I got home and looked at the full picture of the cards, and I didn't spell it "Raph," I spelled it "Raplh." Even better. Much more exotic, don't you think?
Those who count Karma points will be happy to read this.
I have just mailed a stack of cute little ATC's that I created for the Post Event swap on the Scrap, Etc. message board, and after I walked back to my office from the post office, I decided to look at the "peek" photo I posted of the cards on flickr. (You know...all proud of myself...) So as I am admiring my talent, I realize that I have misspelled "Ralph."
(Insert loud SCREAMING of profanity here.)
There's a Ralph Waldo Emerson quote on the back of the cards, and I spelled it as "Raph." Nice. I'm sure I deserve that. I can't do anything about it now, I guess. I could go back to the post office and beg them to give back my envelope addressed to Lisa. Guess not. They already think I'm a little nutty since I'm forever in there with decorated envelopes for them to weigh and measure and mail to Las Vegas...
So...for those of you getting the cards, please take out your black Sharpie and insert a tiny little "l" in there for me. And tell everyone who sees those cards that I really am an intelligent girl. An intelligent girl who cannot type.
I promise you that I will be worried about this for the rest of my life. And I do realize (for about the 900th time) that Gran Gran was right when she said, "What goes around, comes around."
Can I also point out that PJ looked at these cards SEVERAL times and never once caught it? HELLO? I thought you had my back. Damn. And you, too, Noele. I showed them to you this morning.
OK - I'm going to crawl under my desk now. Oh wait, I was just in a meeting where someone who shall remain anonymous said, "This don't have to be lots of work for nobody." At least I didn't write that on the back of my cards!
I'm out of sorts...sort of. A friend died earlier in the week. It was unexpected and shocking. And it's been a strange few days. It's odd how the days surrounding the death of a friend or loved one seem to take on so much more meaning. I've noticed every little thing today...and I keep catching myself trying to conjure up the faces of friends in my mind. I panicked this afternoon because I suddenly couldn't remember what PJ was wearing when I saw him at lunch.
Phill (yes, with two l's) was a really good person. Seriously good. Gooder than I'll ever be, that's for sure.
And Gina Billy, if you are reading this, well, first of all, I want you to kiss my ass. Then...well, that's all. Just kiss my ass.
I'll be back in a few...I don't have much I want to say right now.
Recently a few (well meaning, I’m sure) friends (and one sister) have commented on the fact that I tend to complain a helluva lot about my job. So for several days I’ve been trying to figure out how to explain this…as if anyone cares.
See, the thing is, I care.
And I want my friends (and my sister) to know why I complain a helluva lot about my job because I want them to know me and understand me...and feel my pain, I guess.
There are many things about my job that I love. Many things. I really enjoy college kids and I get to work closely with a boatload of them on any given day. I dig a college campus, and you would be hard pressed to find a more beautiful one than this one. I’m surrounded by smart people…and books…and a wickedly fun SEC football empire. What’s not to love about that?
I get off on seeing new stuff before anyone else gets to see it, so the buying aspect of my job is quite satisfying. The marketing, ad design and whole creative part of my job is right up my alley, too. And it’s just retail in so many ways…and we all know I know retail. In a sick kind of way I really like retail.
But as is the case with any work environment, there are some negatives. And there are some things (OK, many things) I would change about my job if I could. And I have changed a lot of things since I’ve been here. It has actually gotten better. But the things (people) I cannot change are the things (people) that make me crazy. I often wonder if I will ever find somewhere to thrive. It seems I take it all too seriously. And the ones who get by without taking it seriously; sometimes even get way ahead without taking it seriously; really piss me off. To the point that I Just. Can’t. Deal. And I'm talking seriously can't deal with it. Not a little irritated, but major close to incapacitated.
And I must confess, this is the way things have been for me for years – starting with my very first job at Baskin-Robbins working for that idiot manager who came in hung over every morning, chain smoking Winston-Salems, and talking on the phone all day.
So my therapist has been telling me for years that I should view my job as a means to an end. You know - the thing that makes the money so that I can afford to do the thing that matters. But I’ve never been able to see it that way. Work matters to me. Probably too much. And I get really angry when it doesn’t matter to everyone else at the party. And angry leads to miserable. Ahh…There’s the rub.
Obviously, writing about my adventures at work is therapeutic. And funny. And probably a tad dangerous. That’s why it’s discussed so often here. Lately I’ve been trying to wrap my mind around the idea that I might never find satisfying work. That makes me sad and worried and frustrated all at the same time. I’ve decided I need to find some other things (ventures, hobbies, etc) to focus my energy on. This is a huge step for me, but it’s a beginning. I just wish I had realized some of this before I wagered the farm on grad school. A line dancing class would have been the wiser choice, I think.
I did a little scrapbooking this weekend, and thought I would share the layouts here. These are also posted in my flickr photostream. I made these with page kits I got at Scrap, Etc. but I added some of my own stash and changed a couple of them up a tiny bit. The kits are really giving me a jumping off point lately. Sometimes we all need a little push (or shove, as the case may be).
