week just to keep on the trail. I've got to find some other motivation to get me to endorphin euphoria. What do you do when you get tired of your exercise music, do you buy a ton more or get over it?

I'm really enjoying my early runs despite the music problem, it's a different thing altogether when you aren't in a hurry to be anywhere..."why yes, I can run a bit further...why not go another half mile" so far it's very positive. I fixed my pants so I'm better dressed and perfectly warm and so far not shot (I did see a deer tied to a honda civic today which was a bit like a elmer fudd cartoon). I'm not seeing a huge weight reduction, I'm down around five pounds and holding but oh so impressed with my new muscles. I love feeling myself up.

I read something recently about using your blog as a resume and somehow I think not. But then maybe everyone doesn't write about grabbing their own ass. I guess it depends on the profession.

"We are gonna get drunk with Russell Crowe and we're gonna head-butt some goddamn kangaroos."

So, don't even tell me how many years I am behind because I don't need to know...I just, just this second got hooked on friggin' entourage. It must have been a while back because they're dancing to toxic and their Mac is a G4. The wreath business officially begins tomorrow but my pajama party is in tatters. Grandma's machine is, uhm, well I can't get to the damn bobbin. Any of y'all sew, I'm totally desperate. If anyone knows how the hell to get to the arm of a Singer Stylist 533 write me urgently. I have half useless sewing machines all over my newly emptied living room and it's damaging my chi. I feel like my meme, only without the 32 years worth of styrofoam McFishwich boxes stacked in my bedroom.

Tricksy sewing machineses

Obviously I suck because I had to publish to see what the pictures would look like and whoa, it's like a collage. Not that it matters, photojournalism this is not. Anyway, here's my new sweatshop. Or it would be if the sewing machine worked. Something is happening between the thread and the bobbin and it makes an unpleasant sound. I guess in the three years since I've sewn anything something went awry. Or more likely I put it away broken and figured it would be fixed by the time I used it again. Which seriously didn't work. I have another sewing machine downstairs that hopefully works...it just comes with one of those huge ass desks. Can you see the size of this room? I spent all week trying to make more space in my sky trailer and now I have to bring up another desk. Argh.

I'm trying to make pajamas for the children for christmas. I already cut all the pieces so hopefully I can get a machine working because it would seriously suck to sew all that by hand. I made Matt's cinnamon bread yesterday but it was still cooling last night. I used it for french toast this morning and decided that I am a genius. But not genius enough to take a picture. I did take a sort of creepy picture of Sam from the end of the first lord of the rings. I have a lot of time to kill so trilogies it is. Back to the future tomorrow. I almost wish I had tv, the silence is killing me. And still, no braids...

"He's alright, as far as violent pissheads go."

Officially tired of unemployment. Considered cleaning bathroom grout with toothbrush simply to pass time. Set up twitter but as I'm doing nothing 25 hours a day, no tweets. Opened bag of halloween candy, bad decision. Frozen kit kats suck. Considering going outside to be eaten by bear for blog fodder. Cat would not allow me to braid her fur, said something about boundaries. Help.

"Somewhere a rainbow is weeping."

I dun broke my running pants. Must've been running too fast, too hard, too run-a-lisciously. Yeah, whatever it's going to be a long month but I seriously did break my pants. I'm distressed, the cord broke in the middle of the, err waist band, and somehow I have to fish it out because I'm way too poor to buy new ones. It's going to take hours, which fortunately I have, but at the moment I'm too lazy. So this morning I had to wear my pippy longstocking socks with my not long enough sweatpants (seriously, capri sweatpants...what was I thinking) and my horribly yellow sweatshirt so I'm not mistaken for a deer and some truckers from canada honked at me. Sassy bastards. It was quite a look, like short stop on the baseball team of hell. How's that for imagery. Aren't I writer-y today. Hemingway, Hemingway, Hemingway.

So clearly I'm going frickin' insane in my house. Too much time alone and I'm completely out of things to dust. Just me and the meow. I'm going to braid her fur later and then we'll play truth or dare, it's gonna rock. I can't wait for my friend to get laid off so we can be bums together. Top of the list of things I never thought I'd wish for.

"Jesus is coming - Look Busy!"

So, something happened at the funeral that has been driving me crazy and since I have to post every day this month why not get it out of my brain and into the blogosphere and then maybe get over it. Matt's mother introduced her sons to the very kind and eloquent reverend as "this is my son "Matt's brother" and his beautiful girl "girlfriend" oh, and this is Matt and Amy". I'm a big petty jerk but damn does that seem insensitive to you?

I edited this part where I wrote about Matt's frustrations because they're his and not mine to discuss at length on the internet. I will say that it makes me cranky when they treat him badly. He gets guilt trips for not going to each of the three to four birthday parties for his brother's girlfriend's children but no one seems to care that the brother didn't make it to say goodbye to his grandmother who was dying for over a month. Children that are in no way related to matt and have so much family that they have a handful of birthday parties every year merit more time than your actual grandmother who has asked to see you one more time, great family values. I'm tired of us being the pariahs because we make different choices. And also, the brother made a remark that Matt has a mother and not a girlfriend because I cook for him instead of stouffer's every night...sorry you're jealous buddy..nothing I can do about it.

I know I'm the odd one out and that's fine with me most of the time. I'm not going to pretend to go all gooey about her babies (for whom they put diet coke in a sippy cup, WHAT THE FUCK) and christmas and say "gee, aren't men helpless" all the time just to be like his mom and the perfect, beautiful girlfriend (who didn't vote because she didn't have the time...that pesky every four years is so hard to plan for). ARGHHH. I'm just frustrated and Matt is frustrated and I'm tired of sucking it up. I'm taking a break from sucking. I'm going to be vapid and petty and whiny today and maybe I'll be a grown-up tomorrow. Afternoon.

"And that's why you don't get your money's worth when you wear jeans to a strip club"

Currently baking a pie, making applesauce, folding laundry and watching Smokey and the Bandit. I'm a busy, busy girl. My friend from the old job and I are getting our christmas wreath venture all sorted out. We even have some customers already! Yay! We're going up to the wreath making capital of Maine next week for supplies. Expect photos of wreath-y goodness. I'm planning to print up some christmas cards too, I'm SO crafty when I have the time.

Because of the crafting I've pulled out all my printing supplies. I have a stack of soft block to carve. I've been storing it with some styrofoam plates that I used for valentine's day a few years back. It was silly to save styrofoam, they're not exactly heirloom printing plates, but I did and man was it interesting when I pulled them out. Apparently, when you stack soft block and styrofoam together it turns the styrofoam into rubber. Which is fascinating. The soft block plates are fine, even cleaner after the rubber pulled out all the ink residue. Next time I'll store them for 10 years and hope for diamonds.

"God was my co-pilot but then we crashed into a mountain and I had to eat him"

A long time ago when my mom was just sick instead of gone, my aunt gave me one of those pink ribbon magnets for my car. I should say she tried to give it to me, I wouldn't take it. She had bought a whole bunch of them, she had one of every color on her car: cancer, the troops, one for everything. My refusal was sort of a big deal and apparently I have no tact with that sort of situation. I don't always see the benefit of lying for the sake of others and probably I'm a bad person. I admit it freely, and right up at the top here because the rest of this post gets a little cranky..

