Too much work + leaving early two days in a row = coming to work super early and praying to God to accomplish all that I need to accomplish today. I'm praying not only for quantity but also high quality for my clients' sake.
Leaving work at 5:30 p.m. = traffic. Serious traffic. Who knew? Not sure if it's a) normal, b) construction-related, c) Buffalo Bill's camp-related, or d) all of the above. Must never leave at such an early hour again.
Coming to work at 3:00 a.m. = no coffee. Anywhere. Who knew?
Tonight = dinner with mom, sis and Uncle Herb.
And now's the time on Sprockets when we dance: a little tune from the college years to sum up my life.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Upper Falls
I "borrowed" (a.k.a. stole) the image below from a friend's Facebook photo album. It makes the industrial side of Rochester look, dare I say, pretty! This may have been taken from the bridge at Pont du Rennes where we used to eat lunch while I worked at Kodak office. If only I wore glasses back then. Maybe I would have seen this more clearly each day.
And in other breaking news: I figured out how to make images larger without distortion. Amazing what you can discover if you take two seconds to Google it.
And in other breaking news: I figured out how to make images larger without distortion. Amazing what you can discover if you take two seconds to Google it.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Mini-weekend: Day 20
Gray skies. Dreary.
Perfect day to clean up a bit. Catch up on other people's blogs. And take Son #1 to his acupuncturist who I now love. He's not the same person I go to but he's really friendly and wonderful with kids. He has stuffed animals in the kids' treatment room and a great Chinese painting of a smiling dragon hanging on the wall -- which is perfect because both Son #1 and I were born in dragon years (i.e., 2000 and 1964). Most importantly, Son #1 enjoys the experience as much as I do.
After the needles are in and he's about to leave the room, the doc says, "Let me know if you start picking up alien signals or radio stations. Especially if it's a station you don't like." It's all very lighthearted and easy going. I just hope that, with time, the Tourette's diminishes. The thought of my gentle-souled little boy going through life with such an audible and visible affliction is enough to make me cry. His hoots, beeps, whistles, coughs, hacks, hand-swipes, blinking and facial grimaces are severe. Thankfully Son #1's pediatrician has given him a referral to the neuromedicine center at the URMC. We go next month.
Until then, we're giving him chamomile drops along with neck and stomach rubs. And offering heaps and heaps of prayers.
Perfect day to clean up a bit. Catch up on other people's blogs. And take Son #1 to his acupuncturist who I now love. He's not the same person I go to but he's really friendly and wonderful with kids. He has stuffed animals in the kids' treatment room and a great Chinese painting of a smiling dragon hanging on the wall -- which is perfect because both Son #1 and I were born in dragon years (i.e., 2000 and 1964). Most importantly, Son #1 enjoys the experience as much as I do.
After the needles are in and he's about to leave the room, the doc says, "Let me know if you start picking up alien signals or radio stations. Especially if it's a station you don't like." It's all very lighthearted and easy going. I just hope that, with time, the Tourette's diminishes. The thought of my gentle-souled little boy going through life with such an audible and visible affliction is enough to make me cry. His hoots, beeps, whistles, coughs, hacks, hand-swipes, blinking and facial grimaces are severe. Thankfully Son #1's pediatrician has given him a referral to the neuromedicine center at the URMC. We go next month.
Until then, we're giving him chamomile drops along with neck and stomach rubs. And offering heaps and heaps of prayers.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Guernsey on My Mind
Spent the weekend swimming, sunning, riding bikes, playing catch and basketball, buying English vines/sea grasses/Black-eyed Susans, having dinner/drinks at the neighbors’ house, going to 5:00 p.m. hangover mass at St. Louis (sorry mom!) and reading. It was all so much better than the angst-riddled week that I allowed myself to wallow in last week. And the sermon that Father Kevin gave was just what I needed: a gentle reminder that God does, indeed, provide.
I also devoured The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society so quickly that I started re-reading it the moment I finished. It was such a great little book that I didn't want it to end. Ever! The backdrop of the story is that of a London-based writer who inadvertently begins to correspond with a number of Guernsey islanders post WWII German occupation. While the book is written as a compilation of letters, they are written so sweetly and with such charm and personality, that I fell in love not only with all of the characters but also with the island itself.
