rooted, but still growing

Archive for September 2007

… as one of the worst weeks ever. I simply cannot adequately express the agony and frustration of this week, which began turning sour Monday and steadily worsened until it culminated in me having to stay at work until 9 p.m. On a FRIDAY, for God’s sake.  Work has been, well, tough, this week, plus I’m sick and my freaking skin has decided it too wants to wreak some havoc. I’ve been confused, angry, bitchy, unfair and tired and let me tell you, none of that looks pretty on me. I got so angry at a client today that I snapped the end off the felt-tipped pen I was writing with and threw it onto the floor. (Luckily, said client was on the opposite end of the phone, not my desk.) Talk about a hissy.

I’m home now, and feeling better. I’m already dreading Monday, but at least I can look forward to only working four days next weekend. I’m taking a vacation day Friday, and I’m hoping to also get away with taking a half-day on Thursday. I don’t get paid for overtime work, and I’ve already put in 7.5 extra hours this week. I think letting me disappear an afternoon early is fair, how ’bout you?

Man, I wish I could come up with something interesting to post, but my creative juices have dried up. Eww. That sounds kinda gross.


Yes, I’m still here. Had some interruptions these past few days with our Internet service. It turns out the fault lay not with our ISP, but the maintenance guys here in our lovely little gated community who managed to obliterate our outdoor cable wires with their weedwhackers. A technician came today and fixed everything, so we’re all hunky-dorey and can resume connecting with the world via our fingertips. Steve was so happy that it got fixed I think he would have tongue-kissed the dude if he hadn’t looked like Larry the Cable Guy.

 >> OMG. Steve just said “I love fruit … from my mouth down to my poop chute.” WTF? <<

Anyway. I had a fantastic weekend. We went shopping Saturday, and I scored some really great sweaters at even better prices. I don’t think I can adequately explain my love of sweaters … and all things related to cold-weather clothing. Hats, scarves, boots, jeans and sweaters … ohh, I’m getting warm and cozy just thinking about it. I was very pleased with my purchases and even wore one of my new sweaters to work today, despite the near-90 degree weather. This girl, apparently, will suffer for fashion. Whateva!

What I was not pleased about was the fact that the sales clerk at Macy’s neglected to remove the security tag from one item. Now, I have to drive over an hour back to the store to have them take it off. Grr. They offered to pay for the gas … which is okay. I guess. (Insert pout and foot stomp here.)

After shopping, we popped the top off the Jeep and took the scenic route home. It was a beautiful evening. But the BEST part about Saturday was what that sneaky snakey Steve did for me. I spotted a gorgeous green Franklin Covey bag at one of the stores and immediately fell in love. It had compartments for a laptop, documents, cell phone and pens, a change purse, and numerous little zippered hideaways for other essentials. It would have been the *perfect* thing for work. One look at the price tag, however, quickly dampened my spirits and I put it back on the shelf. Steve offered to buy it, but I couldn’t see the sense in spending that much money on something I hadn’t intended to even look for, much less buy, that day. I told him that maybe he could get me one for Christmas, and we walked away, paid for our few little items and moved on to the next store. When we got there, Steve said he needed to use the restroom and that he’d meet up with me later (I thought it was just an excuse to get out of the bra/panties section). A little while later he found me and we continued shopping. It wasn’t until we were halfway home that he told me he had gotten me a surprise and that it was behind his seat. Yup, it was the bag! It was such a nice thing to do … it made me feel bad for all the times I’ve been snarky to him lately. He does this kind of thing every once in awhile … just surprises me with sweet little gestures. Makes me feel kinda lucky, you know?

Sunday was a mini “me” day … Steve went golfing with some buddies, so I got up early, treated myself to a fatty McDonald’s breakfast and hit the local craft store then the grocery store. When I got home I started a pot of homemade vegetable soup (which was delicious, by the way), then spent the rest of the afternoon just hanging out with Steve.

It was such a simple weekend, but it really was bliss. I take such pleasure in the little things in life … sweaters, soup and Steve. It’s my hat trick.

Sorry for the interruption in posting. Our Internet has been spotty since Tuesday … resulting in late assignments and a very iresome boyfriend. I’m thankful the computer hasn’t been shoved through the wall in anger … and for once, it’s not mine! We’re working on getting everything back to normal working order. Stay tuned!

So. I have to attend a seminar tomorrow for work. The trouble here? Myself and the other three sales reps required to attend were just informed of this excursion yesterday. Our choices are to either leave tonight and stay in a hotel, or get up at 3:30 a.m. tomorrow and drive over with our managers. Nevermind that I have homework. Nevermind that two of the others have children. It’s just drop everything and go. GRR. I haven’t packed. I haven’t looked at the homework that’s due Wednesday. I’m not ready! I don’t mind attending these seminars because I really do hope to get something out of them, but this is ridiculous. Give a girl some advanced notice, wouldja?


Dear Sicko,

I write to express my dismay and disgust at your lack of aim, sense, human decency or whatever it is that prohibits you from properly flushing obviously used toilet paper following the use of our restroom facilities. 

You may not realize this, but stall number three is not your home bathroom, and you are not the only person who uses it. If it were possible for a human body to hold urine in a fist-sized bladder all the live-long day without feeling moderate to severe discomfort or, worse, causing a serious medical emergency, then by golly we’d all do it because, seriously, who really WANTS to share toilets with strangers?