Today at the grocery store the wall o' pink products was on sale. It was very difficult to not buy a pink broom, or some pink pot holders or anything really because I love me some random pink stuff. But I couldn't do it and not just because I'm not supposed to be spending on random things. I hate all that breast cancer awareness crap. That might even be too specific, I hate all that raising money for a cause by buying stuff to stick to your car or because it's a certain color. I don't believe that buying cupcake liners with pink ribbons on them cures cancer, I just really don't and it makes me insane that companies profit from selling us the idea that they're doing a good thing by offering us these products to buy.

My aunt bought those magnets because she genuinely thought it would help. I think sitting with my mom when she was dying was what genuinely helped. I think it's despicable of companies to take advantage of people who want to do good in the world. I think it's despicable that cancer will never have a cure because it's just too profitable the way it is. A friend of a friend just cured his own cancer with a natural remedy that his doctor was legally not allowed to tell him about. He found it on his own and his cancer is gone. But that doesn't make his hospital any money, or the insurance company, or the pharmaceutical company, never mind any of the researchers that work so hard until they get close to a discovery and then disappear. I guarantee you that's a story you'll never hear on Oprah or any other mainstream media.

I hate that companies use the disease that killed my mother to make money. I hate that people who collect for that kind of thing outside the grocery store look at me like a I'm a bad person because I don't donate. I give happily to families struggling under their medical bills because of cancer and inadequate health insurance but I won't give to the industry. I don't need a pink frying pan to remember my mother and her suffering, I never will. And it sucks because I'd love a pink frying pan, ironic.

"dude, I have to see some penguins like right now..."

I'm doing some interview work for a job I really don't want and waiting to go to a funeral I really don't want to go to and there's like no candy at my dad's house. He did offer to go buy me some when I complained about it, which is something I suppose. Matt and I drove down last night and we're going back tonight because my car needs work. It sucks because I wanted to spend time with my family but I have to wait till my car is fixed. I think I'm just in a whiny mood today and should probably suck it up and shut down the computer. The random dying and falling asleep for no reason is only adding to my insanity.

"A psychotic horse toward a burning stable"

I can't seem to get my unemployed ass in gear today. I did my run as usual and since then nothing. I've filed exactly one thing. it's awful, this election hangover. I stayed up too late even though I could have gone to sleep happy after pennsylvania. Even with my predictive map red all over there was no chance for a mccain with without pa. Bless them and their all white meals with white gravy and no vegetables ever, bless them.

So, I drank a soda and ate a kitkat and still no enthusiasm. How disappointing that you can't ingest enthusiasm. You can fly to the moon and elect a black man president and you can't take a pill to get your house clean, shameful.

338 to 163

I'm so relieved, I have no words.

"passed me running, caught me standing still"

This is sort of the middle of the line. The woman next to the bakesale sign voted for Nader last time out of spite. I didn't need to know that, I really didn't.
The line went around the town hall and up a flight of stairs. The stairs were sort of sad because there were lots of old people waiting in line but they seemed to be in good spirits. People kept saying "historic day" and the like. On the stairwell there is this beautiful statue...it's called "hope", which I thought was sort of wonderful and such a happy sign.
This is a better shot of the statue and the line. I'm about 40 minutes into waiting here and things were pretty festive, another 15 minutes and I was back into the sunshine. I'm almost mourning my lack of television. It's going to be a long night.

"condolences on your sudden promotion"

I've been grinding my brains over my internet connection for two days because the cord wasn't pushed far enough into the jack. I would be suicidal if I wasn't so grateful that it's working again. Almost ruined Nablopomo on the third day. That would have been SAD. I unplugged it so I could completely rearrange my house. The bedroom did a 360 except it wasn't a 360...Matt thinks more like 270. Anyway, it's much better this way but probably not worth almost two days internet-less. And Seth from the phone company was very nice and very not sarcastic when the brevity of the problem was revealed. Bless him.

Meanwhile, my mess is a house. It's awful all the stuff I found that I have no idea what to do with. Is there any reason Matt needs every pay stub he's ever received since 1992? Seriously, no. The minute I accidentally burn them you know he'll be all mad about it, sheesh. I've found keys to cars I no longer own, more pens than any person could ever need in a lifetime, and why so many paper clips...WHY? Office supplies come here to die, that's what I've learned.

So this is my new office/bedroom. Since you never saw the old one maybe you're not that impressed. Just think piles upon toppling piles of pay stubs instead of desk-rific orderliness.



I'm starting on the livingroom/kitchen next. Right now that's where all the piles are living. I could take pictures but children might weep. On the upside the cleaning has provided excellent exercise. I think I pledged and wiped about 6 cats worth of fur. Pledge, wipe, walk to the trash...rinse lather and repeat. My next cat is totally going to be furless, or a poodle. However, pledging the floor has rewards when it comes to furries...absolutely no traction with those tufted paws. You just put a catnip toy at the epicenter of slideyness and it's hours of fun. Provided you walk around in socks and end up in traction yourself.

NaBloPoMo

Funny that I'm on the dole just in time for NaBloPoMo...no excuses this month. I'm also just drowning in narcissistic reflection so I'm going to try to not make this the most unreadable month of blogging known to man. I'm gonna try real hard, you betcha. Sorry, I've been watching some Palin clips and it's killing me. I'm dying of alaskan colloquialismitis.

In other news, this is my cat fulfilling her life's ambition to turn everything I own white. If I had bought a blue or say a green computer bag she wouldn't look twice at it, but black...black is her favorite. I'm "this" close to dipping her in nair.

"Oh you mean people with very high IQs and basic reasoning skills?"

This is Matt's breakfast, caramel cinnamon rolls which totally don't need icing but he insists. I made a very large dozen and they're all gone. I might have to break my oven in order to lose any weight while I'm home. Or maybe move it downstairs. On the upside not a single piece of candy was eaten yesterday. 'Course I bought 6 bags in a fit of "oh my god I want trick or treaters" and of course we didn't have a single one. What I'm going to do with the rest of than candy I just don't know. I can slowly feed it to my boyfriend but he's all anti-sugar unless it's been mixed and baked and covered in frosting. A purist he's not.

Yesterday I snapped some photos on my way to mail some resumes. This is a blueberry barren in my hood. See that mountain in the background, that would be my yard. I have some more blueberry pictures, the plants turn with the season just like the trees and the fields are all purple and red and crazy beautiful. More pictures to come.

"Yes, I'd forgotten you're moonlighting as a criminal mastermind now. Got your next heist planned?"

So, Tuesday my Obama sign was stolen again. There was a gentleman who tried to bum cigarettes from Matt's family down the street and they're pretty sure he's the one who stole it. Which is impressive because it was almost as high up the embankment as the new signs and it was raining. I hope he at least sprained his ankle. Today the democratic headquarters were manned by a younger girl dressed a little bit like britney spears in that video with the hitting and she was way calmer than the little old ladies I talked to last time. She gave me a new sign, and another new sign, and a further new sign from a stack of handmade signs that I strongly suspect the grumpy old ladies made. The back of my new sign says "steal my sign, $250 fine" but I went with the "don't steal my rights" side instead. I guess I'm not bitter enough to threaten.

It's been a very long week with no firm plans. Next week I'm going to have to make myself a schedule. It's far too easy to get to 3 o'clock in the afternoon and find that you still haven't taken a shower. I'm still relatively busy with household things that need to be done but I don't want to find that weeks have passed and I've done nothing better than scrub my floor 50 times.

