A few months ago my department at work moved into a new office. It was a big move for us since it was a different building from the rest of the company, and none of us were sure this move was going to be a positive thing. What can I say, we are a group of people that do not handle change well.
After being in this new building almost three months, I have to say it is really nice here. We no longer have to deal with the drama of the break room, the temperature in this building is much more comfortable, there is no excess traffic of people tromping through the big corporate conference room. It is not perfect mind you, but it is really pretty pleasant.
Now there are a few minor annoyances. Our cubes only have three walls which no one is happy about. You see when I first started working here we actually had doors on our cubes. Complete privacy. Then we moved to a different floor and had no doors and were forbidden to cover our little doorway in any way even though other departments were hanging curtains and using folding screens for privacy. Now there is not even the semblance of a fourth wall. It is uncomfortable, and no one is adjusting to that well.
Also there is only one restroom in the building. If it is being cleaned or broken we have to hike to the other building. That is more than a little inconvenient. Hopefully I will never have to trek up the hill because that would be really annoying.
My biggest complaint really has nothing to do with the building at all. My biggest complaint is my new next-cube-neighbors. You see my job is really boring and involves me scrubbing a lot of data. No one in my group talks much. We like the quiet. A lot.
Through the years people have been sat in our area as a temporary solution and they all have commented on how quiet we are. They all went out of their way to be as quiet as possible so as to not disturb us. It was very polite of them, and we always appreciated it.
For some reason when making the seating chart for this new building the powers that be decided that they should sit one of the groups that are constantly on the phone on the row next to our group. There are only 30 people in my department. There are nearly 60 cubes in this office. They easily could have sat this group of 4 over with the other group that is always on the phone. They did not have to put the loud group with us. Yet they did.
Them constantly being on the phone with consumers is annoying. They work on disputes so it is a whole lot of them trying to talk down really angry people, or trying to explain things to incredibly dense customers, either way it is a lot of talking. Add on top of that these women are all very loud and very chatty and I want to shoot someone.
They apparently have no idea what the interoffice communicator is for, think that talking to each other over the cube wall is completely acceptable, and think when they aren't on the phone with a client or shouting questions back and forth about their job, that they have to talk about something in their personal lives. I know all about these women and I couldn't tell you their names if I had to. This is ridiculous.
The worst part is I really can't say anything. I could ask them to keep it down, but their job requires them to be on the phone. I have worked in customer service over the phone, I know it is impossible to always be quiet when talking to a customer, I get that. Even if they stopped the personal conversations and learned how to IM a question to one another, I would still have to listen to them talk to customers all day long. I can't ask to move because they want us sitting with our groups, and there is no way they will move an entire group.
I really really dislike these women. They have very poor attitudes and are pretty obnoxious. They make me want to poison their desk plants* and hide rotting meat in their cubes to annoy them as much as they annoy me.
I am not going to do anything rash. I am going to sit here and silently fume about it, because that is what you do in an office. I will turn up my iPod, I will try and ignore them, and I will be as neighborly as I can...for now.
*The first two weeks we were in the office I had to listen to the woman directly on the other side of my cube wall complain loudly about her plant because someone was watering it and she thought it was dying because of that. She then would bitch about how she didn't even want the plant and someone had given it to her when they left. Then the damn thing started attracting gnats which started swarming my cube. I want to kill the thing and make everyone happy.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Friday, January 13, 2012
Give me something to talk about
I've been searching for something to write about for a few days now. I have plenty of topics that I would be happy to ramble on about, but I just can't seem to pick any one of them to work on.
Part of the problem is that there are a few that I think I have already written about. I don't really want to sound like a broken record, though I know eventually I will start repeating myself. It is like in the real world, eventually you will tell the same story to the same group of friends three or four times. I also think I have written a post about this topic before, so I will stop talking about it now.
The other problem is that I think there are too many thoughts in my head. I have trouble just pinning one down because the others are fighting really hard for attention. I could easily talk about the 15 women in my life that are about to, or just have, given birth. I could talk about the frustration behind losing things and therefor being unable to accomplish goals. I could talk about the feelings I have behind my photo a day project. I could talk about writing, I could talk about faire, I could talk about family, I could talk about the lack of work at work, I could talk about the husbeast, I could talk about me.
You see my problem?
So yea there is so much to talk about that I can't seem to talk about anything at all. Instead it would seem I am talking about nothing instead.
Anything you want me to talk about?
Part of the problem is that there are a few that I think I have already written about. I don't really want to sound like a broken record, though I know eventually I will start repeating myself. It is like in the real world, eventually you will tell the same story to the same group of friends three or four times. I also think I have written a post about this topic before, so I will stop talking about it now.
