The Piano Man Incident

One of my friends loaned me Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs, so I'm reading it on the train. (Decent train reading, by the way. I find that short stories and essays make the best train fare. Also, this was free, and I will read just about anything I can get my hands on. I am a train book junkie.) Anyway, I just read the essay about Billy Joel (the whole premise of which is that Billy Joel is the only rock star who has managed to become a rock star without ever being cool), which reminded me of an incident from high school.

The Billy Joel Incident takes place on a marching band bus. My high school was not normal. Out of 1200 students in my high school, approximately 150 were in the marching band/color guard. Not that this made marching band cool, but it wasn't uncool, either. It just kind of was. Some people were in it, and some people weren't, and some people were way too into it, but it basically didn't matter where you fell. It also meant that a lot of the stereotypes about what sort of kid joins the marching band weren't true for my high school. Or, they were but there were a lot of other kids, too. The stoner guys who played drums or guitar in some crazy band on the weekend, the big eff-up who built his own monster truck, even a couple cheerleaders and football players were in the marching band.

We used 7 buses to transport the band and equipment to competitions, and you had to sign up to take the same bus all year, so the chaperones would be able to find you. (This replaced the old system of jumping onto the first bus you saw and then signing a sheet. The usual fake-name hijinx ensued, and my sophomore or junior year there were a couple chaperones who just never caught on to that...so change was inevitable.) People more or less coexisted but obviously wanted to be on a bus with people from their own clique. Most of the buses were pretty predictable: most of the guard rode on the same bus, most of the drummers did as well. And then there was
bus 3.

Bus 3 filled with cliques following stream of conscious, or possibly dream logic. (Two drum majors were friends, so all they signed up for a bus with their friends...and one of them was dating a piccolo player, so all the piccolos signed up for the same bus, and the other drum major figured she should be on that bus, so she signed up with her best friend who played the tuba, so the other tubas signed up...and none of these people got along.) By the second or third trip, people were literally climbing over the seats to beat each other up. I still don't know why the chaperones allowed this, or if they were just so dense that they never caught on. It's one of those
crazy things that happens when you're a kid, and it's cool at the time, and then when you're just a little bit older, you think "how did I get away with that? who was supposed to be watching me?"

The Billy Joel incident happened after the last competition - the big state competition at Giants Stadium. We had done pretty well the year before with a Copeland show (if you've ever been in marching band, you know that Copeland shows always score well). We placed in the top 20, and we had a great show. It was a Gershwin show and there were a lot of crazy things going on. Dancing and playing instruments we made out of pipes and trashcan lids and rotating boxes. It was craziness. That also meant that there were a lot of things that could go wrong. And, in retrospect, it was the year that our director planned a lot of really difficult, experimental stuff that didn't go over well with the judges. (This wasn't just the marching band, but my story is about the marching band, so I'm trying really hard not to get sidetracked.) The show didn't go very well. So we all got back on the bus, and everyone was just pi55ed. No one was talking. No one even wanted to beat each other up. It just wasn't fun anymore.

One of the guys in the back had a radio. He normally used it to find a Yankees game or some obnoxiously loud rock music. Then everyone else would yell at him until he turned it down. That day, he was fiddling with the radio at some obnoxious volume when he happened across Piano Man.

And everyone started singing.

Not just a little uncomfortable muttering the words, this was full-on preschool Wheels on the Bus abandon from people who barely wanted to share a vehicle and definitely did not share a taste in music. It was a moment.
It was magic.

As soon as the song ended, it was gone. People started yelling for him to bring the music back, or turn the radio down...but it didn't work. We were already back to talking with our friends and hitting each other. Same as it ever was, which I suppose was magic in a way since we had all been so morose a moment before. And then we got off the bus and got on with our lives. I don't remember discussing the incident with anyone. It happened, and then it was just gone - poof - into the ether.

Brilliant idea for cryptograms.

The day just flew at work, which was wonderful. I bought a calendar at Borders over the weekend because all calendars have been marked down to $1. (Our favorite Thai/Malaysian restaurant is right next to a Borders, so we often browse while we're waiting for our order.) Anyway, I bought a cryptograms desk calendar. I figured that I could use it to amuse myself when things are slow at work, and if I copy over the cryptogram, I might actually look like I'm doing work! I'm not a huge fan of cryptograms, by the way, but they'll do if I'm bored.

Anyway, while I was working out a cryptogram and reading a healthcare listserv, it hit me...wouldn't the best cryptograms be ones that can replace letters in words so that they form new words? I don't even know if that's possible, but I kind of want to try. THEN I thought it would be a good idea for a blog if I could create cryptograms of recent headlines, and the solution would point you to the article.

This is how bored I am, people.

In other news, I have to present our ESAT team's recommendations to the director this morning. I'm not too worried, particularly because I have a dopey section to present. It's short and stupid and obvious, so maybe I'd better worry a little bit more about adding something useful to someone else's section of the presentation. Hmm...can't worry too much, the presentation's at 9:00.

Then this afternoon I have a "one on one" with my manager, which I suppose is going to be about my goals for this year. We'll see. We all have them - even the girl who doesn't technically report to my manager anymore - so I'm sure we'll circle up later.

The work update

I actually wrote out a very long and detailed version of this post on the train...complete with ridiculous nicknames for the whole department, but I'm hoping to keep this shorter and clearer, if possible, so I'm going to free-write now and answer questions later.