And also, Happy Halloween!

"Say what you want about the porn industry, but they're hard workers."

So uhm, officially unemployed. Not as dramatic as I thought it would be, I always imagined there would be yelling upon my exit. Instead there was crying and it wasn't mine, so that's good. Everyone is asking me "oh, are you ok?" like it's some big surprise. It's been very obvious that things couldn't continue as they are. There's been this big wall with all this writing on it for ages and it was just a matter of time. I might be essential to my boss but only because he's a moron, I didn't actively bring in any money and it's time he took responsibility for his decisions in a more active way.

My first week of unemployment is going pretty well. I'm working on making my house the cleanest it has ever been and I might have a brilliant new career in wreath making. Actually, I have one offer and some resumes to send and I'm eligible for unemployment benefits so it's not the end of the world. It's sort of strange because I really didn't want to work there and I was hoping to be laid off and now it's like "what's next?" and it's not just a theory anymore. So far I am enjoying being home. I expect the crazy won't set in until I've rearranged my furniture a few more times and gained 30 pounds. Or tomorrow, who knows.

Today I have things to bake and floors to scrub and dinner to cook. I'm already off schedule. I can't believe how quickly the time passes, not working makes time fly.

Oooh, California

I'm researching the shipping costs for wreaths and Fed Ex needs zip codes. What is the zip code for California...hmmm...hemmmmm...Duh, use 90210. 90's television comes to the rescue!

"Don't you get on that escalator! And don't you dare get on that subsequent escalator!"

Thinking that a bag of potato chips will make my stomach feel better is just one of the reasons why it's a blessing that I never became a doctor. That and the fainting. My stomach has been killing me all the time lately. Which is obviously the stressy mcstressedness but our florist made the suggestion that I must be pregnant and I hit her, it was pure instinct because I am twelve. Actually, when I was twelve my instinct would have been to pass out on hearing such news (which I totally did on human birth day in life science class and hit my head on a cabinet). Deep down I'm full of antiquated feminine virtue.

So, I feel like crap but it's totally helping my weightloss when I refrain from eating medicinal lay's. Go me. Things are crazy at work with the are we closing and when and will it be forever. I'm brushing up my unemployment knowledge because I'm supposed to be the expert only I have no information. I've gotten used to being left out of the loop and it hardly bothers me anymore. This morning my boss' wife, who is very, very weird, went all crazy hiding a computer screen from me. Which would make more sense if I didn't have complete access to that computer and far more knowledge than her about how technology works. Exhibit A: don't leave your email on screen and logged in when you leave for the day, not to mention the computer left on for no reason, if you want privacy.

It's now saturday and my venezuelan boyfriend called three times while I was out running. When I called him back he said "oh, were you sleeping?" "no, i was running" "oh...running?". I'm too fat to exercise, again. These guys are killing me.

"Darn your sinister attraction."

Whenever I start to lose weight again I fall in love with clothes. This is problematic what with the brokeness but I still have a closet of things I haven't yet worn in every possible combination...ooooh. This whole summer I wore jeans, jeans with holes actually, and t-shirts. I was a fashion disaster. Which was appropriate since everything else was a disaster too. Well, I'm over the whole can't care anymore thing and I'm back into getting dressed. Maybe it was the wedding. I packed something for every possible combination of weather, mood and social activities, I was a dress nazi. Fortunate for the bride who has me to thank for having flip flops that matched her after party dress. How was I the only one who realized there was no way she was going to wear heels for 24 hours straight...seriously. I have a few things that I have fallen in love with that are completely irrelevant to my every day life...pashminas, heels, bags...all in black and completely unnecessary for the life of a rural landscaping manager...but it was a blast to wear them in Philly. There are some heels that are just meant to be seen stepping in to cabs. I wish I'd taken a picture.

I was really excited about dressing down for this job and now I have cravings to dress it up. I wonder if that need has some correlation to my renewed vigor in health and fitness matters. There's certainly no point to earning yourself a new body and wearing ripped jeans and stained t's all the time. Not if you're vain like me anyway. So, clothes. Apparently I bought a few nice things while I wasn't broke and now I'm actually wearing them. Colors even. Amazing. I had been laying off the form fitting shirts since fatness set in but I realize now that was the worst thing to do. Why do we always turn to bulk and layers when that's the worst thing for looking your best? It must be hard coded in the dna, like bears hibernating. So I'm wearing my lacy tank tops and sweater sets and rocking the fit before it gets too cold. I might even wear a skirt this week. Maybe I'll get a marriage proposal out of it.

"Note to self - learn to duck"

I missed what would probably have been a very funny phone call with my sister this morning. I was running when she called and all I got was the message. "Dear Amy, On the upside I have lost a pound but I also lost a cup size. Call me back." Heh. I would very much like to lose a cup size so it's difficult to empathize but I am trying. When I call her back I'm going to tell her about this article I just read that will make her mad at me. Apparently drinking coffee shrinks your breasts. She's going to be seriously displeased. But it also decreases your risk for breast cancer which is a silver lining as long as you think life is better than cleavage. It almost makes me wish I liked coffee. Do you suppose coffee ice cream counts?

I have lost five pounds since returning from the wedding and not a bit of it is cup related. Disappointing. I don't know if it's the stress of losing my job very, very soon or the increased flirting regarding my curves at work but something has gotten under my skin and I just don't care about food anymore. My brain is occupado. Have I mentioned before that the first question all of my workers ask me is whether I'm married? No fail. The Jamaicans, the Guatemalans, the Venezuelans and the one guy from Mexico, they all want to know whether I'm married or not. They ask none of the other women here this question. I checked. So, now that we have an english speaker I asked him why. I had assumed that I must look like a good candidate for a green card or particularly desperate. I had intended to put him on the spot with that question, but we have a good friendship so I wasn't worried. He looked sort of shocked that I would have to ask and he said "because you're so beautiful, like an angel".

I don't know how to take that. I mean, yay, but the pessimist in me is a bit prickly. Also now I have an insatiable flirt telling me how beautiful I am all the time. In spanish. I ought to pen romance novels and give him a writing credit, some of the things he says. So I'm mad at myself for thinking the most negative thing instead of thinking the most positive thing (ie. fat and desperate versus angelic beauty) which I've been doing for a very long time and also for not enjoying positive attention for no good reason. It occurs to me that people won't be crossing streets and holding up traffic just to talk to me (adorable sign holder at construction site, happened this weekend, twice) forever and maybe I should make the most of it and stop being a negative prick...maybe. In short, I feel amazingly positive about myself of late and my body and it rocks. I ran farther than I probably ever have in my life this morning because it felt good and I wanted to rather the usual have to. It's an awesome day, except for the jobless thing.

"I took a small step and there conclusions were"

It is 26 degrees out. Holy shit winter came fast. I spent all day yesterday telling my boys that it's not cold and jesus, 26 degrees in October. I'm a liar, officially. The guys are going to think I'm a made of steel tundra woman who clubs seals for a living and doesn't feel cold. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

I had a very nice day yesterday with my new friend and my old friends. We're cutting back crews and some folks are going home, so I forced them all into hugging me after grocery shopping. I felt like the fat auntie with the red lipstick none of the nephews want to get caught by, but they were good sports about my girl need to hug them. I'll have to look up how you say "crazy american, run" in spanish for future reference. It's interesting having a good english speaker in the group, I'm learning more about the guys every day. For instance, they all think I dye my hair because no one as white as me can have hair that dark. Ha! Not so my friends, not so. My hair gets darker and darker and when I dye it I go lighter, touche! An interesting thing to think though, I guess I'm supposed to be blond.