Having lived briefly on Guernsey's sister island, Jersey, I could visualize the landscape well. And now I am craving a visit. I miss the beach, the dunes, the farms, the narrow roads, the beautiful Jersey cows, the sweet little shops in St. Helier, and my wild and wonderful girlfriend Gail. At $900 RT, however, I'm going to have to make do with daydreaming and waiting for the inevitable movie to come out.
So please, please, please do not let the Hollywood powers that be make it into a bland movie with Kate Winslet and Colin Firth. While they might do in a predictable pinch, I'm begging for a captivating lead actress with charisma and spirit. I want to be whisked away. With that said, maybe I can win the sweepstakes (or you can and bring me!*). Please enter! And, by all means, read the book so we have something to chat about on the plane.
Oh and check out this site. GORGEOUS.
*OMG: I just noticed that the sweeps is not open to residents of NYS. Noooooooooooo! Someone please win for me. Please!
I also devoured The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society so quickly that I started re-reading it the moment I finished. It was such a great little book that I didn't want it to end. Ever! The backdrop of the story is that of a London-based writer who inadvertently begins to correspond with a number of Guernsey islanders post WWII German occupation. While the book is written as a compilation of letters, they are written so sweetly and with such charm and personality, that I fell in love not only with all of the characters but also with the island itself.
Having lived briefly on Guernsey's sister island, Jersey, I could visualize the landscape well. And now I am craving a visit. I miss the beach, the dunes, the farms, the narrow roads, the beautiful Jersey cows, the sweet little shops in St. Helier, and my wild and wonderful girlfriend Gail. At $900 RT, however, I'm going to have to make do with daydreaming and waiting for the inevitable movie to come out.
So please, please, please do not let the Hollywood powers that be make it into a bland movie with Kate Winslet and Colin Firth. While they might do in a predictable pinch, I'm begging for a captivating lead actress with charisma and spirit. I want to be whisked away. With that said, maybe I can win the sweepstakes (or you can and bring me!*). Please enter! And, by all means, read the book so we have something to chat about on the plane.
Oh and check out this site. GORGEOUS.
*OMG: I just noticed that the sweeps is not open to residents of NYS. Noooooooooooo! Someone please win for me. Please!
Friday, July 24, 2009
Men are from Mars
When I worked in a couple of ad agencies many moons ago, I used to marvel at the hubris (read: egos) of some of the creative talent and the way in which they treated the peons who were there presumably to serve and honor them. Yes, they were smart and oftentimes very funny. Sure many of their ideas were great. But what's great on paper and not at all what the client wants is not great. Period.
Give and take should be mandatory because ideas can always be improved upon. Bi-lateral education and communication should be welcome because sometimes the client needs to be swayed away from an irrational course of action and vice versa. Sounds simplistic yet, in my experience, those workplace behaviors were rarely adopted in such environments.
For a long time, I thought it would be helpful to offer a day-long workshop for ad agencies (entitled something along the lines of "Art Directors are Creative Gods; Account Executives are Idiots") during which an industrial psychologist would walk teams through different vantage points -- both internal and external -- and the delicate art of respectful collaboration. It could be rolled out to agencies coast-to-coast because I don't think this age-old issue was confined merely to the environments in which I worked. The market could be pretty huge.
With that said, after overhearing a tech guy patronizing an obvious simpleton over the phone earlier today as I grabbed a cup of coffee, I now believe the market for this workshop may be even larger. I'm thinking the entire world could use a workshop called "I'm in IT; you (whoever you are) are a moron."
Maybe a line of t-shirts would work.
Give and take should be mandatory because ideas can always be improved upon. Bi-lateral education and communication should be welcome because sometimes the client needs to be swayed away from an irrational course of action and vice versa. Sounds simplistic yet, in my experience, those workplace behaviors were rarely adopted in such environments.
For a long time, I thought it would be helpful to offer a day-long workshop for ad agencies (entitled something along the lines of "Art Directors are Creative Gods; Account Executives are Idiots") during which an industrial psychologist would walk teams through different vantage points -- both internal and external -- and the delicate art of respectful collaboration. It could be rolled out to agencies coast-to-coast because I don't think this age-old issue was confined merely to the environments in which I worked. The market could be pretty huge.