Work sucks.

Don't get me wrong. I still like my job. I like writing instructions and letters. I like writing about medicine/health care, and I love writing for the women's health magazine, but the office is just effed up, and I'm not sure how long I can take it.

This is going to take a while to explain...it starts in December, when we got the results of the employee satisfaction survey (ESAT). They were, umm...lower than expected. The director's bonus is based on the ESAT scores. She was displeased. We then had an inquisition about how unhappy we are. Then she gave us Christmas presents.

A couple weeks later, the employee newsletter came out...and there was a typo in one of the subheads. Which the editor found and showed her boss. And then half the department got in trouble for missing that typo. (literally, a "b" and "p" were transposed.)

The next week, the director called a "quick team meeting." We all assumed we'd be getting another lecture about missing the typo. No...one of the girls was being promoted to manager of a newly-created national account group. My team currently supports the national accounts...so one of us would be going over to the new team.

Apparently, my manager found out about this at the same time we did, and she has handled it in her usual mature manner. I don't think she had a say in who was leaving, but she was supposed to hold a group meeting and tell us all what was going on. Of course that didn't happen. In fact, I'm the only person she's told, and she just threw it out there "and after K goes to the new group..." as if I was supposed to know already. It puts K in a bad position because she can't transition her ongoing projects. A. (my manager) has decided to "shake up" our current accounts, so she won't even tell K who's getting her old accounts...also, she's taking advantage of the fact that K's new manager doesn't have access to the database that lets her assign new work, so K's still getting new jobs for her old clients, and I'm still getting jobs for my old clients...which should be going to K. In fact, I'm not sure my clients are aware that I will no longer be working on their projects.

Now, this is pretty annoying, but I can almost excuse it because, in my more charitable moments, I have decided that A. has some sort of mental illness. She demonstrated this during our annual reviews, where she gave all 4 of us the exact same review - word for word - while refusing to look us in the eye. I know we all got the same review because it was completely inappropriate for three of us, so we all got together to discuss later. In the meantime...remember the typo debacle? Well, as a result of that smash-up, there will be a new zero tolerance editing policy for our 2008 reviews. That's right. If you have one mistake on one of your projects (and I typically have 15-20 at any given time) OR if there's a mistake on any project you proofread (and we have to get at least 20 signatures on everything we produce) you automatically get a Needs Improvement on your next review. This has made everyone so paranoid that they're making ridiculous formatting edits on things that are about to go to print, and, even worse, they're approving one document, and then when I try to route an identical document a week later...they're not signing off on it. They're asking for a million formatting changes.

Did I mention that there's also a new zero tolerance policy for missed deadlines, but only for the newsletters and posters? So that effects about 6 of us.

And that a few of the more friendly team members have been officially warned about socializing with specific people?(As in: It came up in our manager's meeting that you've been seen talking to Michelle. I just wanted to let you know that people have noticed.)

None of which is improving our ESAT, which, oh yes, is now tied to my bonus.

Every day I don't walk right off the job is a gift from God.

What is up with me?

I have been completely waterlogged all week. This is because I have (yet another) cold, and I'm just not hungry. Also, I'm trying to "flush it out," and you need an abundance of liquid for that.

As you may imagine, this liquid finds its way out at least every half hour, so that's lovely. What are you going to do, though, right? It has to go somewhere. Don't worry, I've only performed one deseperate act so far. I used the bathroom on the train Tuesday morning. I had to do it. I'm on the train for an hour. Tides change every half hour. It's not a good match.

I have been sick at least once a month since I started my new job. This seems to be a pattern in the office. Everyone tells me they were sick the whole first year they worked here, which is lovely. Does that mean I'm half-way done? Anyway, since 6 of the 8 people in my row started in the last 6 months, we're all sick. Plus one of the "vets" catches every chest cold that comes around, so only one person in our row is healthy. The graphics manager calls us Ground Zero.

I think I woke up every two hours Tuesday night because I would fall asleep on one side and the lymph node on that side of my throat would start killing me, so then I'd roll onto my back and start snoring. Yes, I wake myself up with my own snoring. Yes, it is very embarrassing, thank you, even when you're only half awake. Actually, I suspect that I can blame Matt for half the times I woke up. I know he woke me up at least once because I was snoring. I suspect that he was just trying to roll me over when I got belligerent. (If you wake me up, don't expect Nice Marisa to be home. I usually wake up angry and incoherent. Matt has better luck than Ben did. Sometimes I barely feel angry at all by the time I'm aware of him. Most of the time, though, I wake up to him chanting some sort of protective spell like "It's just me. You're ok. It's just me..." or the one he was using Tuesday night "Matt loves you. You were snoring. Matt loves you..." He may be trying to implant a subliminal message.) So I can probably blame him for some of the waking up on my side moments...

Poor Matt. He probably didn't get any sleep, either. I know how miserable it is trying to sleep in the same room as a snorer. And then he tries to roll me over to get some relief and I wake up angry. This was only Tuesday, though. Since then, I seem to be sleeping fine, if a little - or a lot - more than usual.

Somehow, I managed to get ready for work and put myself on a train. Even more miraculously, I seem to be getting stuff done this week. No, really. I've been really productive. Even though one of the production managers LOST one of my jobs and I'm still getting assignments that should be going to the new National Accounts team, and the zero tolerance policy is causing people to make stupid edits on all my jobs...I'm doing OK.