So, I went to the grocery store today and I feel amazingly guilty about every cent I spent and I haven't even been laid off yet. It's fairly inevitable, given the last few days at work, but I'm seriously not ready. As much as I joke to myself about staying home and spending 8 hours a day doing pilates and making cookies I really, really don't want to be broke. I liked being able to buy stuff, I am shallow and I like it that way. I did broke for so long...it sucks. Unemployment schmunemployment. I'm not sure what's worse, this job or no job at all...man that's sad.

"oooh, pictures!"

Nothing to say...blah blah blah. I should have things to say because there's insanity at work and I'm totally losing and not gaining and having a lot of fun with pilates which I always do when I finally get back into and why do I ever stop again...because I'm a masochist. SOOO with the nothing to say, what about a picture? I've never done the before picture thing but I feel like I should because I'm really tired of this back and forth and also I want a marker. A "this is what you really look like" dose of reality and something to compare to when I finally get my shit together. And also my new friend took a pretty good picture, so why not?

"you could always electrify it"

So I went back to the Dem. HQ again to fetch a new sign. The little old ladies were really mad on my behalf. They asked where I lived and we chatted and they're worried there have been a lot of sign thefts. Cute old lady number 1 said "I don't think they know it's illegal to steal these signs" and cute old lady number 2 said "Oh, I think they know it's illegal". I said I was going to barb wire the edges this time. Cute old lady number 3 said "good idea" and then suggested the electricity. She's the third person to make that suggestion. I'm not really going to barbwire it but I want to, it's really hard to find barbwire. I put it at the top of a very steep embankment...so we'll see what happens this time around.

I had lunch with a new friend on Saturday. I have neglected to tell him how much Spanish I understand and he had a very interesting phone conversation while we were out. It would seem I'm "un poco gordita, no mucho". I am a little fat, or chubby, not very. It seemed easier not to comment. He also said I'm 28 so maybe I'll correct him on that one and see if he picks up on it. It was a very fun day anyway and he's not exactly wrong, I am a little fat. I should be glad he didn't elaborate more. Anyway I taught him how to use chopsticks, and we went to a yard sale...where he bought an enrique iglesias cd and we sang "Heroe" in spanish all the way home. It was an awesome saturday.

In the way of not being "gordita" I have done three pilates sessions this week and it's awesome. I'm coughing and hacking still but I can do five perfect teasers so I can't be that sick. I gave my beginners pilates dvd to a girl at work and I can't wait to see what she thinks of it. It would be awesome to have a pilates buddy. Maybe we could take a class and Pbffs forever. Awww!

40 HOURS LATER

I put up my Obama sign Friday night and it was just stolen. Who spends their Sunday morning stealing Obama signs? Matt heard the car door open and close and the culprits drive away but didn't see the car. They're probably on their way to a fundamentalist gun rally. AARGH. I'm so mad, I have no words. Matt is seriously pissed too. Even though he's an independent and the Obama sign was on "my" side of the driveway...he's pissed as hell that someone stole from our property. I'd like to think that maybe they really wanted it for their own lawn and couldn't drag their ass to the dem headquarters but that would be optimistic beyond the call.

"To coin a popular Sunnydale phrase, duh."

Today I marched in to the Hancock Democrats office downtown and said "all my neighbors are republicans, help me" and the nice lady said "don't you hate that?" which I totally do so it was awesome. I have a lawn sign and a bumper sticker that might give my boss a cardiac episode and a pin that says "Hillary supporter for Obama, Disappointed not Delusional". Heh. I'm pretty excited. My mom would be so proud. I'm going to think of her when I put out my Obama/Biden sign at home. One of the last times she left the house before she died was when she put up the Kerry sign. I should probably get a sign for my dad too so mom won't be mad at him in the afterlife.

"Your luggage is in the capable hands of a team of porters."

Sometimes when things happen at work I have to stop and remind myself that this is a real job and not just some dream I'm having where something idiotic goes wrong. One person called out this morning. I am dying of the plague, ie my throat hurts, so I didn't hurry into the office today. At 8 am my boss called me to ask if that person called out today and I said yes, why...Why, because no one else at the office has a key. I mean they're supposed to but they don't have one today...so all our crews and everyone else was standing around outside because of all the people there including two managers no one had a key. Heh, funny. The one key in the vicinity was in the hands of the jamaican cook who lives ACROSS the street and no one could think to go wake him up and get it including his FIVE roommates. It's very lucky that the door was unlocked and they were all gone when I got here because I might have killed them all. And I'm sure prison would aggravate my sore throat...

I have hardly unpacked a thing. Every night has been jam packed with sick grandmas and trips to walmart with guatemalans and tonight I'm baking cookies for the peanut butter king. One of our guatemalan guys is in love with peanut butter, inch think peanut butter sandwich for lunch every day in love with peanut butter, and we sort of missed his birthday so he's getting cookies. I wrote down the wrong day, I feel really bad. He must have thought we didn't care...AWWW. Hopefully the peanut butter cookies will make up for it.

The good thing about being so busy since we got back is that I haven't had time to bake every night. It's been good for me but Matt's over it, he's ready for his regularly scheduled snack having. Matt is right now sneaking cookies and thinking I won't notice...boys!

"I hear the jury's still out on science."

I'm home and I've unpacked exactly one bag. It was the most perfect wedding ever. I can't think of anything more to say than that. It was perfect and now the pressure is off. Unfortunately the pressure is on in so many other ways. Matt's grandma is very sick and has kidney failure and refused dialysis so there's a sense of imminence there. It's really sad and it's also really obvious that she's ready, I just hope his mom handles it ok. There tends to be a bit of drama in that family and the will is going to cause the trouble...I am hoping for the best there. Also, rather less dramatically, the starter in my car died again this morning...after I got to work of course. Poor car. Matt is going to replace it tonight before we drive up to the hospital. He's also going to take out the fuse that makes the bastard beep every time I unlock the doors. Something which I forgot to warn the valet about this weekend...whoops! That must have been awkward.

Things are a bit weird at the moment. I have a lot to catch up on at work and at home and probably won't have much time to do that. My boss really missed me though, which is nice. If we had work I'd feel very secure in my job. While I was gone we had an injury and a resignation by answering machine...so we have a very small crew. I have a feeling we'll be short a bookkeeper soon too which is going to suck. I seriously don't want to be in charge of that. I have enough access to receive accusations of embezzlement as it is and I don't want anymore. Really. Truly. God, I hope he doesn't quit.

Everyone loved my jewelry and shoes and dress and I hope the good folks shopping Ebay do too because that's where it's going next. Is it rude to try and sell your bridesmaid dress the week after the wedding? Are there rules about that sort of thing? I hope not because I can't store it anymore. It was hard enough keeping it fur free before the wedding...I can't keep that up forever. I'd have to shave the meow and I don't see that going well.

"I have a really low tolerance for dehydration."

