Twelve Days of Cold Survial

On the first day of cold Survival, my true love sent to me (okay so there’s no true love, but let’s pretend)...A round of denial for towards getting a cold

...Two ZiCam Jolts...

...Three Cold Eeze boxes...

...Four dizzy spells...

...Five little naps...

...Six coughing spells...

...Seven Kleenex boxes...

...Eight headaches pounding...

...Nine sneezes sneezing...

...Ten days of drugs...

...Eleven pitty parites...

...Twelve days complaining...

I've Gone and Done it Now

Aside from this fantastic cold moving it's way through my system, now inconveniently lodged in my nasals passages in the form of mucus. Stupid Cold! I took some Benadryl last night, but think I might have to not take it anymore, it really knocks me out...I drove to work in a fog this morning. In fact can't even remember the drive. Creepy.

So what, you ask, have I gone and done? Well, I've joined Junior Achievement. I've been looking for a way to volunteer and I'm so not the Habitude for Humanity type of volunteer. I just don't see myself on a roof somewhere hammering nails. Which got me to thinking what I was good at, business, professional type of stuff. The MomUnit and Oldest Bro both participated in JA and both enjoyed it tremendously. From their very own website, "Junior Achievement uses hands-on experiences to help young people understand the economics of life. In partnership with business and educators, Junior Achievement brings the real world to students, opening their minds to their potential." Yah, I can bring the real world to life. I'm sure I can.

I've already contacted them, and within seconds had a phone call from them. I so wanted to ask if they were that desperate for volunteers, but decided to be - ahem - professional. I have requested to work with Jr. High students or high school students in and around the Bellevue area. I have a meeting set up as an "orientation" - which probably just means they want to check me out and make sure I'm not some whacko - mental note, don't wear wacko suit that day.

Anyhow, they've got a ton of fantastic programs geared towards business and the real world. I can't wait to get started. I'll have little, mold-able minds to mess with. (insert evil laugh).

Back to my regular scheduled coughing attack.

Achoo! Cough! Hack Hack! Sniffle

For the record, I hate being sick. I'm a horrible sick person. It slows me down. Being sick means I can't go at my normal pace and have to be slowed down to cough, sneeze and blow my nose. I hate it and I want this cold gone. Granted it's only really been a couple of days of full on cold, but the cough has been around for nearing two weeks. Blasted cold/flu season.

I usually do what I can to work from home when I'm sick. Mostly because I'd rather be curled up on the couch with a fire going, hot tea by my side, and in my PJs, than at work coughing annoying everyone around me. See I'm a considerate sick person.

My new favorite cold remedy though is Cold-Eeze. Blueberry hooked me onto these. They "say" that it'll reduce the cold by half the time. Right! By my calculations, an average cold lasts 14 days. Since I've only really just started the nasal drip, more coughing and congestion part, I figure I have a good 5 more days till it's half. So, if I take twice as much Cold-Eeze wouldn't then mean that that time frame (7 days) would thus be cut in half too equaling 3.5 days for a cold and therefore it should be over. Have I mentioned that sometimes cold medicine makes me loopy?

My apartment now looks like a small pharmacy moved in. I have NyQuil (blasted kids who started using NyQuil to get high now all the good stuff that NyQuil had in it is gone). I have lotion-y Kleenex, I have cough drops galore. I have some other cough medicine. And I'm craving tomato soup (basically any time I crave tomato soup I know I'm sick). I made my cold soup last night though and put in a wee bit too much hot sauce. Definitely cleaned my sinuses though.

On top of all of that, I've become a germaphobe now and am constantly wiping down anything I touch at work anyhow. I hate to pass this on to anyone which leads me to wanting to work from home when I'm sick. And I'd be home right now if Pointy Haired boss hadn't scheduled a meeting for me mid day. I had to come in this morning I had several project kick off calls to make and all my stuff was here. My plan was to depart immediately following last kickoff call, but noooooo...have to have another meeting. Their fault if they get sick that's all I'm saying.

In closing, it's obvious that 1) I'm cranky when I'm sick and 2) I make no sense when I'm sick. Please disregard any nonsense written on this blog. I blame the cold medicine.

Do You See what I see?

Well officially, a snowman has blown up in my apartment again. Officially, I've kicked off the holiday season. I've heard many theories as to when to decorate or listen to holiday music, but I tend to ignore them all. My apartment. My rules.

Friday after the feast I cleaned up the joint a bit and then proceeded to make a mess by pulling out all the boxes of Christmas. Each year I try to get rid of some older items and replace them with new ones. I figured if I don't get rid of any I won't be able to walk in the apartment. This year, I got three new ornaments this year. Each year I get new ornaments, and the old ones are easy to replace because I usually break one or two. Then there's the cat who helps with breaking ornaments. He generally leaves the tree alone, but the last two years (this year and last) he's found them interesting and will occasionally walk by and swat at one or two.

