listening to myself

Yesterday I took some bad professional advice and I regret it now. Nothing terrible happened, but I made a valuable employee feel slightly less valued because I didn't trust my instincts. It was a silly situation and it's all smoothed over now with no loss of property, but I really wish I could erase about 5 minutes of yesterday.

At first I was irritated with the person who gave me that advice -- that person was minding my business. But I'm the one who took the advice and acted, so I'm irritated with myself. I'll forgive myself and move on -- my employee has forgiven me -- but I have to record my blunder so I'll be sure to learn my lesson. Sometimes I'm just a dunce.

Now I've got that 311 song in my head. I'm gonna have to buy it and put it on my iPod... that'll make me feel better!

Dang, it's been a while

I'm at home sick today and I'm in that place where I can't sleep right now. I watched bad TV for 3 hours straight last nite and I just can't stand one more second of it. I don't think we get Sesame Street here.

How shall I try to catch up? I'm reading a fascinating book titled, How to Say it for Women: Communicating with Confidence and Power Using the Language of Success. Oh, it's good! It deals with writing and speaking and identifies ways that women's use of language makes them seem puny and weak. It's forcing me to look at my own business writing and speech and allowing me to speak more clearly and forcefully. And for the record, my writing here breaks every rule -- this ain't biz-ness. There's another blog for that.

What else? Oh! My job has made me cooler, can you believe that? This smart lady who's working with us wanted to investigate using iPods and podcasting for educational purposes, so she wrote a proposal that funded everyone in my department getting an iPod. Can you dig it? So now I've got a mini and I've put lotsa good music on it and I've found some pretty good podcasts that I can listen to on my long commute to my job. Not too shabby, eh?

The best thing going on lately is that it's finally HOT and HUMID outside. Over 90 degrees and sticky puts me at my best. I've even gotten on my bike to ride with my husband a couple of times in the past weeks. I'm happy to have any reason to be outside in it.

I can't believe I didn't write yet about my neices' dance recital. Both girls (ages 6 and 4) are the youngest girls in their classes and by far the cutest. The 6 year old was born in awe of older girls, so she worked hard to keep up with them and gave a strong performance. I recognized a look of intense concentration on her face. The 4 year old is amazing in that she always has her head in some alternate plane that none of us can really see. When she was on stage and the other girls were dancing, she was very involved with the beaded leash connecting the poodle on her skirt to her waistband. Watching her live her own reality gives me deep joy. I got the news about the recital at the last minute and had to scold everyone around me. Next year, I'll have that recital on my calendar on the day they start classes. Aunt Miss Kate is all about dance recitals. Heck, Aunt Miss Kate is all about the dress rehearsal for the dance recital.

And now, I will sleep.

livin' it

On Friday, our good friend retired from active duty in the military. After 20 years, it's a big deal, so he and his wife planned a big celebration with his birth family and his chosen family (we are of the latter group). His birth family gave him and his wife some reasons to be stressed and cranky, so mine and my husband's job this weekend to was to make both of our friends as happy as possible during all the party-giving and family-transporting. We did our best to give him the celebration he deserves and I believe we were successful.

Later this week I'm going down to Texas to see my good family where one of my sisters is graduating from college. Another of my sisters graduated from high school last weekend. I can't wait to see them and help make celebrations for them.

My husband's birthday is next week, and we're going to start the celebration in a couple of days, since birthdays are really birth months around here. This year I won't wake up with him on his birthday, and I don't like that at all. I'm planning to work extra hard to make that up to him.

My mother taught me and all of my brothers and sisters that we each have our own moments, but that not all moments are our own. Any time one of us stepped out of line and tried to claim another's moment, Mom would remind us, "This is not about you."

But it sure is. Being in it, being behind it, making them feel special, giving them their moments-- that's all about me. She did a good job, my Mom.

the good stuff

I've got this friend in my town with whom I'm pretty close. She and her husband eat with Sparklestone and me (our house, their house, or out) at least 3 times a week. We spend the night at each other's houses on the weekend (even though we only live 6 miles apart). We camp together all summer, and we just started investing together. She and her spouse have a big black doggie, very much like ours. Even though we don't look alike, people get us confused, calling us by each others' names. The cool thing about that is, neither of us minds being mistaken for the other (most days, anyway). She's my business partner at our day jobs and we share an office, so I see her almost every day that we have to go to work. She's also a virgo.

Our jobs are very busy and can get stressful and we really rely on each other to get through the days and to keep each other from killing a lot people who really deserve it. We are both super achievers (see the virgo thing, above) and we work our butts off. We had gotten into a rut where we were working all the time -- even when we were supposed to be having fun and hanging out with our boys, we'd spend hours and hours bitching about the jobs.