The other problem is that I think there are too many thoughts in my head. I have trouble just pinning one down because the others are fighting really hard for attention. I could easily talk about the 15 women in my life that are about to, or just have, given birth. I could talk about the frustration behind losing things and therefor being unable to accomplish goals. I could talk about the feelings I have behind my photo a day project. I could talk about writing, I could talk about faire, I could talk about family, I could talk about the lack of work at work, I could talk about the husbeast, I could talk about me.
You see my problem?
So yea there is so much to talk about that I can't seem to talk about anything at all. Instead it would seem I am talking about nothing instead.
Anything you want me to talk about?
Monday, January 9, 2012
Take a look, it's in a book
I am not sure if I have ever mentioned it here or not, but when I was young I couldn't read. I know most little kids can not read. I was in third grade I think before I really ever learned how to read.
I was really slow at learning the whole reading thing. I would do fine with most individual words but my brain could never wrap around the concept of forming individual words into sentences and paragraphs, which is what reading is all about. I especially had problems with the concept of the word 'the'. Do you realize what an important word 'the' is?
After spending most of second grade in remedial reading group I all but gave up. By the way I get the idea of making the slow readers work together so that the fast readers don't get frustrated with having to sit through kids struggling with 'See Dick run' while they have already mastered Dr Suess and left him in the dust. Let me just tell you though, as one of the slow kids, it is incredibly demeaning, frustrating, and discouraging to be pushed out into the hall because you can not read and knowing all your classmates now think you are stupid. I digress...
So with the fear that I would never read firm in my mothers mind she found me a private tutor. The woman was brilliant as far as I can remember. She was also my piano teacher, which is primarily what I remember of her, but I vaguely recall the reading tutoring as well. There was bingo and silly putty involved, but I am not sure how or why.
In the end I could read, and it was bittersweet. My brother could read since he was like 3. He was reading books that high school students struggled with when he was in 3rd grade. It was one of those things people talked about all the time. My brother was so gifted and I was not. Sort of discouraged me from doing a lot of reading once I had learned. Plus I was a very very painfully slow reader.
Eventually around the beginning of 5th grade I discovered R.L. Stein and the Fear Street series. Young adult horror fiction in general became a bit of an obsession for me. I loved it. It took me two weeks to finish a book most kids read in two days, but I didn't care. I wanted more.
My mother was thrilled. She didn't really care what kind of trash I was reading as long as I was reading voluntarily. Well no that isn't true, she still wanted me to read things that were good literature. We made a deal that for every two or three of my books I read I had to read one book of my brothers choosing. This way I was reading stuff outside of required school books and outside of trashy teen horror fiction.
My brother started me off with things like Island of the Blue Dolphin, My Side of the Mountain, Call of the Wild, and Julie of the Wolves. In school I was working on Where the Red Fern Grows, and after I completed that he decided I was ready for heavier books. He had me reading Lord of the Flies in 8th grade because he knew I would eventually have to read it for class.
Somewhere between Where the Red Fern Grows and Lord of the Flies I got hooked on reading outside my comfort zone. The first book I asked my mom to buy me that wasn't a teen horror fiction and not a recommendation of my brother was Little Women. I don't think she was ever happier to buy me a book in her life.
After that I was in love with books. I read all sorts of things; from trashy fantasy smut to biographies to everything in between. I am still an incredibly slow reader though so I don't put back many books. I have trouble finding time to read really. I can't read anything too consuming before bed or I won't sleep. So I find an hour here or there to pick up a book, but because I can only manage about 30 to 40 pages an hour, I don't typically get too far.
Right now I have a stack of books that I am meaning to read. I know there are more than 20 of them that I already own, and probably that many on my wish list still. I am not certain how long it will take me to finish them, but I do know I am not going to stop trying.
It took me a long time to get here, and I might not be the fastest horse in the race, but I will finish none the less. I will finish and I will enjoy every word that gets me there.
I was really slow at learning the whole reading thing. I would do fine with most individual words but my brain could never wrap around the concept of forming individual words into sentences and paragraphs, which is what reading is all about. I especially had problems with the concept of the word 'the'. Do you realize what an important word 'the' is?
After spending most of second grade in remedial reading group I all but gave up. By the way I get the idea of making the slow readers work together so that the fast readers don't get frustrated with having to sit through kids struggling with 'See Dick run' while they have already mastered Dr Suess and left him in the dust. Let me just tell you though, as one of the slow kids, it is incredibly demeaning, frustrating, and discouraging to be pushed out into the hall because you can not read and knowing all your classmates now think you are stupid. I digress...
So with the fear that I would never read firm in my mothers mind she found me a private tutor. The woman was brilliant as far as I can remember. She was also my piano teacher, which is primarily what I remember of her, but I vaguely recall the reading tutoring as well. There was bingo and silly putty involved, but I am not sure how or why.
In the end I could read, and it was bittersweet. My brother could read since he was like 3. He was reading books that high school students struggled with when he was in 3rd grade. It was one of those things people talked about all the time. My brother was so gifted and I was not. Sort of discouraged me from doing a lot of reading once I had learned. Plus I was a very very painfully slow reader.