There will be separate posts on the job and family situations tonight or tomorrow. I promise. Bug me if I don't post something, because I have a lot of things I need to say. I just have to catch a train now...

Weekend Update

This is my weekend of booked-up-ed-ness. Last night, we had dinner with the in-laws, which was maybe not the most pleasant they have ever been, but definitely in the top 20%. It is difficult for them to behave once they are removed from their natural surroundings, so I picked a restaurant they like that is, like, 2 blocks from their house. This didn't stop them from 1. getting there early - on purpose - and 2. ordering apps that they know I can't eat. (Which they always do, and it's usually not a big deal, but come on people. If you're taking the vegetarian out for her birthday, and you are too starving to wait for her to get to the restaurant, at least have the decency to order a vegetarian app.

But other than that brief incident and a little talk about people's heart problems and their inability to stick to a heart healthy diet, they were basically well-behaved. I was proud of them.

Today, Matty and I are going to see Curtains. It was a birthday present from my parents. Hopefully, that will be fun. We haven't had a "run around New York" day in a while, so I'm kind of looking forward to it. I'm looking forward to seeing the play, but I also just want to do nothing today, so I'm hoping that will change once I start moving.

And, of course, tomorrow is the super bowl. Party at Lauren's. I'm making veggie chili. It should be a good time, but a late night. We'll see. Maybe I will have an update later. Or maybe I will pass out. Because my life is so exciting I can hardly stand it. :)

Trapped on the Train

I had every intention of writing a post last night, but it had to wait until this morning. See, Neil was over until about 10:30, and then by the time we cleaned up, I was already up late and I didn't even do anything. I thought I might post while he was here, but it turned out not to be that kind of party, and then I thought I might have some time before he got here...but that was also thwarted because I was trapped on the train.

Can I just say that, since I read World War Z -ON THE TRAIN, getting trapped on the train is my own personal nightmare. Seriously, if the zombies get me, it will be on the Northeast Corridor. Last night, I got a seat right away, which was good, but it was next to a guy eating peanuts, which was bad.

Princeton Junction:
Peanuts are stinky. Do not eat them on the train. Also, tuna. Thank you.
Your BFFs,
Hamilton and Trenton

Well, whatever. It's not like I'm allergic to peanuts. Although every time I see people eating them on the train, I think about all those kids who may or may not have airborne peanut allergies so their moms have the whole school made "peanut free." What the eff happens if they get on the train? Specifically, I would like to see a barroom-style brawl between one of the entitled peanut-munchers and one of the entitled yuppie moms who drag 6 kids in to New York during rush hour.

As long as there are no zombies.

Moving right along, because we were, the train comes to a complete stop. Then the conductor comes on to announce that a train in front of us has broken down at Princeton Junction, so we're stuck until they fix it. An hour later, I was home. I wish it were a better story than that, but other than breaking the Commuter Code of Silence, people were pretty cool. And no one broke The Code to yell or anything, so I am cool with that.

So that is why I came home to find two mystified boys standing in my kitchen, trying to figure out how to get a ball of pizza dough into a pan. They were looking for the rolling pin when I intervened.

I am so sleepy right now...and it's not even 10 a.m. (Of course it will be by the time I get around to posting this, but you will just have to trust that I wrote it down by the station early in the morning...)

Like the good little girl I am, I got on an early, early train with Matt this morning. He had an interview in New York at 9 a.m., and he was nervous that he wouldn't make it in time if we took my usual 7:17. So I agreed to get on the 6:56 with him so he would be less nervous and we could save $6 on parking. Which is fine...except we actually made it in earlier than I anticipated, and we got on the 6:46...so I got here before 7:30. And now I am so tired. Normally, I would leave early...except we have an off-site meeting this afternoon, so I can't even do that. Matt seemed to appreciate the company, so it is ok. Anyway, it's not like I have a very taxing afternoon. I just have to be awake enough to participate in any presentations that require it and to avoid zoning out on the rest.

It's making my whole week go faster. I feel like this is the longest week I've had in a while, so I've been looking forward to the prospect of getting out for a little bit this afternoon. Next week I have a few interesting meetings (a shower and a team meeting...which I know doesn't sound very interesting, but sometimes they are) and then the next week I have a day off, so yay!

Less yay-inducingly, Matt will be away for most of next week. I will miss him, and I'll have to drive to Philly at times when I should be asleep, so I'm not really looking forward to this trip...except that Matt might get a job offer out of it, and that would be very good for both of us. I think he's getting a little discouraged. Not that I think he should - the jobs he really wants are still on the table - but he'll feel better once he has an offer in hand. And it sounds like he may get that next week, so that will be good. Also, a few of these interview processes are dragging out for
months now, and I think he's starting to get a bad feeling about them...even though the companies have assured him that they like him. So I don't know.

This is Tuesday's Post

So, last night I went to bed around 9. I didn't plan to. I didn't even feel tired. I just lay down and never got up. Of course that means that I didn't get anything done last night, and there were things that needed to be done, but I suppose I'll get to them tonight. BUT that means that I didn't post my blog entry for last night, and I apologize for that. I did write it. I just didn't post it. So there are two today. I did manage to sign up for the gym at work and cancel a credit card that I forgot I had until they sent me a new card (oops). I also remembered to call to check on the status of my monthly parking pass, which is key because the price of daily parking just increased by a dollar a day, which means that the difference between daily parking and monthly parking costs is roughly the same as my new gym membership. I've been told that you suddenly get your parking pass after you call them, so we'll see...