Ooooh, pictures. Another reference from another brat pack movie. You know, it's sort of difficult pulling a one liner from the breakfast club, harder than I would have thought. Anyway, here are the pictures of my Ringwald inspired ensemble. I saw this shirt at the gap and it just made me think of that outfit. I like the cowl neck better than the straight v and it's jersey not a blouse...but the color is perfect. The skirt is ancient, a well cut high waisted corduroy skirt I got from the limited. It hits just above the calf and it has a perfect a-line/bell, a better shape for girls chubbier than Molly Ringwald. The boots aren't very much like Claire's at all, no laces and more of a heel. I bought them a few weeks ago at Aldo and I love them. I love the color, they're comfy and I think they're perfect.

Here is a close-up of the belts. I actually have a belt almost like hers but it doesn't match the boots. These two are much closer in color but I'm not sure which one to go with...advice is welcome. I've no idea what I'll wear for jewelry, probably more pearls. I've got quite a supply. I cleared away the packing debris to take the picture but I've obviously not made my bed. I'm making quite a mess and I have about four bags. If I was flying I'd be screwed.

"This must be what going mad feels like."

I have prepared my wedding packing list and I am about to commence...packing. I'm terrified I'm going to forget something vital so I'm just packing the entire apartment. Cat, dresser, sink, you know...it seems the reasonable thing to do. To your right you will see the very nerve wracking dress, which totally fits if I wear three pairs of spanx (not pictured). It's very simple and comfortable and long.

Hence the heels. They're very heely. And blingy. And no one will see them because the hem of my dress is just that long. I'm half sad - half relieved because they're really cute but they don't match the jewelry I bought. I just hope I don't trip and die because that could be embarrassing. Must practice with the heels and hope the church cleaning lady doesn't over do it with the pledge. Oooh, do churches have carpet?

So, this is the jewelry I've put together. I wanted to do the shiny bling bling thing but, I wasn't feeling it. It probably would have matched what everyone else is doing but then I'd feel even more like I was playing the part of a bridesmaid in a movie. So I went with pearls and a little ivory. The earrings are perfect and came from anthropologie. The necklace I ordered from Esty which matched the earrings perfectly got lost in the mail and the seller was on vacation and so I have the pearly bird necklace. It doesn't match as well but I sort of think it's sweet and dove-like and I'm going with it unless the bride's mother really hates it or something. The last is the cocktail ring which I'm not completely convinced of but I'm the only bridesmaid that won't be sporting a diamond the size of my fist and anyway the ivory rose is more my style. I'll probably just wear it to the rehearsal dinner (for which I found a very breakfast club molly ringwald outfit which I'm really excited about) and the post reception reception to which I'm wearing a sixties-esq skirt and kitten heel combo. It's very complicated dressing for a wedding. I just hope Holly's mom doesn't hate my choices...I always have the feeling she wants to tell me to brush my hair and put on some pantyhose. I love that woman.

"Just because I have breasts doesn't mean I have magical powers over infants."

I just got a frantic call from one of our gardeners about the zerbert of a hurricane named Kyle about to ravage our 30 miles from the coastline-ness. She's very worried about the guatemalan/jamaican contingents. I called the guatemalans house to tell them how worried she was about whether they were prepared and the farthest I got was that they don't have any water for her. I called the jamaican house to warn them about the storm and that the power might go out tomorrow...I was informed that they'll worry about it tomorrow. Heh, I should've seen that coming...asking a jamaican to worry.

It cracks me up that's she's all bent out of shape to emergency prepare a. people from the caribbean for a new england storm and b. people from third world countries to have no power. It just tickles me. If I lived closer I'd fill their bathtub myself, I'm not completely heartless, I just don't think they're that worried. We've had quite a few storms and lost power for a few hours a couple of times. I think folks forget that they're all still adults with life skills they just don't happen to speak english.

I think their biggest problem will be how bored they'll be with no american tv to watch. Yesterday they were watching america's funniest pets or something, which I guess transcends language barriers. Dancing poodles are dancing poodles in any language. It took me about half an hour to explain that I'll be on vacation for the wedding this week. I wanted to make sure they bought enough food to last through the 9 days. When I left I wished them a good week and I was worried they didn't understand but the last thing mr. accordion player said to me was "have a good....vacacione". I heart them.

"Tell me you're wearing that shirt because someone has to spot you from space."

I'm currently on the edge of my seat waiting for my boyfriend to show up with my pizza. I actually had a peanut butter cup as an appetizer. When he gets here I might have him feed it to me and possibly fan me with palm fronds, but I wouldn't want to over do it. Things are a little desperate, so far only one of the bridesmaids had to have her dress let out and fortunately it wasn't me...but only by a hair (heh). One more week.

So...I wrote that last night, and then obviously I got busy eating dinner and being extra lazy. I needed a stress break because I'm having a haircut trauma. Did I get a ridiculous hair cut a week before my bestfriend's wedding? No. Matt did. I said very clearly, one month ago, you should get your hair cut soon because it looks best a few weeks after the cut. He forgot, despite me remindng him every day, and made his appointment for one week before. And then, instead of saying don't take too much...I was supposed to do this two weeks ago...he let her almost shave his head with the clippers. I didn't even have words when he came home.

I know he doesn't care about his hair and I don't either 99.8 percent of the time but for a wedding? What kind of moron gives a person a shaggy ass buzz cut the week before a wedding. I asked him if he told her about the wedding and he said yes and everyone thought he looked great. Everyone but me. I was really mad. I hate to admit that I was mad about a hair cut but it's not like you can grow it back or buy more, is it so wrong to expect a little bit of attention to a detail so unfixable as too short hair? I'm probably a bitch, I feel like a bitch. Actually I feel like going hat shopping.

He's upset that I'm so mad and I'm mad because I really don't ask for much and I bought all the clothes and he didn't have to do anything but show up and not have stupid hair. I'm very frustrated. He's officially lost all hair free will and we're never going to his mom's friend who cuts hair again I don't care how cheap it is because to buzz someone's hair to that extent the week before a wedding is unjustifiable. If I had a flowbee and a blunt ax I could have done a better job.

There's really nothing to do. A hat really won't be that helpful. I'm going to try to give it the allusion of volume with some hair gel and god help him if he complains, I'd hate to be a widow.

cross dressing the delaware

We got some new guys from Guatemala yesterday and they rock. One had this brimmed old school hat with scarf combo and a GIANT diamond studded belt buckle (Dani, my new boyfriend) and the other was all puma'd up and teaching me the words for towel and blanket (Mitch, heh). I heart them. I wish I could carry off a giant diamond belt buckle, I really do. It was very, very impressive. It's an enviable look.

In other news I've had two cokes today. I'm actually on my second now because I am WEAK. And also my throat hurts. I needed bubbles. Does anyone else remember that episode of the Cosby show? "Claire, I need bubbles Claire". I can never get that episode out of my head. That and the one when it's Thanksgiving and the family keeps sending Cliff to the store in that horrible storm...the look on his face. I have to get a life.

Bel Biv Devoe

A few weeks ago I was listening to the radio and there was nothing on. I was in one of those moods where you keep hitting the seek button until you get a repetitive motion injury because every song sucks and there has to be a better song if you just keep hitting the button. So finally I came to an oldie but a goodie, Boyz II Men. Of course it was Delilah because she is the devil and now I can't stop thinking about Boyz II Men. I downloaded three or four songs which probably cost more than their entire catalog on half.com. Motownphilly, back again. Yo. Apparently they're still touring, god bless 'em.