Eventually around the beginning of 5th grade I discovered R.L. Stein and the Fear Street series. Young adult horror fiction in general became a bit of an obsession for me. I loved it. It took me two weeks to finish a book most kids read in two days, but I didn't care. I wanted more.
My mother was thrilled. She didn't really care what kind of trash I was reading as long as I was reading voluntarily. Well no that isn't true, she still wanted me to read things that were good literature. We made a deal that for every two or three of my books I read I had to read one book of my brothers choosing. This way I was reading stuff outside of required school books and outside of trashy teen horror fiction.
My brother started me off with things like Island of the Blue Dolphin, My Side of the Mountain, Call of the Wild, and Julie of the Wolves. In school I was working on Where the Red Fern Grows, and after I completed that he decided I was ready for heavier books. He had me reading Lord of the Flies in 8th grade because he knew I would eventually have to read it for class.
Somewhere between Where the Red Fern Grows and Lord of the Flies I got hooked on reading outside my comfort zone. The first book I asked my mom to buy me that wasn't a teen horror fiction and not a recommendation of my brother was Little Women. I don't think she was ever happier to buy me a book in her life.
After that I was in love with books. I read all sorts of things; from trashy fantasy smut to biographies to everything in between. I am still an incredibly slow reader though so I don't put back many books. I have trouble finding time to read really. I can't read anything too consuming before bed or I won't sleep. So I find an hour here or there to pick up a book, but because I can only manage about 30 to 40 pages an hour, I don't typically get too far.
Right now I have a stack of books that I am meaning to read. I know there are more than 20 of them that I already own, and probably that many on my wish list still. I am not certain how long it will take me to finish them, but I do know I am not going to stop trying.
It took me a long time to get here, and I might not be the fastest horse in the race, but I will finish none the less. I will finish and I will enjoy every word that gets me there.
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Lazy Sunday morning
It's 10am on a Sunday morning and I have yet to do anything productive. I am snuggled down on my couch in my flannel PJ pants and a hoodie in my dark mostly silent living room. The sounds of the husbeasts game and some angry grackles on my back porch are the only things disturbing the peace.
I love mornings like this. I find that a lazy Sunday is a good way to re-energize the soul. It is good for a person to just relax and not make any real effort to do anything but be.
I started my morning snuggling and giggling with the husbeast. One off my favorite things in the world is just being weird with him. I do mean weird. Silly is a given, but I can be flat out weird at times. Still we just lay in bed giggling like children and it was refreshing.
Now is the requisite time with our electronics. He will play some game where he flies things or shoots things or mines things, and I will read my blogs and check my web comics and play some Words With Friends on Facebook*.
I am sure at some point there will be noshing. Foods must be had even on a lazy Sunday. I may cook something, but more than likely we will just subside on leftovers and sandwiches. If I do cook anything it will not be because I have to but more because I want to. Baking is good for my soul too. Maybe I will bake some muffins or perhaps I will make the husbeast a pot of beans. It just depends on how my day goes.
He is going to go play Warhammer 40K with the boys, and I will probably go to the gym with my best friend at some point in the day. I am not really stressed about if I do or don't make it to the gym; there is no room for stress on a lazy Sunday. If I make it great, I would love to chat with my friend, and we always have some interesting conversations while plugging away on the elliptical. If I stay on my couch in my PJs all day then that will be great too.
I am certain at some point I will end up watching bad TV. Sunday's are made for bad movies on SyFy, or marathons of shows on HGTV or Foodnetwork or TLC. Lazy Sundays are the only time I really watch shows that are outside of my normal line up. It is really the only time I allow myself to watch horrors like Toddlers in Tiaras or Flip This House or Giant Squid vs Giant Shark. It is good for me to watch that stuff sometimes.
In the end we may go to a movie at the dollar theater tonight. In Time is showing and we both really want to see it. It all depends on when the husbeast returns from his game and whether I feel like putting on a bra at that hour or not. Again it is not a big deal if we don't go. We can always go tomorrow night instead.
No matter what happens today I am not going to stress about any of it. It is a lazy Sunday, and I plan to get as much lazy and relaxed out of the day that I possibly can. Here is hoping Sunday treats all of you just as well.
*Yes only on Facebook. I don't have a smart phone so there is no playing that game on a mobile device. Besides I am fairly certain that I would never get anything done if I could play that anywhere I was.
I love mornings like this. I find that a lazy Sunday is a good way to re-energize the soul. It is good for a person to just relax and not make any real effort to do anything but be.
I started my morning snuggling and giggling with the husbeast. One off my favorite things in the world is just being weird with him. I do mean weird. Silly is a given, but I can be flat out weird at times. Still we just lay in bed giggling like children and it was refreshing.
Now is the requisite time with our electronics. He will play some game where he flies things or shoots things or mines things, and I will read my blogs and check my web comics and play some Words With Friends on Facebook*.