Saturday was the Apple Cup, Washington State Univ (my alma mater) and UW rivalry game. This year the Cougs won (WSU) and it was a good game, but both teams were battling out for last place. I had a quickly little Apple Cup party in which we drank Appletini's (Thanks Vanessa) and ate German Apple Cake (Thanks HikerGirl). As I mentioned, the Cougs won 42-35, though they tried to "Coug it".

Sunday evening I read the Project Management for Small Projects book. Another excellent book in my opinion. A lot of items in it were the same old PM stuff, but there were a few other items in which I have already incorporated into my projects. Every little bit can help keep my projects on time and on budget. Of course too many processes makes managing projects too complicated.

I'm not my witty self today as I'm feeling a bit under the weather. I have a cold coming on strong. It's starting with a fantastic cough that won't go away (BeagleBabe- I know you warned me). I decided to work from home this afternoon to save the office mates from my hacking.

Iron Chef Battle: Tom Turkey vs Chef Jenn

Battle Turkey commenced at O dark thirty on Thursday morning. My body thought it was a work day so prompted me to rise early. Since I was awake, I figured why not get up and get to it. Turkey dinner is never an "issue" for me with regards of making it, it's the timing and the damn bird that generally causes me grief. This year would prove to be no different.

I had 8 turkey eaters, two wittle tiny dogs, two LARGE dogs, and a hiding cat for dinner. (We can ignore the cat since he never ever came out) and once you see one of the dogs you'll understand Pookie's reluctance.

First thing in the morning I decided to get the Turkey put together and ready to be put in the oven. I cook my turkey in bags every year because they come out perfectly - so they say. This year Tom was an 18 pounder - which means a very large bird. My goal was to have plenty of left overs. Tom was pulled from his resting position in the fridge and put on a roasting pan rack to have his innards removed. Only Tom wasn't quite thawed. Eh, what? I stood there, transfixed with disbelief that AGAIN my bird wasn't defrosted (last year I had the same issue). Tom had been in the fridge since Sunday, surely he should be thawed. Nope. So into a ice bath with him to get him thawed a bit more to get out the insides. Finally, I was able to prep him accordingly. Vegetables inside, salt/pepper on the outside and now the challenge. Me, an 18 lb slippery bird and a bag. One leg in, the second leg in, first leg pulls out, push it back in, other leg pops out...and so on. Smart as I am, I decided to stick him in from the other end so the legs don't keep popping out. Stupid bird.

Finally, Tom is safely in the bird with relatively little turkey gunk all over me and the kitchen. He's ready for the oven. But first, I must admit that Wednesday I had to call the Turkey Hotline. I had the bag but not the chart to cook it. So I hopped on the phone to call I800 Turkey. A recording greeted me and I sat for 15 minutes until it got to how long to cook the bird. Great, that in hand I knew I was ready.

So according to the Turkey hotline, the 18 lbs of turkey flesh would need 2.5 hours. (Cooking in a bag decreases cooking time.). But knowing that my oven is a bit off (like the cook in the kitchen) I figured 3 hours plus 3o minutes for it to sit after. In at noon it went.

In the meantime, I realized I had voicemails. Voicemail one was from my Bro who called to notify me of a CheezWhiz sighting in a local store. While I giggled at him looking out for his little sister, I was glad I was able to finally find CW at another Fred Meyer store in Bellevue.

Dressing made and in the fridge, broccoli casserole made and in the fridge, carrots made and in the fridge, turkey prepped, I was all set for Thanksgiving by 9am. I had the rest of the day to just hang out. So I sat and watched the Macy's parade.

Guests started to arrive. HikeGirl arrived with Bread in a Can. He Thanksgiving assignment was to bring bread. She thought it would be fun to at least try this Bread in a Can. I feel it is my duty to warn you all....NEVER EVER BUY BIAC. It was disgusting. But at least we tried it.

Claudia and her mom were next to arrive. Their Thanksgiving assignment; cranberries. Not only did they bring cranberries in a can, but homemade cranberry sauce. MMMM.

Sharon and Sally arrived shortly after. Sharon is Mark's sister and Sally is her partner. I've met them both several times and adore both of them. Very low key and easy going people. They brought the "kids" Bella (The Rottweiler) and Ninja (The Lab mix).

Mark and Vanessa brought pie and their two wittle puppies (Buttercup and Teabiscuit).

So as you see I had a crowed. Left to Right: Bella, Claudia, Sally, HikerGirl (Margo), Vanessa with Buttercup, Mark with Teabiscuit, Claudia's mom (Eisell I believe is her name), Sharon, Ninja and Chef Jenn.

So by 2:30 I stuck Tom with a meat thermometer into the breast and it registered 140F. Great, I had easily another hour to reach 180. Which was fine because we had clam dip (another family tradition) to keep us company. At 3:30 I poked the bird again, the breast registered 180F and the thigh 170F, the bird was ready to come out. Tom sat on the stove for 30 minutes as I made the mashed potatoes, cooked the dressing, broccoli casserole and carrots. Then came the daunting task of getting Tom out of the bag without losing all the juices to make the gravy. Claudia and I spent the next 5 minutes struggling, but we won in the end.