And as if it isn't embarrassing enough to admit I've been singing On Bended Knee all week, if you look to your right you'll notice some huge, home made and mostly unfinished pajamas I just found. In a fit of Project Runway excitement shortly after graduation I stole my mother's sewing machine. Why I thought neon fleece finding nemo pajamas would be my ticket to Tim Gunn's very stylish heart I have no idea but I just found the proof in a tote from my garage. It's sort of a shame they're not finished because god knows I'll never finish them now. Matt doesn't think they're his color. Shame.

I found a metric ton of fabric I'll never use and mostly it's fleece. Fleece, the one fabric that will not go though my pilfered sewing machine. Those horrible pajamas were completely hand sewn and I've no idea what I'm going to do with all this fleece. I've moved it THREE times and finally I'm tired of storing it. Can you give fabric scraps to GoodWill or is that a bit much? I'm completely tired of storing unusable crap. I'd have so much more room for springform pans and bulk flour if I got rid of the fabric and the box of unloved purses and all that union trust crap my old boss stole from company parties. Good times.

"It's a real burden, being right so often."

I picked up my dress yesterday. So I can try it on every day and make sure it isn't shrinking. Heh. The more I think about the wedding the more I want to eat ice cream for breakfast, and I'm not the one getting married...what do I have to worry about really. Geez, narcissistic much? So I was really early for the bridal shop because apparently brides don't get rolling until at least 10...so I wandered around downtown Bangor, which was surprisingly nice. I bought some bagels from the fancy bagel company, which sort of stink actually, but it was a very peaceful downtown type thing to do. There are a ton of bakeries downtown and none of them are hiring, that much I learned.

So I have the dress back and the shoes are dyed and the wedding is within spitting distance. It's a very nice dress, it's sort of a shame how much I want to burn it. It's not the dress' fault that all the stress of such an important social occasion is piled against it. It's highly unfair. Probably I'll just sell it on Ebay if it doesn't split down the middle the day I wear it. And then buy a gun with the money. Or some chocolate. Probably chocolate. Which reminds me, I'm using sparkpeople again. As much as their five days of peanut butter sandwich meals still haunts me, it's still a good tool. Especially when you think you had a really bad day and then you plug it all in and it wasn't so bad at all.

There's a word I want to use and I can't get it out of my brain, something like neutral. Sparkpeople is like the switzerland of dieters, it passes no judgement on that ice cream you had for breakfast and tells you that you didn't really double your calories you only doubled your guilt. And it turns out that all my fancy vegetarian food is really low in calories. If I could stand to eat tofu tacos until the wedding I might disappear into nothing. I don't imagine all taco all the time would be any better than living la vida peanut butter but there's something about the 'taco diet' that has an alluring supermarket tabloid profitability about it.

"Looks like civilization's finally caught up with us."

So I stepped on a scale for the first time since ever and wow, 182. I sort of figured it would be worse, like maybe the screen would flash "hippo" or something but it didn't. Things happen while you're busy doing other things...John Lennon I'm not, obviously. I've been so busy whining that I let a few of my cardinal rules fly and I've been trying to make up for it. I'm back on my tea and oatmeal diet at work, which worked very well at the bank. I'm measuring everything which I stopped doing at some point and that was a bad idea. 'Course I was measuring sugar for my tea yesterday when I dropped the box and dumped about three tablespoons in the cup. It was gross but it was my last tea bag...it was a good reminder that extra sugar isn't as tasty as you think and I ended up dumping most of it. YAY!

In the way of working off that hippo status I went for a bike ride today. OH MY GOD. Apparently riding a bike up a mountain after two years of slacking is a poor idea. As in terrible, and painful and dead making, and also my fingers are numb which is just weird. Apparently I was only gone for 20 minutes which means that I spent 5 minutes riding and 15 minutes walking my bike back up the hill crying. No not really with the crying. I suppose I should look at it as a challenge to ride up the hill one day. One day before I'm 80, that's my goal.

It's fun to try new things and it's good that my legs hurt so much I want to cut them off. That must mean I worked hard today. Yay me. I passed some sort of healthy living milestone yesterday because I got home from work and cleaned and washed and cooked dinner and did pilates all before Matt got home from work. It felt really energizing to get things done. I must remember that when my id wants to eat ice cream and watch reruns of Firefly.

"One of you is going to trip and die and I'm not cleaning it up"

On the second to last day of work for Charlie, our designer, we had an on the job injury. One of our workers hit herself in the head with a sundial (I wish this was the strangest injury I've had to report, on the upside there's no way anyone would make that up). She was ok and then she wasn't ok and then we went to the emergency room. Charlie came with me because a. the girl couldn't walk and b. I needed moral support. After the emergency room drama, (ps to hospital registrars everywhere...unconscious people can't give their social security numbers...deal with it) we decided we really needed cake. So we went to the one lunch place that has really good cake.

We parked in a general lot and Charlie says "Maybe we should park behind the restaurant incase the boss' wife sees us" and I said "We have a right to eat lunch, don't worry about it". We were seated in the restaurant and after a ten minute discussion about how they didn't have a single cake that day, not even a sliver, Charlie went off to the bathrooms. I sat in my booth, looking out the window and eavesdropping on my fellow diners. The woman in the booth in front of us was talking about a man with the same name as my boss. And you know, she has the same shirt on that the boss' wife had on this morning...and the same hair...and OH SHIT THAT IS THE BOSS' WIFE.

This is where my flight or fight response kicked in. I ran as stealthily as I could to the back where Charlie was. It was just like in a movie where the character tries to escape and hits the dish boy and 2000 china plates crash to the floor except that part didn't happen at all. We hid in the bathroom until our waitress walked by and gave her ten bucks to pack our food to go and show us the back door. It was one of those moments that causes you to evaluate your life because when hiding in the bathroom is the best case scenario you have a serious problem.

"Good health is merely the slowest possible route to death"

I'm a busy beaver all by myself here. So of course I'm blogging. You know how sometimes your brain doesn't work? It's like that. Probably a result of the drinking. And the slow ammonia poisoning. Apparently singing "wind beneath my wings" on a friday afternoon is sure proof that you've lost touch with sobriety. A few weeks ago we celebrated the retirement of our designer by going out to lunch and just as I was finishing my margarita...the waitress accidentally spilled it. If there's anyone who doesn't need a second margarita on a workday it's officially me. To be fair mr. handyman finished it for me, girly drink or not, and it was all for the best.

The ammonia is a different story. We had a blue print machine that was trying to kill us. Apparently ammonia is heat activated and every afternoon when the temperature would rise the ammonia in the seriously broken blue print machine would seep out. I think it was the poison that broke the camel's back for our designer. A straight month of being poisoned is enough to push anyone over the edge, if it doesn't actually kill them. Super boss didn't seem to care for a whole month as he wasn't here to smell it so we didn't get to toss it until his schedule was cleared and then it was too late. It's a very sad tale. Although I don't think we'd have kept her even if we had wall to wall kittens, it wasn't meant to be.

I lost my train of thought there. Wanna hear about my alterations appointment??? I was sort of hoping for miracles, like somehow tailoring this dress would really consist of full body liposuction. It turns out the dress fits exactly the way it's supposed to. Not even the hem is too long. I saved a ton of money so I should be happy but it just seems insane to me that pulling the dress over my head and stuffing my stuffing in is the way it's supposed to be. The girls assured me that these dresses are made to be impossible. I'm sure it's some holdover of the middle ages, did they have chiffon in the middle ages? Clearly David of Bridal fame is a masochist and should be shot. So I'm left with my dress the way it is and no liposuction and I'm wondering how many Spanx you can wear at once and still have a pulse. Not that the pulse thing is necessarily a deal breaker.