I am sure at some point there will be noshing. Foods must be had even on a lazy Sunday. I may cook something, but more than likely we will just subside on leftovers and sandwiches. If I do cook anything it will not be because I have to but more because I want to. Baking is good for my soul too. Maybe I will bake some muffins or perhaps I will make the husbeast a pot of beans. It just depends on how my day goes.
He is going to go play Warhammer 40K with the boys, and I will probably go to the gym with my best friend at some point in the day. I am not really stressed about if I do or don't make it to the gym; there is no room for stress on a lazy Sunday. If I make it great, I would love to chat with my friend, and we always have some interesting conversations while plugging away on the elliptical. If I stay on my couch in my PJs all day then that will be great too.
I am certain at some point I will end up watching bad TV. Sunday's are made for bad movies on SyFy, or marathons of shows on HGTV or Foodnetwork or TLC. Lazy Sundays are the only time I really watch shows that are outside of my normal line up. It is really the only time I allow myself to watch horrors like Toddlers in Tiaras or Flip This House or Giant Squid vs Giant Shark. It is good for me to watch that stuff sometimes.
In the end we may go to a movie at the dollar theater tonight. In Time is showing and we both really want to see it. It all depends on when the husbeast returns from his game and whether I feel like putting on a bra at that hour or not. Again it is not a big deal if we don't go. We can always go tomorrow night instead.
No matter what happens today I am not going to stress about any of it. It is a lazy Sunday, and I plan to get as much lazy and relaxed out of the day that I possibly can. Here is hoping Sunday treats all of you just as well.
*Yes only on Facebook. I don't have a smart phone so there is no playing that game on a mobile device. Besides I am fairly certain that I would never get anything done if I could play that anywhere I was.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Piling higher and higher
I can always tell when I am stressed because my eyelashes fall out. I don't sit and yank them out in some sort of repetitive stress induced motion, like if I were to be pulling out my hair. No they just sort of fall out on their own. This general fact leads me to constantly check for loose eyelashes as I hate getting eyelashes in my eyes.
The holidays have ended and I find myself more stressed than I was the entire month of December. Mostly my stress stems from the husbeast being unemployed. We are currently in week 10 of no job, and while he isn't panicking yet, I sort of am.
I can't blame him for not having a new job yet as he is trying really hard. He is getting a good number of interviews but every one has been for a sales position with little to no base salary. If he was in his early 20's and didn't have a mortgage and two car payments, maybe that would cut it. Lets face it, we do have a mortgage and two car payments, and an average amount of personal debt; he needs a good base pay. Besides do you know how much they tax a commission check?
Speaking of taxes, I am beginning to stress over filing taxes and our W-2s haven't even come in yet. For the first few years of our marriage we managed to mostly not owe anything, while at the same time not getting much back. After we bought the house this changed. We went two or three years with a return of nearly $2000. I was a big fan of this.
Then three years ago when the economy tanked the husbeast was hit with his first layoff. Tax time rolled around and we owed money. Like a lot of money; nearly $1500. I was so confused we made nearly 50k less that year, and we went from a $2000 return to owing $1500? That made no sense. We do our taxes ourselves though, and no matter how many times we checked the numbers they always came out the same.
In the end we decided it had to be the crappy company he had gotten hired on with after the lay off not taking out enough taxes. He got laid off from that company as well, and we once again were looking at a new job for him. We checked to make sure we were having all the right deductions this time. We didn't want another surprise.
Surprise! We owed nearly $2000 the next year. Same story only worse. We couldn't figure it out. Nothing was changing other than we were making so much less money. We thought perhaps it was because he suddenly wasn't getting fat commission checks that were having close to 40% taken in taxes. That had to be what the problem was. A very expensive problem.
So we are still paying on that tax bill and I find myself hugely anxious about running our numbers this year. I had extra money taken out of all my checks in the vain hope that we wouldn't owe money again this year, or at least that it wouldn't be so damn much.
Then add to all that the fact that faire is going into full swing any moment now. All of the planning and preparations have started and I find myself already feeling a little overwhelmed. I am having to design and build a new costume for the husbeast since he is returning with a new character. I have no idea how we are really going to pay for that, and the new costume pieces I need, and gas to get to and from faire, and everything else that goes along with it.
Plus there is also the added stress of being one of the costumers which often makes me feel like I am herding cats when I have to deal with the performers and seamstresses. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do. I wouldn't give it up for anything. In fact faire is my little slice of sanity. It is just a lot of work and a lot of stress.
It is probably a very good thing that I have an abundance eyelashes. If I didn't I could see myself looking very strange very quickly. I am sure everything will right itself soon, and everything will be fine. I just hope it happens before I have to start thinking about investing in false lashes.
The holidays have ended and I find myself more stressed than I was the entire month of December. Mostly my stress stems from the husbeast being unemployed. We are currently in week 10 of no job, and while he isn't panicking yet, I sort of am.