But today was good! Sparklestone and the other husband drove out to West Virginia today to close on this condo that we're buying together and my pal and I stayed in town with our doggies. After we got the human boys on the road (the dogs are boy dogs, hence the distinction), we spent all damned day shopping. Neither of us are endurance shoppers and we usually go home after 2 stores. But today we wandered around even did some good coaching on purchases.

Her: Miss Kate, you would look great in this blouse! Just buy it. You'll be so mad at yourself if you don't buy it.

Me: You know, those shoes just aren't the right color. But these shoes are. Do you need me to ask for another size for you?

After we finally gave up and came home, we had soup and salad for dinner and then we watched this chick flick that we would have never been able to watch when the boys are home. It doesn't matter that I didn't love the movie, what matters is that I got to watch it all the way to the end and find out that I didn't love it.

Hanging out with my girl is just good fun.

But now it's midnight-thirty and I'm wishing that my man was home. If I go to sleep now, it'll seem sooner that he gets back.

A little boy I know

Last summer I got to know a little boy who looks just like his mother, my sister. Before I met him, I hadn't known anyone who look so much like he belongs to me. I don't know if it's just because he looks like me/mine that I feel so connected to him, but I do know that the only other time I've ever fallen in love at first sight is when I first laid eyes on my husband, Sparklestone himself.

The joy of my life is that when I fell for Sparkle, it all worked out right. I'm not so sure that everything is gonna turn out OK with that little'un who's related to me. It weighs on me. I want to fix it but I don't have the power to do it.

Since I kicked my mother and my sister out of my life, I'm doing much better. I don't just cry all day anymore and I don't feel like I need psychotropic drugs to deal with my life. I am a healthier person without them. But they have the little boy and I can't even talk to him without going through them.

Does every family have some monumental heartache that they have to ignore in order to move on? Is this just the human condition? Am I being a big baby?

How do I harden my heart enough to keep living and yet keep it soft enough to do the right thing?

I have a video of him dancing and singing. It's one of my most prized possessions.

I yam what I yam

I am a Virgo. All the way down to my bones, I am pure virg. I am the virgiest virgo you will ever meet. I tried for a long time to be less virgo-y, but I'm smart enough to know when I'm beat... there's no hiding it.

We virgos have incredible work ethics. We are often said to be the hardest working sign in the zodiac. People say lots of other not-so-nice things about us too, but no one can argue with the fact that we know how to work. Couple that with a relentless attention to detail, and you've got the stuff to drive people insane.

When I start something, I really hate to stop until I have finished it completely. I mean, all the way, doing it right, no shortcuts, and it's not over until the mess is all cleaned up. And then I just have to straighten this. And maybe that should go over there. And now I can see that this thing should be different. And it goes on. When I do this, my husband says that I'm in the Zone. He gets really nervous when I'm in the Zone and he usually tries to avoid me then. Sometimes that works out for him fine and other times not so good.

We have both fallen into the zone with these house projects that we've been working on. We have been killing ourselves with painting, repairing walls, replacing vanities, changing light fixtures.... The house is looking great, but we're both exhausted all the damned time and we're not having that much fun any more.

So this is it. I am using my blog as an accountability tool. I am announcing to the blogosphere that from now until the weather turns crappy (crappy means that the days are short and the trees are bare), our house just doesn't need to get any better. We're gonna hold right here.

Yes, I am a Virgo and I can't change that. But I'm smart enough to surround myself with people who aren't exactly like me so that I can be a more well-rounded person. And I can take a hint, however subtly delivered.

abiding affections

There is a decent amount of scientific literature on the bonds that humans form during the transition between late adolescence and early adulthood. Apparently we are incredibly malleable during our development between about 19-22 years of age (in Western cultures, anyway. The textbooks I've looked at aren't really concerned with a global view) and the people we bond with during those years greatly determines what we come to value as adults. I guess, among other things, that explains why military recruiters really work on those kids just about to graduate from high school.

I have a love with whom I bonded during that time in my life. She and I went through all kinds of heavens and hells together and we even inflicted some of the same on each other. We took different paths and moved to different cities when we were still in our mid-20's, but any day of the week, I can call her and there's no doubt that I'm still talking to the same person. It's common that we'll go for months without contact, but when we call each other, it's like we've never stopped talking. It's not that we know every detail about each other -- it's that we know the important stuff and all the rest falls into place. There's nothing that she can do that will surprise me -- I know her nature. And I love the luxury of having a friend who can't be surprised by me -- she's not overly impressed when I'm a superstar ("Yeah, I expect that of you.") and she's not shocked when I sink to new lows ("Yeah, you've got sleazy tendencies, so what?"). She is always with me and in some of my best moments, I hear her speaking through my mouth. I am going to Texas next month and I'm making plans to see her then -- it will be like falling into the happy, fun, safe, laughing childhood (pre-adulthood?) that she and I created together.