It being that communal ass crowns are merely a part of life these days, it would be nice if you could find a way to clean up after yourself. Properly. You see, I take a pill that makes me pee. A lot. And I tend to drink water throughout the day. A lot of water. I’m sure you can understand my delicate situation. Or not, because it appears that you’re not only gross, but stupid as well.

I trust that you will take this information into extensive consideration and make the appropriate adjustments. As in, quit using the bathroom at work. Or else.



P.S: If you’re the gal who reads the newspaper while doing her business, you might also consider picking said newspaper up off the floor when you’re done. Thank you.

I was stunned to learn that we’re already in the middle of September. Already! Time goes by far too quickly.

I’m not complaining that it’s nearly autumn, though. It’s my favorite season. Go figure: I’m at my happiest when everything around me is dying and preparing for a four-to-five-month period of cold darkness. That’s how I roll, folks. That’s how I roll. Every day is opposite day in my world!

I can’t specifically pinpoint the reason behind my love for fall; rather, I think it’s a combination of my inclination to crisp scents, warm colors, fun, food, family and friends. Autumn is jumping in leaves, chicken pot pie, football, sweaters, cool air, chili, the Forest Festival … it’s pure and simple comfort.

I’m so excited about fall that this year I decided to dedicate an entire weekend to the celebration of its approaching arrival. This weekend will be golfing without losing half my body water to perspiration, browsing through crafts at our local city park, scrapbooking, cooking, and watching football with Steve. (Oh, and homework. Can’t forget the damned homework. I guess it can be considered a fall item, as most students head back to school in the autumn months. ) I want to cook, snuggle and be happy.

Most of all, I want to enjoy my life and my time, which is something I haven’t been doing much of in recent months. Work is a rat race. The evenings that aren’t spent working overtime (but not getting overtime pay) are consumed with homework. Then it’s off to bed to start it all over again. I’m entering a particularly hormonal time of the month, so my normally structured schedule is out of whack and I’m a bit behind with the schoolwork, which is stressing. me. out. I have six more weeks in this statistics class, so any of you out there who believes in a higher power (ANY higher power — I’m not picky!) please send prayers/wishes/good thoughts my way.


I did some research today and discovered that Peyton Manning does, indeed, have a very pretty, intelligent and successful wife. Damn. Another dream dashed.

We didn’t hear a peep out of N or his mom today, so we’re holding to the “no news is good news” adage whilst keeping our fingers crossed that he is behaving and will continue to do so. Thankfully, the kid is so transparent that anyone can immediately tell exactly what he’s up to or when he’s lying … and believe me, he isn’t any good at lying. When questioned, he caves. Quickly. So when Steve called him out on the reason behind his antics, he had nothing much to say … and apparently was able to perform in a satisfactory manner at school today. Imagine that.

My approach to this problem has probably left some of you believing I’m cold-hearted and uncaring. I may even be accused of ignoring the seriousness of what is going on in this child’s mind and life. That’s not true. I do care, and I do recognize that N has had a less than perfect childhood thus far. He’s got some issues, and he needs and deserves caring adults in his life to help him get through it all.

That said, though, I’m not in the business of babying or coddling. I’m a firm believer that all actions should be executed in love … but I’m also an advocate of tough love. I think people get too caught up in the pyschodrivel that seems to greet us with every change of the channel. Everyone’s got problems, and we all blame those problems for our own perceived inadequacies. They’re excuses, pure and simple.

Now, of course N is a child, and he couldn’t control his own circumstances. Yeah, he had a rough childhood. It sucks, and it wasn’t fair. But there isn’t a darn thing any of us can do now to change it. What’s done is done, and there are millions of other children enduring the same thing. What we all have to focus on now is change … turning his life around so he’s safe, happy and aware of the fact that we all love him. Everyone needs to get over the fact that life was unfair, abandon the feelings of guilt and freakin’ take care of business. It’s the only thing that’s going to save him.

I’ll keep you posted.

So I worked today from 8 until 5:40. Arrived home at 5:50. Worked on my statistics course until … what time is it now? My entire evening was consumed by formulas and concepts that mean absolutely nothing to me. I’m not a big fan of statistics, because in my opinion they tell us nothing about the real world. Nothing. People and life are so unpredictable … statistics is nothing more than a snapshot, a guess. Bah. Ridiculous. It’s eating up all my time … my kitchen is a mess, there’s laundry to be done, there’s junk lying everywhere in this house. We’re supposed to help my parents move my sister into her new apartment Saturday, and I thought we might make a little mini-trip out of it and drive back to Elkins tomorrow night after work, stay at a hotel and enjoy a day away. I’m not sure that’s possible, what with impending statistical homework doom, a dirty house and no clean clothes to wear. Maybe, just *maybe* I can knock off work an hour early tomorrow and get a few things done around here. Pray that none of my clients gives me any trouble tomorrow.

Funny story … Steve put a steaknife in my purse the other night while we were dining out. As in, last week. It’s still in my purse. I had a meeting today with my most difficult realtor, and don’t you think I didn’t consider whipping that thing out and ruining her day. ‘Cause I did. Think about it, that is. Sadly, she’s still perfectly in tact and able to terrorize poor unassuming newspaper girls like me.

Love, peace and chickengrease, y’all. I’ve got a house to tidy.

And dreams of Peyton Manning to dream.