And then, just because Matt was being so sweet about taking my car for her check-up...I forgot to take his car this morning. I got to work, and I thought...hmmmm...I was supposed to do something this morning...then I called Matt and apologized, but he had already rescheduled Emmie's appointment. (My car's name is Emmie, in case you didn't catch that the first time.) So now I really can't forget to take Matt's car on Friday or he will kick me in the head.

In other exciting news, I got 7...yes 7...new assignments today. 5 of them are exactly the same flyer with one image changed, but oh well. It was exciting to get that little flurry of email.

This is Wednesday's Post

Did anyone notice the new xerox logo? It's all lower case and has a cute red ball with a white X on it (obviously, this part of the logo is also a tchochke). In other words, the complete opposite of the previous all caps logo. I don't think it's a bad logo...I just think it's wrong for Xerox.

I see where they were going - I mean, they kind of beat you over the head with it - but if there was ever a brand that doesn't need to be cute and cuddly, it's Xerox. Also, if you were a company that made copying machines, wouldn't you want the logo with the cleanest lines? The one that would still look good when it had been copied a million times? Or would you go with the cute/cuddly lower case letters that are two copies away from being mushety-gook?

In other news, I am so annoyed at people not following their own procedures. Yesterday, I signed up for the gym at work. You sign up through the intranet, and then you're supposed to call them and set up a time for orientation. They give you an extension to call for this. Well, I signed up late yesterday, so I didn't call until this morning. In the meantime, the head of the gym sent out an email to me and 4-5 people who work in the gym. No text, just the confirmation that I joined the gym. I have no idea what that was about or why I was copied on that email. So I called the extension listed on the intranet. No one answered the phone, so I left a voicemail. A
half hour later, I got a call from the head of the gym saying that I have to call a different extension and talk to the girl who schedules things. Ok...because you can't put that extension on your own web page or give her the message to call me back? But, fine. So I call the other extension, the girl talks to me on speaker phone, which is seriously annoying, and she tells me that she's going to send out an email and I have to reply to that email to set up the appointment. This is fine. I have no problem with that. I actually would have preferred to handle the entire process over email, or, even better, from the same form I used to sign up. Since all new members have to go through orientation, it would seem like a good idea to have some kind of calendar function on the form, right? Even if it's just pick three days/times (monday morning, tuesday afternoon, wednesday lunch, etc...) but no.

So now I am annoyed that these people can't follow their own procedures and can't accomodate me when I make the effort to follow their procedures. I mean, I'm sorry, but I don't really want to call you. I don't want to talk to you. I just want you to leave me alone while I use this machine over here.

This is Monday's Post...

Well, the chair has arrived, and it's actually pretty good. I don't think I'll be sitting in it any time soon, or possibly ever, but the cats love love love it, and it's nice to have a seat by another outlet. (Our couch blocks one of the outlets in our living room, so when Matt wants to work
from home - which is often - he has to sit at the far end of the couch by the window. It gets kind of cold.) It's still leather, which is kind of eww, and it's really soft, which I don't like. I feel like I'm going to fall out of it. But, it's much smaller than anticipated, so that is good. It's not taking up the whole living room. And it's versatile enough. I mean, it matches ok with our living room furniture, but we could move it to
the office or a rec room if we had the room for it.

I was actually in a pretty good mood this morning - even though Tiki woke us up at 5 and I forgot my badge, which is kind of an awful process. Unlike Covance, I can't just sign myself in and get a visitor's badge. Here, I have to stand by the front desk while they take my picture, which they print onto this sticker that I guess I'm supposed to wear, and then I have to get someone to come down and get me. I'm supposed to get a manager from my department to do that, but they're not always in when I get here, so that means that I just call the people who get in early. Luckily, today Karen saw me on her way in, so she got me. It's so stupid. I mean, once I have the stupid sticker, I can just walk through the gate. I show them ID and tell them my supervisor's name and mail stop to go on the sticker, so I don't know why I can't just get on the elevator myself. Oh well. I've only forgotten my badge twice, so it's not like this is constantly annoying me. Nevertheless, I am in a good mood today, and that counts for a lot.

The company sponsored a free coffee day today, so I am now enjoying my free coffee, which I would have bought anyway since Monday is usually 50 cent coffee day. So that is nice. They also have a hat/glove vendor downstairs, so I'm thinking about getting some gloves. We'll see. The gloves I have to go with my warmest coat are angora, and it's just not practical. I mean, I have the greatest chance of needing to clear off my car when I'm wearing that coat, so those gloves see the most wet work. I need something a little more substantial. I also can't find the gloves that go with my dress coat. I may have thrown them out and forgotten about them. My grandma gave them to me for my birthday, and they were chenille, so you can imagine how well they held up. I know I went through two pairs of them last year (coincidentally? Grandma gave my mother an identical pair for Christmas, so when mine got a hole, she gave me hers.)