With that said, after overhearing a tech guy patronizing an obvious simpleton over the phone earlier today as I grabbed a cup of coffee, I now believe the market for this workshop may be even larger. I'm thinking the entire world could use a workshop called "I'm in IT; you (whoever you are) are a moron."
Maybe a line of t-shirts would work.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Summer Solitude
I blocked next week on my boss' calendar for a vacation. I have nowhere to go, I just thought if I didn't schedule it, the summer would disappear. Since then, Son #2 signed up for camp. So much for getting out of here with the kids.
Last night, as Son #1 and I were driving home from grabbing sushi, he said, "Mama, you should still go on vacation without us. You need to relax." I replied, "That's so sweet but I wouldn't want to go without you. I would miss you." He said, "It's okay. We'd miss you a little but it would give me a week alone with daddy and that would be great."
I responded, "If I work, you would still have a week alone with daddy." He then said, "Don't work; you need a break without us. You should go to the beach."
I'm not sure whether to be sad that I could be gone a week without him really missing me or grateful that I could actually escape somewhere alone?!
For $522 I could head to Kripalu and take a week-long class in "Designing Your Destiny." Or I could just rent a shanty on the beach somewhere and meditate. Instead, I'll probably work.
Last night, as Son #1 and I were driving home from grabbing sushi, he said, "Mama, you should still go on vacation without us. You need to relax." I replied, "That's so sweet but I wouldn't want to go without you. I would miss you." He said, "It's okay. We'd miss you a little but it would give me a week alone with daddy and that would be great."
I responded, "If I work, you would still have a week alone with daddy." He then said, "Don't work; you need a break without us. You should go to the beach."
I'm not sure whether to be sad that I could be gone a week without him really missing me or grateful that I could actually escape somewhere alone?!
For $522 I could head to Kripalu and take a week-long class in "Designing Your Destiny." Or I could just rent a shanty on the beach somewhere and meditate. Instead, I'll probably work.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Wilco Will Love You Baby
Would it be weird to plan future family vacations around Wilco tour dates?
Three little words. Four syllables. Best show ever.
Such a gorgeous night for an outdoor concert at Artpark in Lewiston. Powerful sound. Soulful lyrics. Groovy beats with discordant sound. Poetic. Energetic. From entering the stage to the Price is Right theme song to shouting out to the lawn, "We mean your people no harm," Jeff Tweedy is hilarious. The music and Wilco performance was nothing short of phenomenal.
As an added bonus, Conor Oberst opened the show. Had I checked the tickets before entering the gate, I would have known prior. Instead I was really, really happy as Bright Eyes played the Main Street Armory a while back and I've kicked myself for ages for not going. (It was heavily promoted on WBER so I figured I would be at the tip of the tail on the Guassian age distribution for that event. Thanks but no thanks.) Anyhoo, the Mystic Valley Band was fabulous, too. And I loved that they performed in captain hats. I'm guessing they rode the Maid of the Mist before the show!?
After last night's show, I can understand why people packed up their lives and followed the Grateful Dead. I think I could take Wilco in doses large enough to kill.
Three little words. Four syllables. Best show ever.
Such a gorgeous night for an outdoor concert at Artpark in Lewiston. Powerful sound. Soulful lyrics. Groovy beats with discordant sound. Poetic. Energetic. From entering the stage to the Price is Right theme song to shouting out to the lawn, "We mean your people no harm," Jeff Tweedy is hilarious. The music and Wilco performance was nothing short of phenomenal.
As an added bonus, Conor Oberst opened the show. Had I checked the tickets before entering the gate, I would have known prior. Instead I was really, really happy as Bright Eyes played the Main Street Armory a while back and I've kicked myself for ages for not going. (It was heavily promoted on WBER so I figured I would be at the tip of the tail on the Guassian age distribution for that event. Thanks but no thanks.) Anyhoo, the Mystic Valley Band was fabulous, too. And I loved that they performed in captain hats. I'm guessing they rode the Maid of the Mist before the show!?