"I'm looking for something in a broadsword"

Despite my promise to fill in the blanks from the last two weeks I am first going to ask for your opinion on the bridal shower gift I just bought for Holly. Because I am a moron and I waited too long to choose a gift everything on her registry is gone with the exception of chip clips and seriously, I'm not buying chip clips for my best friend's wedding. I had wanted to get her something unique and I'm not a huge fan of registries anyway. If I didn't think she'd kill me for it I'd have gotten her some hideous antique deviled egg tray or an old fashioned guide to wifely duties. Alas, it's not that kind of bridal shower. So I chose these glasses, I picked four states that are meaningful to the couple (four because they're ridiculously expensive...as all great gifts are no?).

My sister was dubious when I told her about my choice on the phone...so...I need help. If you think this is a ridiculous and sad bridal shower gift please speak now or forever hold your peace. I don't want to screw up but then I don't want to get her a blender either, so if you had a house full of basics and a registry that is completely bought up before the invitations even go out please let me know what you'd think about this gift.

I can only assume your boss finally flipped and you're slowly decomposing on some riverbank.

Hi Nick, loved the email. Gee, it has been awhile. It's not for lack of content. The things they have been happening. I just I can't seem to wrap my brain around any of them. There's nothing earth shattering going on, nothing is any worse than it was before. The big issue today is that I actually said the words "this is me resigning" to my boss. I didn't end up actually leaving because...I don't know why...I can't explain how I ended up staying. I'm clearly insane. This the second time I've grabbed my bag with the intention of leaving and we're officially on strike two of a three strikes and you're out purse grabbing scenario. He should now know that I don't need to be there and he needs to work a little harder not to be crazy. He also needs to work on remembering that he spoke to injured employee A and told her she'd be fine before he goes home and tells his wife all about the day and comes back to tell me all the things I did wrong because "how did you know she was unconscious when you took her to the ER?" is a seriously ridiculous question.

On subjects that don't make me want to throw things, Dietgirl asked me where in Scotland the family castle is. Heh, that was totally number two on my list but it's clearly going to be awhile because I've no idea where the family castle is. I tried to ask my Dad but he spent the whole time telling me about his informal book club (would you like 36 random books from strangers, ask me how!) and how when he was in England with the navy he lived off Hershey bars and how HE'S NEVER GOING BACK. He's a bit distracted in his retirement but I'm confident eventually he'll tell me, his brother stayed there a few years back and I guess I could just ask him but I've been busy stuffing one breast at a time into my bridesmaids dress. Hey, look what I did there...subtle. Remember the dress I freaked out and ordered because the first dress was a bit wee (shameless Scotsism)? Well, the new dress in a size larger is just as snug and the only way it fits is if I slip it over my head fully zippered and shimmy things in one at a time. The tailor is going to be super impressed and might possibly weep, I'll keep you updated.

I have more insanity to report but I hardly know where to start. My dearest dearie at work gave her notice two weeks ago and so tomorrow is her last day and I'm pretty sure strike three purse grabbing is very near in the future, like maybe tuesday after my dress fitting. I scheduled the appointment in the nearest possible slot because I feel a need to get on with the weddingness. The unfortunate thing is that I could chain myself to my pilates mat but I'm still not going to lose thirty pounds by tuesday at ten unless I chop off an arm. I'm going to buy some spanx and forget about it. I can't freak out about the wedding and everything else all at once so I'm going to make peace with the wedding and the fat and just be the best bridesmaid I can be at a size 12. C'est la vie. Now I have to go eat chocolate and write a resume and on the next installment of how amy's life turns I'll tell you all about how I think I was drunk last week for the very first time! Yay!

Tastes like George Washington

Holly, bless her, got my name off the 45 dollar wedding make-up list. So of course I just spent 30 bucks on Rimmel at Target. Excellent. It wasn't all Rimmel, I'm rather partial to the Neutrogena products too. They're one of the few companies that has shades fair enough for me to wear, you know which one works...translucent. I've always joked that I'm so white I'm clear and look, proof. It is rather beautiful stuff. I feel 30 dollars more beautiful, I really do. I have to get my money's worth to make up for harassing a bride two months before her wedding. I'd hate to think I tortured her for nothing, that would be wrong.

In baking milestones, I made my first trifle today. It was terribly american but very tasty according to the South African parents of one of Matt's co-workers. Brownies and jello pudding and cool whip, yep...I'd have to agree with the american bit. I tried to make the world's best brownies but like a damn fool who doesn't learn I didn't use the only cupcake liners that work with those brownies...in my eternal optimism I buttered the cups and you know what...THAT DOESN'T WORK. So, the brownies looked like crap and lo they became the base of a trifle. Dessert ingenuity if I don't say so myself. Matt saved a few to make ice cream sundaes with. I sort of love it when he's selfish with my baking. If I did run a bakery out of the house I'd have to change the locks, he might not let me sell anything.

Speaking of South Africans and lifelong dreams and such, some cutie in Australia tagged me for a meme. An eight things to do before you die meme. Which I thought was really cool, three days ago when I tried to write the post. Damn is it hard. I thought it would be difficult to narrow down to 8 but I'm finding it difficult to pick 8 things worthy enough to be on the list. Open a bakery. One. See my family's castle in Scotland, two. Design and plant a perfect landscape for the house when we build it, three. Land a job that's as good for me as I thought this one was, four. Read every single one of the books my dad hands down to me, five. Throw a party and have all of my friends stay at the new house, six. Take a road trip to California and back, seven. Learn to appreciate how lucky I am, eight. That was effing hard. I had no idea.

"what you eat reflects in your skin"

Yesterday morning I was driving to work and I had this wonderful fantasy about not stopping at the shop. I'd just keep driving and call Matt from wherever I ended up. That would have been awesome. Yesterday did have some high points though, I got the second in my series of "oh my god Holly's getting married" facials. This one was different than the first, more about dirt in my pores than relaxing and pampering. The part of me that's all business was happy and she said she had some very successful extractions. How dirty is your face when the facialist is cooing over the dirt that's coming out? Very, it needed to be done. She had lots of good hints too about being kind to your eyes and applying all lotions in an upward direction because gravity does all the down you can handle. Very astute I thought, I've always applied sunscreen and creams moving down my face, whoops. I expect to look 17 tomorrow since I totally applied my moisturizer in an upward direction today. I'll keep you posted.

I still have so much to do for wedding prep and none of it is sit-ups and it should be. I need to get my shoes dyed and find some jewelry and what am I going to do with my hair? The wedding is at 10 am so apparently we're all on hair and make-up duty starting at the crack of dawn. If I show up with no ideas the morning of either the bride or the stylist will kill me and it won't be pretty. I really want just natural curls and make-up but it seems insane to pay $110.00 and look exactly the same as I do every other day. I should probably go Tammy Faye Bakker to get my money's worth. The bride will LOVE that.