First up, a layout about my niece, Kendall (AKA Sister Girl). We had fun hanging with her Saturday.
Next up is a layout about our 4th of July tradition. These photos are actually from 2007.
And lastly, a layout about our first night at the beach this year.
I'm working on the New Moon cards now (in my head). They're due this week. (Nothing like the last minute.)
I also finished up some ATC's for a different swap on the Scrap, Etc. message board. I will post a peek of those soon. Stay tuned.
So it was a productive weekend except that I did zero housekeeping, zero laundry, and zero anything else I really should have done besides having crafty fun.
Wow...everyone we saw this weekend wanted to talk about Clover and her new haircut. She's such a popular pants! Her Aunt Marianne says I needs to post a better picture of her, so Bobbie Jo took a few thousand while the dogs were at her house, and I have chosen a couple for you to see.
Don't feel sorry for that dog. I have people tell me all the time they want to die and come back as one of my dogs. She is fine. And besides, without all of that hair to weigh her down she can run faster, jump higher, and torture Cowboy all the more. See? Cowboy is the one you should feel sorry for.
It's funny to me that he looks like a little roly poly now and he weighs a full two pounds less than Clover.
What did I do before I had dogs? Better yet, what did Bobbie Jo photograph before I had dogs?
I'm gonna take a risk here. I'm gonna share some information that may not make the best blog content. But I've had a few emails and requests for an update so I thought I would fill everyone in at the same time. Forgive me in advance for sounding like Madge describing her sciatica at the Betty's Beauty Box.
I went to the orthopedist this morning to get results from the MRI I had Tuesday. Doogie says that the damage to my left shoulder is not that bad…no torn tissue, but several bone spurs and some tendinitis. He said that arthroscopic surgery would probably help, but he’s not ready to do that just yet for a couple of reasons – not the least of which is my typical really bad reaction to anesthesia. He says he’s surprised that the relief I got from the cortisone injection in June didn’t last longer than it did and he isn’t ready to give up on that treatment.
Umm…yeah. I’m a little surprised, too. Can I just say that something that hurts that bad really should be a little more effective? (?!?!?!) In other words, I’m thinking the injection is not a good overall value.
I can have another injection in late August (apparently these can only be given every 3 months) so we will see. I’m willing to give it another whirl to avoid surgery and all that goes with that for now. If the next injection proves as worthless as the first, then he will talk to me about surgery. He will have to catch me first.
Another issue is the fact that there are medications that would probably help alleviate the pain I'm experiencing, but I can’t take them because I’ve had gastric bypass. I’m pretty limited as to what I can take in the pain relief department. Darvocet really isn’t helping…it’s just making me more emotional and weepy. (Yeah, sucks to be PJ.) Skelaxin doesn’t help at all...just makes me feel like a noodle. (A noodle in pain.)
So, there you have it. NOTHING. Once again I have no solution. I was basically told to deal with it for now. And it hurts like a MUTTHA.
We're headed to the big city again tonight. Two weekends in a row! Aren't we somethin'? I wish I had time for a combat nap before we have to be at our haughty dinner party...but I'll probably use the hour long drive to bitch about my day. And my shoulder, of course.
Thanks for enduring the whiny recap. Don't worry - I will pep things up next time. Maybe I will write about the weather!
Clover's hair. Not mine. (I've given up on mine. Don't look at mine.) Anyway, Clover is getting her hair cut off as I type this. I don't why I'm so emotional about it...it has to be done. I have to maintain a career, so I don't have time to care for the hair of a Lhasa Apso who thinks she is a Labrador Retriever. And maybe I'm emotional about it because I'm emotional about everything right now. It's just sad to see her move from "glamorous fluffy girly dog" to "sporty sassy tomboy dog." But that's what she is at heart, so this is how we have to deal with it. (BTW, Bobbie Jo made her that way.)
Sigh. Did I tell you I chose her out of the litter because of her HAIR? That hair! It's so silky and soft and sweet.
It also doubles as flea condos with a view, and it collects everything but men and money. So it has to go.
Maybe I will post pics of the result...if I can make myself look at her.
By the way, QueenVanna thinks this photo looks like a promo shot for our new talk show. Stay tuned for that. We have lots to discuss. Starting with "Why your mama wants you to stay out of the mud." Also planning on an episode Clover wants to call, "No, no. Don't eat that! DO. NOT. EAT. THAT."
And I'm supposed to work in something about a "digital clock" somewhere in this post as a code to let a friend know I'm thinking of her. And I just can't find a way to work that in. So, let me just say, SHELLEY! Of course, I am thinking of you. I can't get you off my mind...praying for you, Buckett, Jackson, all of you. I'm sending good thoughts your way with or without the digital clock. You are an amazing woman. I am praying for you to have strength today and to just soak in all that love that will be surrounding you.
OK, off to round up Cowboy. He's bouncing around the house freely now that Clover isn't here to tell on him. No telling how many rolls of toilet paper he has unwound by now.