This week will go by quickly, and I'm not sure if that's a good thing. I don't have much to do at work, but I'm hoping to start on the next issue of the women's health magazine this week (I need to wait for the disease management team to approve article topics, which should happen tomorrow or Wednesday). We have an in-service day Thursday, so I know I'll be busy all that day. Matt is leaving for CA on Sunday, which is not so nice. He has interviews on Monday and Tuesday, so that's good for him, but it's still rough. I'm used to having him here. And I'm really not looking forward to driving him to the airport at 5 a.m. on Sunday. I'm thinking maybe I shouldn't even go to bed Saturday night. (Who am I kidding? That can only lead to disaster.) But that will probably make the weekend fly by.

Devious

My cats are most sneaky.

Shadow had a UTI a few weeks ago, and she's still eating prescription cat food, so we have to feed them separately. I feed Shadow where their dish has always been (I didn't want to disrupt her routine too much since she had to switch foods.) and I feed Tiki in the office. Tiki watches me feed Shadow, and then she trots after me to get her food. They were both happy with this arrangement until last night, when Tiki suddenly developed a keen interest in Shadow's food. I kind of hoped that this was a one-time thing, but then I discovered Shadow over at Tiki's bowl, munching Tiki's food. *sigh* So I picked up their bowls and hoped for the best.

When I fed them this morning, Tiki didn't follow me into the office to munch her food. So I was Suspicious. And sure enough, five minutes later, she sticks her paw in Shadow's dish and shovels a piece of food in her mouth - Shadow-style. (I don't know if I've ever told you about that, but
Shadow is a very messy eater. She can't just stick her head in the bowl like a normal cat. No, she scoops up a piece of food in her mouth, drops it on her paw and shoves it back in her mouth. Food gets "lost" at every step of this process. It was worse when we kept her bowl in the kitchen because she would wind up scooting it all over the place and pushing food under the congoleum. Now we keep it on the carpet so she can't move it, and we just have to vaccuum up the stray pieces of food.) So I pick Tiki up and put her in front of her food, and she sticks her little face in her bowl...and five minutes later, she's back at Shadow's dish. So this time, after I put her
in the office, I shut the door. Well, Tiki was not happy with that. She started crying and crying, but I figured I'd go in there with her once I was ready for work and then she'd calm down...so I went about my business getting ready. And when I emerged, not more than 10 min. later, the door is wide open and Tiki is sitting in the hall staring at me.

So here's the thing...Tiki has never figured out how to open doors. She just scratches on them and cries until someone opens them. Alternatively, she'll sit next to Shadow and let Shadow open the door. (Shadow just gets up on her hind legs and leans on the door until it swings open. She can only do this trick in the winter when the doors don't close too tightly. You would think that, after watching Shadow do this a few times, Tiki would catch on, but notsomuch.) Plus the office door opens inward. So then I thought Shadow busted her out! She heard Tiki crying and she opened the door. She is so defiant! She's like "Haha, Mommy! Shadow shows you!"
Only then when Matt fed them tonight, he repeated the experiment, and Tiki got out while Shadow was in the other room. So then we tried it one more time and we both watched the door.
First Tiki cried. Then we saw a little paw slide under the door and hook up and pull. (No, I'm not kidding, and, yes, it looked fake.) This happened a couple times, until it attracted Shadow's attention and she started batting at Tiki's paw. Then Tiki backed off until Shadow lost interest again and left. By this time, the door was open a few inches, but not enough for Tiki to fit through, so she continued the paw/hook routine on the side of the door until it swung open.
Sneaky Tiki! She's only playing dumb. I'll have to watch her more carefully from now on.

My Glorious Morning

By the time I (finally) got home last night, I was starving. Starveling, as my mom would say. And all I could think of was mac n cheese. Now, Matt had bought some brie for new year's, which I hadn't eaten, but he had tasted it and said it tasted a little like broccoli. I thought that was pretty gross but figured that once it was melted, I wouldn't notice it, and I added some broccoli, just to be sure. I also obsessively tried to look up any bacteria/food poisoning candidates that smell like broccoli, but I had no luck. I did find a few cheese aficionado blogs where they described a cheese as tasting like broccoli, so I figured it was fine. (I also found a lot of fart jokes, but you already knew that, right?)

Anyway, I made the mac n cheese, and it was delicious. I didn't notice any weird broccoli taste...and then later that night, I opened the refrigerator and the whole thing smelled like broccoli, which seemed to emanate from the cheese, so I threw it out. That's when I started to feel worried for my health, but, hey, Matt had eaten it the night before and he didn't get sick. I'm probably just paranoid about a stinky cheese.
And then three hours later I was sick as a dog. So, while I was waiting for my heating pad to, well, heat, between trips to the bathroom, I asked my darling husband if he felt sick at all after he ate the brie.
"Oh, yeah." he said. "All day." So, why didn't you throw it out? "What do you mean? Didn't we throw it out?" Yes. After I ate it.