I bumped into an old colleague on an errand today and she asked about work. I told her the truth, which I never do when people ask about my job. She asked if I was looking and I said yes and it was sort of great to tell the truth about this place. Reading that sentence makes me feel like I'm talking about a prison or Hitler's Third Reich when it's really just a well-paying white collar job for a boss that happens to be insane. I think I was pretty honest about working at the bank, I knew it wasn't where I was supposed to be but it was a choice I made and it sort of paid the bills and I didn't have to work very hard. This is very much the same with a better pay scale and if he didn't keep asking me to do illegal things it would be almost even. Customers at the bank always treated me like a moron and now it's my boss.

Sometimes when I reflect on how I feel about work I think I'm over-reacting, it's like I'm complaining that the sky isn't blue enough. Then I think about my mom and what she would say about how this man treats people, me being one of them and I know if she were alive I wouldn't be working here. She wouldn't stand for it and I shouldn't either. 'Course she didn't need the paycheck.

Cranky (in which I whine a lot)

Dudes, I'm at work and I'm a ball of crank. If you looked up cranky in the dictionary it would totally say "there should be a picture of amy here but she was too cranky". I have a lot to do and I don't want to do any of it. They're all horrible things. I'm supposed to call the chicken place and convince them that we don't really need to meet the 400 dollar minimum order and can you please send us chickens. Did I tell my boss about the chicken dillemma Friday? I did. And about the $400 minimum? Yup. Did I leave him a very specific note to CALL ME BEFORE MONDAY if he wanted chickens? I did. But to no avail. He didn't call me because he didn't want to bother me (heh) so now I have to pull 50 chickens out of my ass which is so much more convenient, THANK YOU.

And also the other computer isn't here because on Friday you agreed to have it fixed. It's at the fixing place. Why are you asking me who's fixing it and where they are and if they're any good and did we drive that far NOW? Why didn't you ask me FRIDAY? You know, when I said it's time to get professional help (heh) and you said "OK, who do we call?" and I said the Mac guy and you said "ok". Remember that? No, well, obviously. You say you don't want to be hassled about the details and that you want people to just get the job done, well, that involves not telling you every detail about the fixing of a computer that you can't even turn on, 'kay? Also it's not my fault that envelope came back, I am not the post office...and you're grilling me about a STAMP after what happened Friday...NOT OK.

Amazingly I don't want to eat an antelope. I sort of do want a nap though. I want to sleep all the time though, A. because of the rain and B. things are crappy. The weather has been INSANE lately. Matt and I worried about drought for about ten minutes and then it started raining every damn day. I do my laundry with reckless abandon now and that's the most I have to look forward to. I did so well with not being really involved at work, it worked for a long time...5 months if I don't count the super shit-tastic first month. I don't know that I'm necessarily more emotionally attached, I'm just finding it more difficult to do the ridiculous things I'm asked to do. Maybe it's knowing that I could not be paid for doing those ridiculous things that makes me feel how terrible things are here. I'm the person that people are going to complain to when payroll doesn't go through, I'm the person who people threaten to punch when their suppliers don't get paid (oooh, Matt really liked that when I told him about it), I am the conduit to the boss and I really, really don't like it. I do not want people thinking that his insane decisions are mine, that all the mean spirited and cold things I'm asked to do are of my choosing, or god forbid that I actually LIKE him.

I always told myself I'd leave when I couldn't take it anymore "The money is good, just stay until you have to leave or something better comes around". How do you know when it's so bad you have to leave or is the fact that we aren't making payroll at the height of the season reason enough to pull the plug. The worst is what will I tell my father if I quit a job for no real reason except that it drives me crazy. He will laugh, and then he will dis-own me because work is supposed to be hard and you're not supposed to like it and tough luck. Although he might agree when he hears about the finances.

And apprapos of nothing I made some truly awful oatmeal raisin cookies this weekend, they were heinous. The recipe was so bad it should be burned out of the book. Mark Bittman How to Cook Everything I'm looking at you!

"Three weeks ago Tuesday we had summer."

I'm having the world's best cup of earl grey tea right now that almost makes up for the fact that yesterday I almost killed my boss. One of my duties as HR Manager is to talk everyone else down when they get to that point but often there is no one there to talk me down so I fester and then I explode and I end up poking the boyfriend awake at 3am because I CAN'T SLEEP! So far this morning I have sent two resumes and two inquiries and I'm feeling a bit desperate. It seems that I can't take it anymore. It's been a game for me for a while that I can take this job as long as I don't take it home, it's just a job. As long as I can remember that he's the boss and every dumb thing he does leads to his own destruction and maybe I can't catch the deluge in a paper cup and I should stop trying.

For almost six months now I've typed his ridiculous take my ball and go home letters, I've listened to him yell at people for hours only to have no resolution to any problem, and I've watched the messages from collection agencies pile up. The latter is the biggest problem and what really drove me up the wall yesterday. This week we very nearly almost didn't have enough money for payroll. Don't you think that if your company very nearly almost didn't have enough money for payroll you wouldn't stand around supervising people into getting 5 hours of overtime for absolutely no reason. When I approached him about it he yelled at the crew for working into overtime. Dude, you're the owner and the boss and their supervisor and if you think the Jamaican crew you're hollering at is going to volunteer that they're working into overtime you need a brain replacement. Dudes are here to work and if you're damn fool enough to work them into overtime on a non-urgent and also non-lucrative project it's very much your fault.

I've decided that I don't want to call that widower and tell him that we never sent him an estimate because the boss didn't think he had any money and sorry about that $100 deposit because you're not getting it back. I'm also not going to call that 100 year old lady in Milbridge to tell her she has to cough up 200 bucks to find out if we can replace her trees after her file was lost for almost a year. I'm not going to tell that employee that they're not allowed to file worker's comp because the boss thinks they're too fat and that's why they got injured. Nope, not going to do it. I hear they're hiring over at the McDonalds, that could work out.

"Distrust any enterprise that requires new clothes."

When I thought I was wearing that bridesmaid dress that I'm totally not wearing anymore unless the other one doesn't show up in time in which case I'll have to have my jaw wired shut to fit in it I thought I needed a new bra. You know, a dress bra. A bra that would make my DD's more like an A cup. A whale bone and titanium contraption that bends reality and mixes a really great martini. I really thought if I looked hard enough and opened my wallet wide enough I would find something that would make that dress (bigger) fit. I came to my senses and ordered another dress but not before I spent 100 dollars on new bras.

I'm blaming it on the sales girl. She was fucking amazing. If she was selling used cars off a dirt lot I'd have bought 6, heroine...I'd be a junkie, she was that good. I was only there to browse and she mesmerized me into a fitting room. She measured, chattered, and then brought me the biggest box of brassieres I've ever seen. She really had me convinced that she'd pull out nunchucks or similar if I didn't try them ALL on...so I did and ended up finding the most perfect bra ever. Really, it's the very best in breast technology, it's so perfect it practically hovers in the drawer. So I bought three. In the lexicon of things you buy in bulk when you find perfection...bras are pretty high. Bras, jeans, hair care products that stupid John Frieda discontinues, very important things one could live without but one would inevitably weep all the time.

I'm becoming such a girl in my old age, I bought cuticle cream yesterday. Cuticle cream, is there a less practical thing to spend money on? And tomorrow I schedule my next facial. Mostly these are wedding preparations but I'd be lying if I said I didn't sort of love it. It's so incredibly self indulgent to spend time and money on this sort of thing, it's awesome. I wish I'd discovered it earlier.