I can't blame him for not having a new job yet as he is trying really hard. He is getting a good number of interviews but every one has been for a sales position with little to no base salary. If he was in his early 20's and didn't have a mortgage and two car payments, maybe that would cut it. Lets face it, we do have a mortgage and two car payments, and an average amount of personal debt; he needs a good base pay. Besides do you know how much they tax a commission check?
Speaking of taxes, I am beginning to stress over filing taxes and our W-2s haven't even come in yet. For the first few years of our marriage we managed to mostly not owe anything, while at the same time not getting much back. After we bought the house this changed. We went two or three years with a return of nearly $2000. I was a big fan of this.
Then three years ago when the economy tanked the husbeast was hit with his first layoff. Tax time rolled around and we owed money. Like a lot of money; nearly $1500. I was so confused we made nearly 50k less that year, and we went from a $2000 return to owing $1500? That made no sense. We do our taxes ourselves though, and no matter how many times we checked the numbers they always came out the same.
In the end we decided it had to be the crappy company he had gotten hired on with after the lay off not taking out enough taxes. He got laid off from that company as well, and we once again were looking at a new job for him. We checked to make sure we were having all the right deductions this time. We didn't want another surprise.
Surprise! We owed nearly $2000 the next year. Same story only worse. We couldn't figure it out. Nothing was changing other than we were making so much less money. We thought perhaps it was because he suddenly wasn't getting fat commission checks that were having close to 40% taken in taxes. That had to be what the problem was. A very expensive problem.
So we are still paying on that tax bill and I find myself hugely anxious about running our numbers this year. I had extra money taken out of all my checks in the vain hope that we wouldn't owe money again this year, or at least that it wouldn't be so damn much.
Then add to all that the fact that faire is going into full swing any moment now. All of the planning and preparations have started and I find myself already feeling a little overwhelmed. I am having to design and build a new costume for the husbeast since he is returning with a new character. I have no idea how we are really going to pay for that, and the new costume pieces I need, and gas to get to and from faire, and everything else that goes along with it.
Plus there is also the added stress of being one of the costumers which often makes me feel like I am herding cats when I have to deal with the performers and seamstresses. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do. I wouldn't give it up for anything. In fact faire is my little slice of sanity. It is just a lot of work and a lot of stress.
It is probably a very good thing that I have an abundance eyelashes. If I didn't I could see myself looking very strange very quickly. I am sure everything will right itself soon, and everything will be fine. I just hope it happens before I have to start thinking about investing in false lashes.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Dramatic cut
When I was born I was pretty much bald. I had more than that soft peach fuzz but not enough to really be called a full head of hair. This mostly didn't change until I was like 3.
There is a picture of me on my first Halloween and I barely had enough hair to tie the little pompoms for my clown costume into my hair. There were lots of velcro bows in my world as a baby. My nanny used to dress me in the frilliest laciest pink dresses and sew pink ribbons to all my overalls and jeans so that people would stop calling me a little boy.
I am not sure when my hair started to grow. In photographs I go from about 4 with shaggy short curls, to about 5 with waist length hair. I guess it just sort of grew overnight like boobs do*. I guess after being mostly bald for so long my mother wanted to keep me with long girl like hair, so for most of my childhood I had hair well past my waist.
I have since then had 5 dramatic, or traumatic, hair cuts. If you have ever had a cut that is considered dramatic or traumatic you would remember them too.
The first was when I was in the 4th grade. We were having a pool put in and I was a huge fan of swimming. The only thing was I had this massive mane of hair. It was really long, really thick, and really hard to take care of. Normally my mom brushed it out and blew it dry every night after my bath. She declared that there was no way that she was going to take care of my hair if I was swimming all the time. I was going to have to do it myself.
So I told them to cut it all off. I really think my mom and my hairdresser were more upset about this than I was. I went in and they lobbed off about two feet of hair and I came out with an adorable chin length bob. It was super easy to take care of and super cute on me. I never missed the long hair.
That was the last hair cut I got until I was a freshman in high school. I never really cared all that much for keeping up with my hair, its one of those girly things I don't do. At this point my hair had turned into a long frizzy mess. I wore it back in a ponytail every day because I couldn't be bothered to do anything with it.
I was visiting my grandmother when the second cut happened and while the first was dramatic this one was traumatic. I wanted my hair to be shoulder length. It was easier to take care of at that length but I could still get it into a ponytail. Apparently the stylist and I had different ideas of what constitutes shoulder length. I thought my hair should touch my shoulders at the lowest point, he thought it should touch at the highest point where my neck ends. I have a really short neck so my hair was basically chin length again and entirely too short to put in a ponytail. I cried.
Really it was an adorable haircut after it grew out a little. It was just at that awkward inbetween length that never looks right. Plus I was really lazy and keeping it looking cute and tame was not my thing. That haircut was the reason I was a freshman in college before I cut my hair again.