My husband and I spent this weekend with two of the people (who are now married to each other) that he bonded with during that same period of his life. I didn't know my husband then -- we didn't meet until we were both well out of those phases of our lives. We've spent numerous weekends with these friends of his and I've slowly been building my own friendships with each of them. However, that young adulthood bond is really impossible to crack -- those three know each other in ways that I'll never break through. That's not a bad thing -- it's what it is: just like my husband will always feel slightly on the outside when the Princess and I get together.

This weekend with these two friends was different for me than others before. It's not as though we were all transported back 10-12 years and we had the chance to make those bonds, but something definitely happened. I've already written about how slow I am to make friends -- and I'll use that as a testament to how special are these two people (now three). They have continued to give me chances and chances for years until I think we've finally hit our stride. We'll not be able to say, "We've been friends since we were in college," but (ulp, god willing) we will be there, telling each others' grandchildren, "I knew her before your daddy was even born."

That is worth waiting for.

Y'ate Whut?

We ate paint. and when we didn't have any more paint, we ate paint.

Saving medical education

68 degrees, sunny, all the flowering trees in full bloom.

I think I'll go spend the best part of my day inside a dark conference room, saving medical education.

You see, my business partner and I are really good at what we do and people know it. So when the big boss at our Prestigious Medical Center asked us to make a presentation at an international conference about something that we do that he's never even seen before, well, we couldn't say no. It's not that we couldn't say no because it's such a great opportunity, it's that he's the big boss and neither of us are so good that we can tell the boss, "No."

So today, instead of enjoying Spring, or instead of getting a lot of work done on our house, I went and saved Medical Education. You can thank me later.

By the way, it is my goal to be my own big boss and to be so good that I can say, "You know what? Sunday really isn't a good day for me. What else ya got?"

red velvet pocketbook

rowdy village people, royal value price, regular view picture, rockin' vixen punk, rare variegated petunias, racy violin player, (rvp, where are you?) raw vegetable platter, rainy valley palace, recreationally veiled player, Rita's voluptuous pout, rising venus' path

I'm in a bad loop

As you can tell by the time-stamp on this post, I'm at work as I write this. This week I have to finish an article, prepare for a class I'm teaching on Thursday, and put together a presentation for a conference on Sunday. So what the hell am I doing blogging?!

I am procrastinating. And I am making myself nutso. This is not good behavior.

And I know that the only people who are reading this blog don't have a problem with this behavior and will in fact encourage me to continue. But I am stressing myself out here! So please, friends, how about a little tough love?

I unpacked our champagne flutes this weekend

When I was growing up, my mother had a very fancy set of china and silver that she received when she and my father got married. Those dishes lived in a cabinet and I never remember eating from them even once. I am of a different mind about using nice things. My husband and I use our special dishes every Friday night and on any other special occasion that we can think of. I think that the fancy goods get more special the more we use them, not based on the rarity of their use.

I have been known to make a celebration at the drop of a hat (or a leaf or a dishtowel or whatever). When my husband and I left our comfy-but-cloying life in the American midwest to move to the exciting-but-draining life on the East Coast, a confluence of stressors conspired to make me forget that practice. That's a shame.

But I'm back! I'm remembering how important it is to make a big deal out of the little deals. If we don't do that, then months and months just pass without any recognition of all the fun, laughter, joy, accomplishments, and friendship that we live through every day.

Plus, I really like champagne.

I think I'm becoming a social creature

My enormous and amazing family was here for most of last week and I spent every minute possible with them. We all crammed ourselves into our kitchen, we all ate dinner together every nite, we went to ESPN Zone together, we did museums together, we rode in the bus together, on the train together... And when they pulled away from the city on Thursday morning, I was truly sad to see that bus leave. I LOVED having them all in our house and I enjoyed all the craziness of preparing meals for so many people. In truth, I never cooked alone -- there was always some teenaged person standing next to me, asking me if I needed his or her help. We stayed up until almost 1 a.m. every single nite, just because I didn't want to end our conversations.

So the family left on Thursday and then Thursday evening, we met our two local friends (yes, there's two of them) for dinner together, since we would be gone for the entire weekend. After dinner, we hopped in our car and drove ourselves to Brooklyn to see our two grown-up friends and one toddler friend there. I loved being with each of them every minute. When we weren't hanging out in their always hospitable house, we were walking the streets, mingling with the crowds, being a part of the world. I didn't feel misanthropic at all.