After last night's show, I can understand why people packed up their lives and followed the Grateful Dead. I think I could take Wilco in doses large enough to kill.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Bad Day: #6 and #7
On Monday night, I met my girlfriends at jojo for BYO wine night. The husband of one friend joined us which initially I thought may have stifled the conversation somewhat given that we always seem to talk about vile matters or sex (especially about her crazy, empassioned, sex life with him) but that wasn't the case. He was just as bad as we were. Instead of remaining quiet, I shared two stories from the past year which never made it to my blog (and, be forewarned, probably for a good reason).
While on the topic of Brazilians, I went into graphic detail about how, during my last bikini wax, after realizing how much intolerable pain I was in, I asked the woman if this was her first time. No, of course not! She then proceeded to maim me while telling me how she had gotten fired from her last position. Mid-wax, I had to make her stop and I bolted. The side that was done, what was remaining at least, was completely erratic (i.e., jagged edges); the side that was incomplete, albeit wider, looked smooth and even. I was a walking, God-awful, unsightly mess. (But really, who would see it?) The worst part was later that afternoon, when I went to the bathroom, I had to cut myself out of my underwear and throw the wax remains out. Honestly, who brings scissors to the bathroom? I had to go back into the office, grab them, field "why do you need scissors in the bathroom?" questions from the guys in the office and move on.
Another time, I went into the bathroom for a "routine visit." As had happened on a few occasions before, I got locked in but this time the lock wouldn't budge. So I spent what felt like a monumental amount of time pounding on the door and calling out for help. At times, men would enter the bathroom next door and ignore me. Finally the insurance agent down the hall rescued me. When I finally got back into the office, I asked the guys, "Did anyone happen to notice that I had gone missing for the better part of an hour (slight exaggeration)?" They responded, "Yeah, we just thought you were taking an enormous dump." OMG. Next time, assume that I'm not and come look for me, pleeeeeeeese! Later that week, the same thing happened to my boss. And the same guy rescued her. After that, they changed the locks. How you may ask? By putting our crappy lock on the downstairs ladies room, that's how. Now the Ameriprise folks, and their clients, can suffer the same embarrassment and we no longer have to send out the troops.
Maybe I should become a regular contributor to FML.
While on the topic of Brazilians, I went into graphic detail about how, during my last bikini wax, after realizing how much intolerable pain I was in, I asked the woman if this was her first time. No, of course not! She then proceeded to maim me while telling me how she had gotten fired from her last position. Mid-wax, I had to make her stop and I bolted. The side that was done, what was remaining at least, was completely erratic (i.e., jagged edges); the side that was incomplete, albeit wider, looked smooth and even. I was a walking, God-awful, unsightly mess. (But really, who would see it?) The worst part was later that afternoon, when I went to the bathroom, I had to cut myself out of my underwear and throw the wax remains out. Honestly, who brings scissors to the bathroom? I had to go back into the office, grab them, field "why do you need scissors in the bathroom?" questions from the guys in the office and move on.
Another time, I went into the bathroom for a "routine visit." As had happened on a few occasions before, I got locked in but this time the lock wouldn't budge. So I spent what felt like a monumental amount of time pounding on the door and calling out for help. At times, men would enter the bathroom next door and ignore me. Finally the insurance agent down the hall rescued me. When I finally got back into the office, I asked the guys, "Did anyone happen to notice that I had gone missing for the better part of an hour (slight exaggeration)?" They responded, "Yeah, we just thought you were taking an enormous dump." OMG. Next time, assume that I'm not and come look for me, pleeeeeeeese! Later that week, the same thing happened to my boss. And the same guy rescued her. After that, they changed the locks. How you may ask? By putting our crappy lock on the downstairs ladies room, that's how. Now the Ameriprise folks, and their clients, can suffer the same embarrassment and we no longer have to send out the troops.
Maybe I should become a regular contributor to FML.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Mini-weekend: Day 18
Spent Tuesday afternoon with my neighborhood girlfriends and all of our kids on the Sam Patch. Son #1 was beside himself with anger.
Son #1: I don't like to learn during the summer. I never wanted to go on this boat. What part of this remotely sounded like fun to you?
Me: We're outside, in the sunshine, with friends. That's fun to me. And we're experiencing the canal firsthand, rising up and down as they fill and drain the locks. It's cool to see from the water instead of the shore.
Son #1 was not convinced and spent the entire ride inside looking out the window.
