Wednesday, February 29, 2012

When is something vintage? Is it just a fancy way to say something is old? Or we don’t know what the real price is because we found it somewhere. Opposed to calling the purse “something that was on the floor of my closet under a diaper box filled with clothes I no longer fit in to” we call it vintage?
So I googled it….

And there were a ton of answers….First they looked at second hand vs vintage

Second hand is apparently lesser quality or used. Vintage is still high quality. The quilt my grandma made before she was married that is displayed in my bedroom is tattered and delicate (No touch!). And since its has passed from her to me it is technically second hand, but I think the age and quality of the stitches (by hand mind you) makes it vintage. But another person said vintage is older “the definition of vintage is something like, “anything from 20 or more years ago”

Holy shit I’m vintage and so are my dogs.

Another look is vintage vs retro

So according to a forum on retro is dressing to one specific era and vintage is dabbling a bit in various eras for an over look. And after reading some of the posts I wants to figure out how to do pin curls! But I think I need to cut my hair because I might have too much…I digress.

So apparently we can call anything that is from another era but you are working into a look now, vintage.

So these hounds tooth black and white pants I found at Goodwill that are from Penneny’s from like 1997? Vintage. And my watch from Target that’s probably a man’s watch and looks like my Dad’s watch from 1989 that he return an estimated three times in what could be considered receipt fraud? Vintage

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Elusive Bitch

Forgiveness is me giving up my right to hurt you for hurting me

Someone posted this on their FB the other day. This particular person recently filed for divorce. Or should I say her husband filed for divorce, so she was filed on?  Upon??  Nonetheless, her marriage has ended and she has very publically been dealing with that as well as his infidelity. (Awesome part is that I barely know this person outside of high school how long ago so it’s more like reality TV than anything else.)

I have no idea where this quote came from. I guess I could google it….hold please.   Ah ha, look at that. --Anonymous. Now that guy knew his shit and knew how to keep his fat mouth outta other people’s business. So anyways, I have always had a hard time with forgiveness and saying sorry for that matter. You see I was raised in a house where you said sorry because that’s what you do. It is nice and it’s expected and basically it’s what good people do. So you say it. But the act of actually feeling it and then forgiving someone, well…that one was tricky. We’re a family who tends to bring up old shit in an effort to make a point about something or another. Instead it just reinforces that your “Sorry” was empty and forgiveness is an elusive bitch.

Typically forgiveness is sought after by someone who has hurt you in some manner and the last thing I want to do is give them anything, especially something they want. The other part, for me, is what will happen when whatever you did to hurt, you do again? If I don’t have my defenses up reinforced by the anger that is evidence of the hurt, then how will I protect myself? If I forgive I’ll just be blindsided by this eventually. So, these two lines of thought make me a less than forgiving person. This insightful little quote from a woman scorned puts a new-to-me spin on forgiveness. If forgiveness is something I give myself and not the transgressor that allows me to hang on to the anger as a protective layer of SPF but stops me from acting on the angry in order to move forward, perhaps the forgiveness will follow with time.  

Of course this is all in theory and not sure how it will play out. Also, it’s a bit long for a mantra. It’s not catchy like “Eye for an Eye” or "Fuck off" so it might be hard to remember in the heat of the moment. So, we’ll see. Not making promises but…yeah. We’ll see.

Monday, February 27, 2012

So The Boy goes through these phases of doing silly little things that make or break me as a parent. When you first see him do it you’ll laugh and then you’ll think “where the hell did he learn that?” and eventually you’ll think I curse the day I first cracked a smile about this now STOP.
I think one of the first things he did was he would squish up his eyes when he smiled. But he would smile, normal smile and then squish the eyes. If Tyra Banks was around he might say he was smiling with his eyes and send in the Jays. I have a very distinctive trait from my Dad’s side of the family which is when we smile our eyes squint and you can’t see our eyeballs at all. I’m not talking like you can’t see the whites of our eyes. Its like we didn’t want to see you when we smiled so we just squeezed our eyes shut. It’s called affectionately the Squint. My husband has mentioned a time or two that you could blind fold me with dental floss. My sister and I have it. It is present in many of our cousins and their children have it. So when The Boy first started doing this I wasn’t sure if this was the evolution of his Squint or what it was. But then I figured out it was his way of mimicking (read mock) my Squint. Little shit, quit acting like your mom.

Another thing that is fading out is what we call the Vanna White. He will find something, IE his blanket, and fling both arms to one side with his fingers pressed together, palms facing up presenting his finding to his audience with a surprised gasp. Even a sound that sounds like "tada!" He will repeat this "gasp" until you acknowledge what he has presented. Its not as if we were searching in exhaust for said item. And it could be a simple as a leaf on the floor. "Tada! I present to you my worthy audience, FOLIAGE!" He is a showman, much like his father.
Lately he has taken to shrugging his shoulder up and down in a “Dunno” fashion. Sometimes it’s just once or twice. And at times, it is perfectly place in our attempt at a conversation. I’ll ask him where his juice cup is and he’ll shrug his shoulders up and down because really he doesn’t remember nor care unless he is thirsty and right now not so much, so dunno. He has even incorporated this movement when being scolded. When I catch him doing something he should do, I’ll say his name in a manner that only a mother can, prolonging all syllables of his name raising the pitch of the last one as if it’s a question but we all know that its rhetorical. And he’ll look at me, holding the plastic golf club a few inches about the basset hound and with wide eyes, shrug the shoulders as if he can’t fathom why I would use such a tone when he was merely petting the dog with the club because that’s how the dog prefers to receive his affection.