By the time I hit college I had realized a lot about my hair. It was curly so I couldn't brush it when it was dry. I learned the power of product in my hair. I also learned that leaving it down was very attractive. Waist length curls are a lot to deal with, but really cute and I loved it.
I was in school for theater though, so when my director asked me to chop my hair back to just above my shoulders I happily obliged. I knew I looked good with that length hair, and I knew my hair would grow back. No one else had this confidence. I literally couldn't get anyone to take me up to the place to get my hair cut. In the end I bribed a boy who liked me to take me. Again this cut was dramatic but it was only traumatic for everyone else. The stylist didn't even want to cut it. I felt very much like Jo March in Little Women at that moment.
When I finally made the big reveal, which was opening night on stage, everyone adored it. It is amazing how little faith people can have in you sometimes. I know my hair, trust me to do what is right for it.
I had a few minor cuts between that college cut and my next traumatic cut. This cut was the definition of traumatic. I am not talking bad stylist cut, I am talking catastrophic hair failure. My hair was again around waist length. I had straightened it for some unknown reason which is the only reason I knew precisely how long it was. I had started to refinish some antique side tables we have and was out on the back porch using the dremel for some detail sanding. My hair was pulled back as it should be when working with power tools.
Then the wind picked up. We get killer wind on our back deck, and on that day it was my downfall. Apparently my hair tie wasn't tight enough because a chunk of what would be my bangs, if I had bangs, came loose and blew right into the spinning dremel.
In less than a second the tool caught my hair and wound it up to my scalp. I panicked. The husbeast was much smarter and calmer than I was. I was trying to pull back on the dremel, he simply unplugged it so it would stop turning.
We ended up having to cut the dremel out of my hair leaving my with a one inch long nub of bangs. I was horrified. I was terrified. I couldn't cut all of my hair to one inch, that would look awful. I was envisioning having to have full out one inch bangs. I called my best friend in a panic and she quickly came to take me to the salon.
It took a while to find someplace that was open, and I went in with tears in my eyes and practically hyperventilating. The girl sat me down and quickly took most of the length off of my hair. She left it about shoulder length which I was good with. She quickly put in a few shorter layers around the front to help hide the fact that there was something wrong.
Then came the big question; what do we do with the nub. I told her I didn't want bangs. I don't have the right face shape for bangs and she completely agreed. Then in a moment of brilliance, or perhaps common sense, she told me to stop parting my hair in the center and instead part it on the side which would cover up the nub.
I felt a little dumb for not thinking about that myself. In the end the haircut was cute and the nub ended up being cute too. I had lots of fun clips to keep it out of my eyes after it started growing. I still don't suggest putting your hair anywhere near a power tool. I now wear bandannas to completely cover my hair when I work with the dremel.
The last dramatic cut I got was on my last birthday. I was turning 30 and I decided that I needed a change. Other than when I was 14 I had not had my hair above shoulder length. That is 16 years with mostly long hair. I wanted something no one was used to, even me. So I went in and told the woman I wanted short hair. It couldn't be shorter than my chine because the husbeast wanted some length, but I didn't want it to be anywhere near long or mid length. When she did the first cut I looked at it and said 'shorter'. She just grinned and obliged.
In the end the look was incredibly different and I loved it. Since then my hair has grown out to shoulder length again and honestly it is driving me crazy. I really need to go get it cut again but I for some reason think it will be my birthday again before I manage to do that.
The question is can I wait almost 6 months to get it cut?
*Seriously I have never known a single woman who didn't just sort of wake up one day and they had boobs. It wasn't subtle or anything. They just happened. How awkward is that?
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| See? No hair. |
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| Baby curls. So cute. |
I have since then had 5 dramatic, or traumatic, hair cuts. If you have ever had a cut that is considered dramatic or traumatic you would remember them too.
The first was when I was in the 4th grade. We were having a pool put in and I was a huge fan of swimming. The only thing was I had this massive mane of hair. It was really long, really thick, and really hard to take care of. Normally my mom brushed it out and blew it dry every night after my bath. She declared that there was no way that she was going to take care of my hair if I was swimming all the time. I was going to have to do it myself.
So I told them to cut it all off. I really think my mom and my hairdresser were more upset about this than I was. I went in and they lobbed off about two feet of hair and I came out with an adorable chin length bob. It was super easy to take care of and super cute on me. I never missed the long hair.
That was the last hair cut I got until I was a freshman in high school. I never really cared all that much for keeping up with my hair, its one of those girly things I don't do. At this point my hair had turned into a long frizzy mess. I wore it back in a ponytail every day because I couldn't be bothered to do anything with it.