So now, I have the after effects of what I hope is a minor case of food poisoning, but I dragged myself in to work, even though I feel like ass, and then there was some kind of Great Train Disaster this morning, and I was standing on the platform for about a half hour, and it was about 10-15 degrees out, so lovely balmy weather, waiting for a train...because there was a downed wire...again. Just like last night, only colder and with less shelter. I really bundled up today because the last block of my commute is some kind of wind tunnel, so I was mostly fine, except for my feet. Maybe I need to invest in some fUggs or something. I don't know, but I was dancing back and forth to break contact with the ground. (That is a little trick/old wives tale I learned back when I used to be a semi-professional Christmas caroller. One of the other women would always bring these rug samples for everyone to stand on. At the time, I didn't find it too helpful, but kicking certainly helped me today.) So this delightful display was followed by almost 2 hours on the freaking train. Sitting between two women who decided to eat their stinky lunches on the train, which was pretty fabulous. I tried to read for a while, but then I was too cranky, so I just played games on my phone for a while, and then I stared out the window for a while. I left the house before 7, and I got to work around 9:30. That's OK, though, because one of the women in my office left her house around 6 because her son was trying to take the train to the airport, and then, after 2 hours on the train, they found out that all trains to the airport were cancelled. So he had to go to the Newark station and find a bus to the airport. (Luckily, some nice NJ Transit employee escorted them to the proper bus. Otherwise, who knows what would have happened.) Good morning, huh?
BUT...I only waited about 3 minutes for my train coming home, and then I got a 3-seater to myself, so that's a little better. It doesn't make up for the last two commutes, but it was a nice gesture.

One last note

Also, all trains coming out of New York Penn Station last night were delayed a half hour, so I spent a half hour crammed onto a platform in Newark and got home around 7.

It was awesome.

My Enormous Chair

My mother's friend, Nancy, who I have never met, is giving us a chair. Not just any chair - a red
leather chair with a matching ottoman (turned arms, hammered-something finish. I'm a vegetarian. I have no clue what I'm talking about here). Don't ask me where we're going to put it, but it's a-coming.

Apparently, Nancy ordered herself a red leather couch, and it came with a chair and two ottomans, but she already has a chair, and really, who needs two ottomans? It was very nice of her to think of us, and I do appreciate it, and I'm sure that some year when we have more room I'll be grateful that we don't have to buy one more chair...it's just, well, the phrase "red leather club chair" throws up a few flags for me...

1. Red: Do you mean burgundy red? Candy apple red? Fire engine red? My mother assumes that the chair is burgundy red, which is a lovely color that will match with our existing brown furniture...but I have an internet connection, so I'm not so sure. (Plus, I don't know Nancy. My mother works with a few Nancys, and I'm not sure which one this is. Does this Nancy have a stoplight themed living room?
2. Leather: Maybe it's the vegetarian thing, or maybe it's an Old Italian Relatives flashback, but I find leather furniture kind of creepy. It's just creaky and sticky and...I'd rather not talk about this, ok?
3. Club chair: This phrase could mean a whole host of chair designs, ranging from good-old-boys hunting lodge decor to little u-shaped waiting room chair to medieval throne. Some of which are better for my apartment, and some of which are better for regional theater productions of Dracula. I'm just saying.

I know this makes me sound like a brat, and really it is very nice of her, and I appreciate the offer. I'm just a little leery. I mean, we have nowhere to put it, it's just one more thing we'll have to move in a couple months. I just wish there was a gracious way to turn this down. I told
my mother, several times, that we had no room for it, and I didn't really want it, but she kept pushing. I guess she felt like I had to take it for some reason. I don't know.

So Nancy insisted that it was really tiny and she could carry it out to my mom's car by herself...so fine, the chair is coming. Well, then the woman runs home on her lunch break and comes back with the two ottomans, which I really didn't want, but I guess I'm getting anyway, and she puts them in my mother's car. Oook. So now I'm getting a chair and two ottomans. Also, the "tiny" chair is now too big for one person to carry, and it's blocked into the room somehow, so we need to send two people to pick it up.
The next day.
Because she's having an elliptical delivered.
That's when I reminded my mom that I don't really want this chair. So she tells Nancy that we can't pick it up before Saturday, and Nancy seems to be happy with that. So I'm getting the chair on Saturday, and I have to clear space in my apartment before then.

Right...so remember the ottomans? Well, we went up to my parents' yesterday, and those things are enormous. They are the height of my couch, and bigger than my end tables. They're at least 3x3. So, what size chair needs an ottoman that big??? I am starting to be a little bit afraid of this chair. We only have one ottoman at the moment because that's all that would fit in my car. So I guess I have to figure out how to rearrange my living room to accommodate this enormous creepy chair that I don't want. On the plus side, this is the perfect opportunity to turn the living room into a circus. I'll make the cats jump through hoops from one ottoman to the other. Then I'll invite people over to sit on all our chairs and couches, and Matt can thread his way through the furniture with bags of popcorn.

The Kitty-Cat Club

My parents got my cats a strobe light for Christmas - like they're a couple
of ravers or something. OK, so I'm exaggerating, but not by much. The toy in
question is about the size of a golf ball, and it flashes bright blue,
green, and red lights when they kick it. This is not some beatific glow,
either. We are talking seizure-inducing strobe lights, here. Seriously,
Matt and I were a little afraid of it. It's a little kitty disco ball. I
tried to find a picture of it online, but so far I've been unsuccessful. Of
course, Tiki loves it. Tiki loves anything. Yarn, electric cords, knitting
needles, tennis balls...everything looks like a toy to Miss Tik. Shadow
stares at it intently, but she is still not sure she should investigate
that thing. The problem, besides the whole epilepsy thing, is that this toy
is pretty heavy. It makes sense, if you think about it. I mean, the ball is
hard plastic and it has three little lights in it. Of course it's heavy.
It's not too heavy for Tiki to bat around, but when she inevitably bangs it
into a wall, it makes a seriously loud cracking noise - it was loud enough
that Matt asked me to take the ball away from her this morning because he
was trying to sleep. The other problem I see is flashing lights themselves.
Not every movement makes them flash, so sometimes Tiki will kick the ball
and nothing happens. Then she loses interest. The other problem, which I
suspect is Shadow's problem with the ball, is that the lights are flashing.
There's a lot of light, but it's not a sustained light. They both like to
chase a laser pointer, but I think the flashing just doesn't hold the same
appeal. I think if one sustained light came up every time the ball rolled,
they would like it a lot more. Also, I wouldn't be so concerned for my
neurological health. Still, Tiki does play with it, so I can't give it too
bad of a review. Anything that keeps that little spaz entertained for more
than 30 seconds is OK in my book.