Yesterday was spent in a wave of appointments including taking Son #1 to the acupuncturist to treat his Tourette's. When home, the vinyl siding dudes were pounding on the house. No respite. I felt like I needed a vacation from my vacation.
In the car on the way to my hair appointment, I heard the latest Cracker song that they performed while here a few weeks back. As I planned my escape, it suddenly became my new favorite song.
"Baby you need a break so lets just run away."
Son #1: I don't like to learn during the summer. I never wanted to go on this boat. What part of this remotely sounded like fun to you?
Me: We're outside, in the sunshine, with friends. That's fun to me. And we're experiencing the canal firsthand, rising up and down as they fill and drain the locks. It's cool to see from the water instead of the shore.
Son #1 was not convinced and spent the entire ride inside looking out the window.
Yesterday was spent in a wave of appointments including taking Son #1 to the acupuncturist to treat his Tourette's. When home, the vinyl siding dudes were pounding on the house. No respite. I felt like I needed a vacation from my vacation.
In the car on the way to my hair appointment, I heard the latest Cracker song that they performed while here a few weeks back. As I planned my escape, it suddenly became my new favorite song.
"Baby you need a break so lets just run away."
Friday, July 10, 2009
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Eating for Two
PITTSFORD, New York, July 9 -- Shocking news unfolds
Doctor: I'm concerned about your weight.
Me: Really? (Feigning surprise.)
Doctor: Twenty pounds in one year is a rate I'm not comfortable with.
Me: I've weighed this much before.
Doctor: Yes, in January 2002 . . . two months after having a baby.
Doctor: That doesn't count.
Damn bacon.
Doctor: I'm concerned about your weight.
Me: Really? (Feigning surprise.)
Doctor: Twenty pounds in one year is a rate I'm not comfortable with.
Me: I've weighed this much before.
Doctor: Yes, in January 2002 . . . two months after having a baby.
Doctor: That doesn't count.
Damn bacon.
Mini-free for all
Sunny. High of 77. Perfect day to sit inside the office and write a full-day workshop on Mastering the Complex Sale.
The stakes are high and so am I . . .
The stakes are high and so am I . . .
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Bacon for Mercy
I love how Facebook advertisements really target their audience. Seriously.*
Bacon really does make everything better! I'm planning to wrap my Change Management seminar in bacon just so my boss will love it . . . either that or go home tonight and drown myself in a giant vat of smoked pig lard.
Bacon martini anyone?
*But I hate how I cannot seem to get my images the correct size on blogger. Oh well.
Bacon really does make everything better! I'm planning to wrap my Change Management seminar in bacon just so my boss will love it . . . either that or go home tonight and drown myself in a giant vat of smoked pig lard.
Bacon martini anyone?
*But I hate how I cannot seem to get my images the correct size on blogger. Oh well.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Gotta Keep Cool Now Gotta Take Care
Last night, as I was watching Son #2 play Guitar Hero, I happened to notice that the song Radar Love had the notation "As made famous by White Lion." Who the frig is White Lion and why not give credit where credit is due: to Golden Earring??
Son #2 explained, "Because the White Lion version is better."
I was incredulous.
A moment later he finished the song, put his guitar down and said, "My career has ended." He then asked, "Do you want to listen to both songs on iTunes or see my nose hairs?"
Those are my choices? I'll listen on iTunes.
He played them both for me and we were still divided. "Listen to that guitar lick." Nope. You can't sway me.
"I know how to settle this," he stated and logged into whichisgayer.
"White lion is officially gayer than golden earring."
As a perennial gloater, I have to say, I told you so. Now, let's check out those fascinating nose hairs.
Son #2 explained, "Because the White Lion version is better."
I was incredulous.
A moment later he finished the song, put his guitar down and said, "My career has ended." He then asked, "Do you want to listen to both songs on iTunes or see my nose hairs?"
Those are my choices? I'll listen on iTunes.
He played them both for me and we were still divided. "Listen to that guitar lick." Nope. You can't sway me.
"I know how to settle this," he stated and logged into whichisgayer.
"White lion is officially gayer than golden earring."
As a perennial gloater, I have to say, I told you so. Now, let's check out those fascinating nose hairs.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)