I was visiting my grandmother when the second cut happened and while the first was dramatic this one was traumatic. I wanted my hair to be shoulder length. It was easier to take care of at that length but I could still get it into a ponytail. Apparently the stylist and I had different ideas of what constitutes shoulder length. I thought my hair should touch my shoulders at the lowest point, he thought it should touch at the highest point where my neck ends. I have a really short neck so my hair was basically chin length again and entirely too short to put in a ponytail. I cried.
Really it was an adorable haircut after it grew out a little. It was just at that awkward inbetween length that never looks right. Plus I was really lazy and keeping it looking cute and tame was not my thing. That haircut was the reason I was a freshman in college before I cut my hair again.
By the time I hit college I had realized a lot about my hair. It was curly so I couldn't brush it when it was dry. I learned the power of product in my hair. I also learned that leaving it down was very attractive. Waist length curls are a lot to deal with, but really cute and I loved it.
I was in school for theater though, so when my director asked me to chop my hair back to just above my shoulders I happily obliged. I knew I looked good with that length hair, and I knew my hair would grow back. No one else had this confidence. I literally couldn't get anyone to take me up to the place to get my hair cut. In the end I bribed a boy who liked me to take me. Again this cut was dramatic but it was only traumatic for everyone else. The stylist didn't even want to cut it. I felt very much like Jo March in Little Women at that moment.
When I finally made the big reveal, which was opening night on stage, everyone adored it. It is amazing how little faith people can have in you sometimes. I know my hair, trust me to do what is right for it.
I had a few minor cuts between that college cut and my next traumatic cut. This cut was the definition of traumatic. I am not talking bad stylist cut, I am talking catastrophic hair failure. My hair was again around waist length. I had straightened it for some unknown reason which is the only reason I knew precisely how long it was. I had started to refinish some antique side tables we have and was out on the back porch using the dremel for some detail sanding. My hair was pulled back as it should be when working with power tools.
Then the wind picked up. We get killer wind on our back deck, and on that day it was my downfall. Apparently my hair tie wasn't tight enough because a chunk of what would be my bangs, if I had bangs, came loose and blew right into the spinning dremel.
In less than a second the tool caught my hair and wound it up to my scalp. I panicked. The husbeast was much smarter and calmer than I was. I was trying to pull back on the dremel, he simply unplugged it so it would stop turning.
We ended up having to cut the dremel out of my hair leaving my with a one inch long nub of bangs. I was horrified. I was terrified. I couldn't cut all of my hair to one inch, that would look awful. I was envisioning having to have full out one inch bangs. I called my best friend in a panic and she quickly came to take me to the salon.
It took a while to find someplace that was open, and I went in with tears in my eyes and practically hyperventilating. The girl sat me down and quickly took most of the length off of my hair. She left it about shoulder length which I was good with. She quickly put in a few shorter layers around the front to help hide the fact that there was something wrong.
Then came the big question; what do we do with the nub. I told her I didn't want bangs. I don't have the right face shape for bangs and she completely agreed. Then in a moment of brilliance, or perhaps common sense, she told me to stop parting my hair in the center and instead part it on the side which would cover up the nub.
I felt a little dumb for not thinking about that myself. In the end the haircut was cute and the nub ended up being cute too. I had lots of fun clips to keep it out of my eyes after it started growing. I still don't suggest putting your hair anywhere near a power tool. I now wear bandannas to completely cover my hair when I work with the dremel.
The last dramatic cut I got was on my last birthday. I was turning 30 and I decided that I needed a change. Other than when I was 14 I had not had my hair above shoulder length. That is 16 years with mostly long hair. I wanted something no one was used to, even me. So I went in and told the woman I wanted short hair. It couldn't be shorter than my chine because the husbeast wanted some length, but I didn't want it to be anywhere near long or mid length. When she did the first cut I looked at it and said 'shorter'. She just grinned and obliged.
The question is can I wait almost 6 months to get it cut?
*Seriously I have never known a single woman who didn't just sort of wake up one day and they had boobs. It wasn't subtle or anything. They just happened. How awkward is that?
Monday, January 2, 2012
Another one down
New Year came and went, and the holidays are once again over. Well actually I do have cocktail and mocktail party to go to on Friday for Twelfth Night, but it is close enough to call it an end. For most everyone the conventional holiday season is over so that is good enough for me.
New Years Eve was spent at a small gathering with some friends that happened sort of last minute. We had planned to go have dinner with another couple and just veg all night, but the night before we got an invite to another gathering that was much closer to home. The plan had been to go to the last minute gathering first to say hello and then drive out to East Jesus* for dinner with our other friends.
When we got to the gathering we made a decision that it would be better if we could convince the others to come to where we were. It was more festive, and honestly it was cheaper for us. We were out of gas and money is super tight at the moment, so the less driving the better. We totally were going to make the drive should they not want to come because we said we would, but we were really hoping they would come to us instead. Thankfully they did.
The night was very pleasant. It was really laid back for the most part. Lots of talking and laughing and a couple of very fun games of Apples to Apples. The best part was I got to see some friends I really never get to see and I got to ring in the New Year with people I loved.