Four Months Late

So, it only took me 4 months after my wedding, but I finally uploaded some pictures. I figured I'd post a link just in case anyone ever reads this thing. I'm going to a baby shower this afternoon, and I just found out that my mom, sister, grandmothers and I are the only ones from our side of the family showing up - it's all the father's side. Nice. Maybe this means we can escape at a decent hour? I mean, honestly, who schedules a baby shower to start at 4?

Neil's moving out this week. I'm kind of sad about that. The boys are not having much of a reaction, which I guess is to be expected since they're boys. But then the next week we move into our new apartment, which I suppose will be exciting. Nice to have our own space and our own home.

Also, if I usually talk to you during the week and I didn't this week, I apologize. Work took over my life this past week, but I'm hoping that's over now.

Art of the found object

I hate cleaning my room. I especially hate cleaning my room at my parents' house because that just means I'm throwing stuff out. And every time I try to do that, I pick something up that I have no use for but just can't throw out. Rinse, repeat.

Rinse.

Repeat.

So, today I was doing some light cleaning. Nothing crazy, just the piles of mail that my parents create in my absense, but in the bottom of one of the boxes, I found the program to Mike Benjamin's senior recital.

That means nothing to you, does it? Mike lived 2 doors down from me freshman year. Jo, Jay, 'n' me, then Quincy and Saffy, then Mike and Nick. During orientation, Mike sat cross-legged in the hall holding a quarter and told us that when he dropped it, that would mean he'd hypnotized himself. He insisted that the care packages the school provided all the dorm residents came with condoms - which none of the rest of us ever saw. He used to peer between my door and the frame to say hi, which scared the crap out of Jo. And maybe we weren't friends, but everyone knew him. Even Celeste - who only came down for a summer internship - knew who Mike was by the end of the summer. And whenever I saw him, we could talk. He was a Music Education major, and I don't think life has been too kind to him since graduation. The last I heard, he was working at Staples.

He spent weeks trying to convince anyone who would listen to come to his senior recital, but I knew no one would go. He made announcements in marching band. He sent out mass emails. He brought it up at the bar. No one was going to go. It was scheduled for the day after the last football game. The night before the game, I went to dinner with Mike, Jessica, and Ben. We had all lived on the same hall freshman year but grown apart since. He practically begged us to go, and Ben and I agreed.

Except we broke up the next day. On the bus back from the football field and in the alcove in the music building where we used to eat our lunch. And the parking lot outside his dorm, until I promised him we'd see each other again. But not that weekend. We would not go to Mike's recital.

I went home to find that Dee and Dave had broken up (again). Our other roommates were out. Matty had stopped by the game after taking the GREs, so I called and he came over...and told me that when I felt like not being single anymore he knew a guy...named Matty.

The next morning, my roommate raced me to the phone, saying I'd better ask Matt out before she did. So I called him again and invited him to the first thing that came to mind. Mike's recital.

I don't think Mike knew we were together or even that Ben and I had broken up the day before. We said hi, wished him good luck, and spent an hour or so fidgeting on folding chairs, holding hands, worrying that Ben would show up. I know we spent the whole day together, and it must have been wonderful, but the rest of the date is a blur.

I don't know how many movie tickets I've thrown out. I'm not sure where all the valentines and birthday cards have gone. But somewhere in my room, there's a blue sheet of paper I probably should have thrown out years ago, and the next time I find it, I'll be just as happy as I am now.

The brother I never wanted

Last week, my department took the Myers-Briggs Type Index, which was great, but apparently a lot of people had taken it together before. The day before our workshop, two of my coworkers had this conversation.

"Do you remember what your type is?"
"Special."
"I'm sure that's what they told you, but that's really not a type."
"Oh, then I was Awesome."

Anyway, it turned out that I had the same type as everyone I interviewed with, but the description didn't feel right for some reason...so then I took it again when I got home and, while the individual letters didn't always sound right, the overall description sounded just like me. And, the type I think Matt is (he won't take the test for some reason) is the same type as my "annoying brother" coworker.

We get along ok (coworker and I) most days. Actually, most days, we barely talk, but when he's in a bad mood, he transforms into The Brother I Never Wanted. And then I see him every 5 minutes, when he comes around to throw things at me or poke me with his coffee stirrer or just to make faces at me. We had one of those days last week, so I asked him what was up with him.

"I'm just pissed off today."
"And how is that different from any other day?"
"Well, usually I'm sassy and delightful."