Other times he’ll do it so quick and repetitively that it’s almost a dance. So I’ll ask him if he pooped and he’ll bop his shoulders up and down, wiggle a little bit, smile at me and then squint at me and laugh.
So, is that a yes?

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

There's No Crying at Your Desk

So being a contractor (which is fancy talk for being a temp) isn't as glamorous as the 1099 forms make you think.  Its a whole lotta sit around and listen to people tell you how busy they are and that their shit is gonna overflow to you...soon.  But soon is apparently relative because I've been reading like every blog I can find. 

Here are some that I've enjoyed lately.... (her humor is me!) (Love the earth but know the truth) (hee hee love dirty little secrets!) (cried)
But while reading the Pioneer Women  here I found myself crying at my desk.  The flood gates had opened and there was no saving face because the IT guys behind me were already looking at me. 

Hey guys! Don't mind me...unless you have a tissue.  If they were cowboys they would understand.  

This too shall pass

Since my son was born my mother-in-law has peppered her motherly advice with “This is just a phase and will pass soon.” Sometimes I bristle to this because I want to snap back and say “I know but I’m in the thick of things and I wanna pull my hair out. Or drop-kick someone, everyone.” Other times, it is the quiet and thankfully calming reminder that just like he grew past the stage of wobbling when he stood that made my heart and breath wedge together somewhere near my larynx, he will grow past the stage of biting for the joy of sinking his teeth into stuff when frustration. Lately, her mantra makes me a little misty-eyed with the reminder that my baby is growing and becoming an independent little man. 

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

I heart you, now hire me

I am working again, well, at least making some money and contributing to the bank account again. But this is just a temporary job and I’m ready to be embedded in a team again. I want to have tasks and jobs and goals and end-products and to belong. I have this false sense of security that we can pay our bills again and I’m back into a routine, but I don’t belong yet. And I continue to apply for jobs. I continue to hunt out that employer who has an opening that I can fulfill as well as they can fulfill my needs.
Apparently I’m dating employers. Hey lookey there, I knew I would find a Valentine’s Day topic to write about. Also apparent, like any other girl in her mid-thirties, I wanna get married. So just like, and eHarmony I am registered to, and Monster looking for that certain special someone who will want me, need me, and dream about me every single night (nod to Enrique Igelsias whom I’m listening to right now).

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Google the Shit Out of Everything

So the new job...excuse me, the temp job.  How's it going you ask?  Well, how nice of you to inquire. 

So where I was before was this huge, international organization.  They were ha-u-gha.  Big.  And they were international.  From the US of A to the EMEA to the APAC, ya you know me.  Like everywhere.  And they knew it.  Little too big for their britches.

From the moment you walked into the building there was a vibe in the air that made even the security guards, Beau and Mimi, seem threatening in their intimidating girth instead of a sad skit from SNL, the second half.  The grand travertine floors AND walls and glass doors and fancy chefs on site pulsed money and superiority.  And the A/C was literally the building looking down its nose at all who inhabited with a glacial stare.  But, while I was there I realized that really this stupid hoity toity company was just a red-headed step-child of a bigger more important company.  And this sad pathetic division had morphed from a slightly embarrassing mole to a malignant port wine stained tumor taking over the face of the entire organization.  And when tumors are encapsulated, what does the good doctor do?  Everyone?  CUT THAT SHIT OUT!  So, surprisingly the division was dumped. 

So why all the talk about the old company after starting with a new one?  Well, cuz they seem slightly, completely opposite.  Unassuming company presence from the get go.  A manager who seems pretty direct and to the point, my personal fave.  Then the first day they give me work.  ?? What's up with that?  You actually make your employees work?  Weird. 

And the work seems like it is totally over my head that I am googling the shit out of like 40% of the words I'm reading.   Because while I understand search engine optimization conceptually, how one uses a crawl test, link graphic analytics and content for lead gen on your landing page?????  Oh!  And you don't even want to get me started on convergence on an organic direct response campaign. 

Inhale.  Exhale.  Google.

On the upside.....I'm working.  I'm good stuff that applicable to the real world!  Oh and I'm earning!!  God I hope they don't realize how much I'm floundering and keep me until I can find my forever home.
For those of you who travel for work or even the spouses of those who travel for work, you know what the routine is the night before you leave.  Finish the laundry so that you can pack, review with your partner what is gonna happen while you're gone (aka what you'll be missing)and how we (the ones left behind) will handle everything (by ourselves).  The packing of the bags, your work stuff, and making sure that everything you have neatly tucked away for the convenience of your normal everyday life is not forgotten, including all chargers, deodorant, and power cords.  It can be chaos, unless you do it every week.  But is my husband the only one who sharpens his machete before a business trip???