New Years Day had a much earlier start than I would have liked. Every January 1st we got to the Fort Worth Zoo for the annual Zoo Tour. It is a tradition our friend Dan started because the Zoo is better than losing a finger. Yes you read that right. No I do not think I am going to explain just now.
Sadly Zoo tour is in Fort Worth which might as well be Canada most days, especially when you were up until 3am. To get the whole tour in we typically start around 11am. This required us to get up at 9am which really felt like it was a lot earlier than it was. In the end it was well worth the lack of sleep to go. Fun stories, good friends, beautiful weather, and lemurs bouncing off the walls; what more could you ask for?
This morning was back to work for me, which I was not excited about at all. I pondered long and hard about taking a day off. I could sleep in, do the laundry, take down the decorations, clean my filthy house, and do some much needed grocery shopping. I finally decided that chores was not a good excuse for burning a day of PTO. I have to save them for more important things.
I dutifully got up and drove to the office, possibly about half an hour later than I should have been. As I pulled up to the office complex I realized that something was wrong. The parking lot was empty. We are not talking the type of empty when half the company took the day off, we are talking about the entire company took the day off empty.
I was more than a little confused. I called a friend who I work with and she answered the phone half asleep which told me that I was indeed the only person who had no idea that today was a holiday for us.
Typically they send out an email letting us know that the new holiday schedule is out. This year we got no such email. Instead they just put it up on Sharepoint assuming we all looked at Sharepoint every day. Turns out I try to never look at Sharepoint if I don't have to. If you have ever used Sharepoint you know why.
So I turned my car around and headed home with a quick stop at the grocery store. Now I get to spend the day as I wanted to; cleaning my house. It will be an incredibly productive and satisfying day without the guilt of using a day of my PTO.
I think this is a good sign that the new year will be wonderful.
* I tend to describe anyplace that is far as being in East Jesus or Canada or Mexico or Egypt. It really just depends on what comes out of my mouth at the moment. In this case it refers to Arlington which is about an hour-ish from where we were.
New Years Eve was spent at a small gathering with some friends that happened sort of last minute. We had planned to go have dinner with another couple and just veg all night, but the night before we got an invite to another gathering that was much closer to home. The plan had been to go to the last minute gathering first to say hello and then drive out to East Jesus* for dinner with our other friends.
When we got to the gathering we made a decision that it would be better if we could convince the others to come to where we were. It was more festive, and honestly it was cheaper for us. We were out of gas and money is super tight at the moment, so the less driving the better. We totally were going to make the drive should they not want to come because we said we would, but we were really hoping they would come to us instead. Thankfully they did.
The night was very pleasant. It was really laid back for the most part. Lots of talking and laughing and a couple of very fun games of Apples to Apples. The best part was I got to see some friends I really never get to see and I got to ring in the New Year with people I loved.
New Years Day had a much earlier start than I would have liked. Every January 1st we got to the Fort Worth Zoo for the annual Zoo Tour. It is a tradition our friend Dan started because the Zoo is better than losing a finger. Yes you read that right. No I do not think I am going to explain just now.
Sadly Zoo tour is in Fort Worth which might as well be Canada most days, especially when you were up until 3am. To get the whole tour in we typically start around 11am. This required us to get up at 9am which really felt like it was a lot earlier than it was. In the end it was well worth the lack of sleep to go. Fun stories, good friends, beautiful weather, and lemurs bouncing off the walls; what more could you ask for?
This morning was back to work for me, which I was not excited about at all. I pondered long and hard about taking a day off. I could sleep in, do the laundry, take down the decorations, clean my filthy house, and do some much needed grocery shopping. I finally decided that chores was not a good excuse for burning a day of PTO. I have to save them for more important things.
I dutifully got up and drove to the office, possibly about half an hour later than I should have been. As I pulled up to the office complex I realized that something was wrong. The parking lot was empty. We are not talking the type of empty when half the company took the day off, we are talking about the entire company took the day off empty.
I was more than a little confused. I called a friend who I work with and she answered the phone half asleep which told me that I was indeed the only person who had no idea that today was a holiday for us.
Typically they send out an email letting us know that the new holiday schedule is out. This year we got no such email. Instead they just put it up on Sharepoint assuming we all looked at Sharepoint every day. Turns out I try to never look at Sharepoint if I don't have to. If you have ever used Sharepoint you know why.
So I turned my car around and headed home with a quick stop at the grocery store. Now I get to spend the day as I wanted to; cleaning my house. It will be an incredibly productive and satisfying day without the guilt of using a day of my PTO.
I think this is a good sign that the new year will be wonderful.
* I tend to describe anyplace that is far as being in East Jesus or Canada or Mexico or Egypt. It really just depends on what comes out of my mouth at the moment. In this case it refers to Arlington which is about an hour-ish from where we were.
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