I walked away after that. By the afternoon, he was back to basically ignoring me. Unfortunately, Matt's been in the same annoying mood this week. I told him he was the brother I never wanted, and he seemed kind of pleased with that, even after I pointed out how icky that is. Other than that and a brief power struggle over who was going to do the dishes that have been sitting in the sink since Wednesday, we've been doing really well this week. I can't believe the wedding is in a month. Eep, is that ever close. One of Matt's cousins invited herself and her 3 SMALL CHILDREN to our wedding this week. I was ready to stab someone after I got that call, but Matt's mom is willing to pay for them, so I'm pretending to be the classy one here. I mean, seriously. We don't know you. Your parents aren't coming. You weren't invited. Why are you insisting on forcing us to pay for you to be at our wedding? At least they've had 5 "no"s already, so I feel a little better.

Soul and Breath

So, twice this week - and it's only Tuesday -the fortune on my teabag has said Your breath is the voice of your soul.

Do you think this is another message, like the time over the summer that my teabag called me schizophrenic? And if my breath is the voice of my soul, then my soul is seriously not a morning person. Is my soul sick in the morning? (If so, I submit that mint tea and toothpaste may just be the Balm in Gilead.) Do garlic and asparagas turn your soul foul? Are diabetics naturally sweet-souled? Is Listerine an outreach of Lutheran World Relief?

And, if we accept all this as true, just how good for my soul is this cup of black chai? Obviously, it's beating out coffee and cigarettes, but can it restore my soul better than, say, a tic tac?

Of course, two weeks ago this same box of tea yielded this little gem (which I taped up in my cube):
When you know that all is light, you are enlightened. I'm beginning to think that the yogi who made this box of tea is defective.

Did you know that my mother ordered stamps with Matt's and my faces on them for the wedding invitations? It's true - but she didn't order enough for everyone, so don't feel too bad if you didn't make the A list. Once I start getting my cancelled face back in the mail, I plan to make a collage, possibly to scan and to post. Is this really necessary? I don't think the world really needs a stamp of me.

This popped up today on a work-related d-list. You can probably skip the content column - it's only mildly amusing, and it won't tell you anything you don't already know. No, I really CnPed this link so you could see the comments on the left. This guy has included the usual "2 thumbs way way waaaaaaaaaay up" and "This talk is brilliant! My love is pure!" Cheerific garbage, but he's also included "abuses his platform to discuss hotbutton issues" and "likes to hear himself talk."

Truly, his brave selection of user feedback is the most valuable content on this page. We can all learn from his magical example. Maybe I should send him some of my tea...

No Man's Land

So, I'm getting married in 7 weeks. Deposits have been made. Invitations have been sent. Dresses have been bought. I don't have to do a whole lot of new stuff. Next month I'll check in with vendors, and I'm sure small things will come up, but I'm just about done with this "engaged" business.

I say that because I know what I'm about to say is both perfectly normal and totally irritating. Every aspect of my life is in flux, so of course I'm feeling insecure, but things will resolve. And things are changing for the better, but it doesn't always feel like it.

I have to stop myself from calling Matt my husband. Sometimes that doesn't happen in time. For instance, today when I had to pull over in a sketchy motel's parking lot because Matt thought he was going to throw up, and I decided to take a plastic cup from the cleaning lady's cart in case I couldn't pull over the next time he decided to hurl, and then she came out and stared at me as I swiped her supplies, and I was all "I'm sorry. My husband is about to throw up." (emphasis added. I hope I'm not one of those people who walks around like "well, my boyfriend says...") Now, first of all, that is inaccurate, in that Matt is not my husband. And, also, that doesn't really make any sense in context. Third, I have no idea if she spoke English, and I would have taken the cup even if she had tried to hit me with a broom or something. I was tending to my precious, and no one was going to get in my way. Tending to Matt was the most important thing in the world today. Because he is my little family now.

But, at the same time, I feel very single. Free to flirt. Not that there's anyone to flirt with. I think that's because things haven't been going so well at home. Not that things are bad. We get along just fine, and we haven't been fighting over our space or anything. The problem is that we act a little too much like roommates. Roommates who are all up in each other's faces all the time (literally) but roommates. Part of the problem is that Matt has been really stressed lately. So much so that he's making himself sick - hence the plastic cup story. And part of the problem is that I still don't have much of a life here. I never really had friends in Princeton. I have a couple up in Hoboken, and a couple down in Philly/DE, but no one I can just call to hang out when Matt works late. People are friendly at work, but I feel like I've moved backwards there a little. Like I have to fight my way back into the clique. It might be me. I haven't been too busy lately, and when I have nothing to do, I tend to stay at my desk because I feel like I'm annoying people by wandering the office. And I'm not exactly planning activities, either, but I feel like I'm being left out.

It's frustrating. I feel like I should know more and belong more than I actually do. I'm new, but I'm not, and I want to get out of this grey space as soon as possible, because it is a good job, and a nice office, and these people used to be my friends over the summer. They still are. I just have to get back into whatever routine we were in before. And it doesn't help that I'm working out of both offices. While that's good for the commute, I don't feel like I'm really bonding with either team.

But then, every once in a while, I have a day where I remember what I loved about this job over the summer, and Matt and I do something after work, and one of my friends actually returns my calls, and I feel like everything is going to be ok. Matt and I are working on planning more activities together. I have more work to do this week, which makes me feel more free to socialize in my downtime. I spent less than half my weekend working on wedding stuff, so I don't feel so much like part of a machine.

And I want to write again. Just get everything out, and be interesting to talk to and listen to and read again. And I have so much happy/interesting things to say, I think.

Just as soon as I get out of this no man's land.