As soon as we got back to our town, we drove straight to our local friends' house for dinner. And then we had them over for dinner last nite. I just can't seem to get enough of people. I can't explain it.

I wish I understood why I'm having this sudden change of attitude. Is it because I've been hanging out with such good people that I can see more good in the world? That explanation has some holes in it -- it's not like I've been hangin' out with creepos for the past couple of years or anything. Is it because we've been working so hard at home that our house feels good to me? Is it because the days are getting longer and I'm actually getting some of those good sunshine drugs that my body needs? Whatever the reason, I wish I could bottle it and save it for those days (months on end, actually) when I want to hide from humanity, or worse.

Since I don't know where this comes from or how long it will last, you oughta just come on over and hang out with us right now. You know, get it while the gettin's good!

Aunt Miss Kate

Last nite we had 13 people here besides my husband, the dog, and me. There were adults talking and cooking and young women hanging out, comparing notes. There were kids running all over the place and a wrestling match full of stinky boys... There was hanging out on the sofas and talking and looking at photos and 5 conversations at once and lots of coffee...

It was good. I told my LM (Little Mommie) that I could really stand to do this every Saturday nite with them. This is just how they live.

One 3 year-old nephew is here and he is SERIOUSLY cute. And funny and smart. There's something about a kid saying "Aunt" in front of my name that makes me want to spoil him to pieces. It's so automatic that it makes me wonder if I'm hard-wired for that.

I had some fun being the aunt for my new niece and nephew too. To them, I'm an adult and therefore have the qualification to possess some authority. At about 10 p.m., when everyone was getting ready to watch a movie, my niece (7) asked me what is for dessert. I told her that a cookie sounds good to me, so she ran and got one for herself. About 5 minutes later, her dad came upstairs and said, "I can't believe my daughter -- she's eating another cookie, without permission." I had to confess that I was the bozo who gave her permission and I apologized because I don't know any better... I had to go find my niece and tell her I was sorry for messing up -- and then I told her that she just can't rely on me for that kind of information any more because I obviously don't know what I'm talking about.

But the good part of that story is that because she asked me, she got the cookie. I guess that's what being an aunt is all about.

My (good) Fambly is on the Way

I have an Aunt and Uncle who, for my entire life, have been my models of sane and good parents. They have cared for me the way that my birth parents should have done but unfortunately, they didn't have the authority or power to just make it official and be my legal parents. But they are the ones that I call my mom and dad.

They are really good parents and they are into parenting. They have given birth to 3 children from their own biology, but they have adopted others so that there are 7 children with the same last name. And then there are my sister and me, who they count as their own -- They call me their eldest daughter. When I was 15, I wished more than anything that they could adopt me and that I could live with them in their house with them.

It's a strange family set up. It's even stranger because my dad (not my birth father, but my real dad) is a Baptist minister. He has been either a minister or on his way to becoming one since I've known him (and he's almost always been in my life). My family is deeply and faithfully christian -- more deeply and faithfully than any other group of people that I've ever known. They represent a paradox for me -- they are all extremely intelligent, but they have the kind of faith that tells them that god is interested in every movement, every moment. Those two characteristics just don't jive for me. In fact, the idea of god being interested in what I'm doing but not doing anything to stop the bad stuff really gives me the heebeejeebees. Really.

But I love these people so much. They have loved me and protected me and they can't wait to come see me and my husband, even though they know that we don't believe that they believe. And for them, that belief is not the kind of thing that they can just agree to disagree about -- this is real-eternal-life-business to them. I don't know how they've worked it out that we are OK... I suspect that they are praying for us every day that we'll see the light and convert. I don't know though, because they don't say those things to us and we just don't discuss it. We also certainly don't discuss the fact that my husband and I marched at the March for Women's Lives or that we voted for a different president than they did. Somehow, we've implicitly decided among us that we are not going to focus on those big differences.

When we're together, I feel loved. I don't feel like I have to do anything differently except laugh and relax and enjoy the craziness. Because you know with that many people, it's really just crazy. But the good crazy, not the crazy crazy.

So with my parents and my 7 brothers and sisters from that family, that sounds like it would be 9 people. One of my sisters has 2 little boys -- and at least one of them (the 3 year old) is on his way right now. But my sister from Boston is also coming tonite and she's bringing her freshly minted fiance and her 2 soon-to-be step-children ( my soon-to-be niece and nephew!). So that brings the total to about 15 people. My husband is freakin' out.

These are my choices?

Sex and the City OR The Hunt for Red October OR the Trinity channel with the chubby people singing about the city of god... TV is bad. Now we're watching House for the first time. It's about some cranky maverick doctor and I'm pretty sure I hate it.

I work with doctors and people on their way to becoming doctors and I like most of those people. Working in health care has made me realize what a huge and growing industry is health care in the U.S. I've also learned how to spell health care.

One disturbing thing about my job is that sometimes I have to evaluate the materials that we use. Sometimes I accidentally open a book or a file that has some grody image in it.

I know people who had once been doctors who become librarians, but I don't know any doctors who started out as librarians.

Aw Geez.

Well, I did it again. I commented on my work blog while logged in as my personal self.

Sheesh.

If you got here from our work blog, be warned that the blog here is that of my personal life and not related to work at all...

Read at your own risk. You can turn back without penalty or regret now.

Working with my Man

My family is coming to stay in our house in about 2 weeks. My family -- the ones who get to stay with me -- will number about 12 when they descend upon us. They're willing to sleep anywhere and they cook for themselves and they talk to each other and to anyone around them constantly. I cannot wait until they get here! I talk more around them in about 24 hours then I normally talk in a week!

My husband is very nervous about their coming, and I don't blame him.

There's one good thing about their impending arrival for him -- we're painting and that means that we get to hang art on the walls. When we moved our stuff into the house over a year ago, he wanted to hang up our pictures immediately. I insisted that we would not hang art on the ugly, dirty, papered walls -- I insisted that we live with the bare ugly walls, lest we lose our motivation to beautify the place. So here we are -- we've now done everything that it takes to get to the point of applying paint of an actual color to the walls.

My husband and I both like color. The only white paint that will be around when we're finished here is on the ceiling and trim. We've had some fun choosing colors, but sometimes it leads to a little bit of anxiety. We are currently painting our living room a Magic Color. When we first started applying it, we were both pretty scared. It looked like some peach color that came straight from one of Don Johnson's t-shirts when he was on that Miami show (I don't think that my husband ever watched that show). But right now, the color looks even better to me than I expected it to.

Before it had morphed away from the Miami color, though, my husband and I spent a few minutes feeling each other out on what would happen if the paint didn't turn out the way we wanted it to. We each took turns being positive and negative about it, until we finally mutually agreed that we would paint the room with the paint we have and if we don't like it, we'll deal with it later. In this case, later most likely means about 24 months down the road.

I like working with this guy. Not a lotta pressure. And he is sooooo good-lookin'.

I'm Bloggin!

Yo.
When my friend redballoon posted her first blog entry, she said that the hard thing about starting something new for her is the starting. For me, the hardest part about starting something is knowing that I'll get distracted at some point and won't have time to keep it up. What can I say, I'm a busy lady.

Today my boss suggested that we start a new blog to communicate with our users and I'm now an editor on that blog. Well, darn it, you can bet that if I'm gonna have to do it for work, I'm gonna make an extra effort to keep up with my bloggin' for fun. Besides, in case you haven't heard, there's a new blog in town that I need to keep up with.

Peace.

What we got here is a brick red kitchen!

We finished painting the kitchen this weekend. Everything is painted, ceiling to trim. We even hung a new light fixture with fancy halogen spot lights (the original ugly-ass fixture from 1969 went out with last week's garbage -- sorry if you had your eye on it!). Our new kitchen is a thing of beauty and I am so excited about getting the rest of the house in shape.

When my husband and I each moved to Omaha (before he was my husband), we each had our own apartment. Within 6 months of me and the pooch arriving there, the three of us rented a house together. We looked at lots of houses before we found the one that we lived in for over 3.5 years. For me, the deal-cincher was that when we walked in the door, the floors were all hard wood and every room save one was painted a color other than white. I loved living in that house. I was so comfortable there. The house had many problems. To name a few: the basement was a hideous swampy place; the bathroom was the only room in the house with carpet in it and it was what you would imagine bathroom carpet to be; and the walls behind the shower were crumbling. In fact, the walls in every room lost about 3 ounces of plaster each time I hung a new piece of art. But the bathroom was painted a rich tan, the office was green, the living room and our bedroom a muted yellow, and the dining room was, yes, imperial red. Color on the walls allowed me to forgive a multitude of sins.

We started painting the kitchen last week. Between the crazy disarray of a kitchen in progress and my crazy out-of-control job, I was ready to sell the house and move out of the area all together. But now that we have a red kitchen, I think I can stay here for another month. We'd better get the other rooms painted quick-quick.