I started to carve into Tom, feeling relieved to have won, when, Wait, what... it's still raw in the middle. Holy crap! Then I remembered, it wasn't completely thawed, and perhaps the meat thermometer didn't go in far enough. Dammit! I had 7 hungry people, and a big Rotty waiting for turkey. So Claudia and I carved off the meat that was cooked, thankfully, and served up dinner. What a spread we had. Turkey, dressing, broccoli salad, carrots with brown sugar and walnuts, mashed potatoes and gravy, homemade cranberries, real bread (not bread in a can), wine, and good friends.

The battle, in the end, was a tie. I had to cook the rest of Tom as we ate. And now I have a large amount of turkey left to make turkey noodle soup ... mmmmm... Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Burp!

Oh and Pookie did finally come out and gave me the why-for the rest of the night. I gave him a few pieces of turkey to distract him. So easy! So spoiled!

The Mystery of the Missing Cheeze Whiz

One of my favorite turkey day traditions is the making and later eating of the great Broccoli Casserole. My mother has made this for years, and subsequently I HAVE to have it at every Thanksgiving. If I don't, I pout. Where the MomUnit got this recipe is beyond me, but thankful I am for said recipe.

It is absolutely, positively NOT lo-cal in any way, shape or form. I mean one of it's ingredients is Cheez Whiz. CheezWhiz for heaven's sake. Have you ever read the back of the CheezWhiz bottle? Me neither, I'm too afraid of what I'll see.

I've been slowly purchasing all I need for the big feast tomorrow. I'm hosting Thanksgiving for several friends who normally don't do a big family thing. I've got everything I need, including an 18 pound turkey in my fridge thawing out. But I cannot find CheezWhiz.

I started my search at my favorite QFC. They are remodeling and so their inventory is anything but accurate and missing quite a few of my favorite items. I asked the store worker bee where I could find CheezWhiz. This particular worker bee I'm sure flunked out of basic communication class 101 since all he did was provide me with a blank stare as if I was speaking Russian. Moving away from the fellow with glossy eyes, I found the store manager. Requesting my beloved CheezWhiz he directed me to aisle 3. None of the aisles have numbers due to aforementioned remodel. Using my ubber PM deduction skills, I counted three aisles from both sides, and went up and down both those aisles. No CheezWhiz. I found Velveeta, and CheezWhiz in a can, but I need the jarred CheezWhiz.

And so I moved on.

My next stop was my favorite Safeway in which SLSIL and I stopped in this past weekend to purchase a few Thanksgiving items. We wondered to where we thought it would be. Nothing. None. Nada. Zip. But whilst standing in the aisle, the store manager was showing another lad where the CheezWhiz in a can was. How hopeful for us. I asked Mr. Manager if they had it in a bottle. He said they are not stocking it any longer. Ugh! Why? Why I ask.

Undaunted, I knew of at least 4 other stores I could hit without driving way out of my way. Yesterday, I hit the local Safeway by my office. Nope. They aren't carrying it either.

On the way home yesterday, I hit QFC, an Albertson's and another Safeway. None of them carry it. What? Why? Without CheezWhiz how can my broccoli casserole live. Though all stores mentioned Velveeta to me. The poor, unfortunate store manager of the last Safeway I stopped at was gifted with a 38 year old woman, about ready to break down and throw a tantrum over CheezWhiz. I swear to god I was seconds a way from throwing myself on the floor and kicking and screaming until someone got me my CheezWhiz.

Pulling myself together, I figured the Fred Meyer in the Hood (aka Lynnwood in which I live) might, just might have it. I mean after all, CheezWhiz is something that I see as a lower income type of food - like deep fried pig ears and generic beer (both of which are sold at said Fred Meyer). I drive my sorry ass to Fred Meyer, fighting traffic as I go. Cursing the broccoli casserole and it's need for CheesWhiz (followed close by a curse to the MomUnit for ever introducing me to this tantalizing treat). Fighting an SUV for a parking spot (all the while ducking so if gun shots would ring out perhaps they'd miss me). I darted into the FM, went to the information counter and asked. Missy, the worker on duty, gleefully said, "Why yes, we do carry it. Let me show you." Following the overly perky, way too cute Missy, we stopped in front of the processed cheese in the refrigerator section. Scanning quickly, she realizes it's not there. Turns and indicates to me to follow her. I follow Missy, to aisle 7. She points to the top shelf. Excitedly I rub my hands together, I sweat in anticipation of finally finding my long lost CheezWhiz in a jar. I glance up and see Missy pointing at Velveeta!

I give up. Velveeta it is. God only knows how this casserole will turn out.

I did happen upon the wine aisle as I walked, defeated, to the cash register. Bought myself a bottle of wine to wash down my sorrows with.

The first step in addictions

The first step is admitting you have an addiction right? I admit I just might have one. I know I have an addictive personality (and I would add that includes people being addicted to me – I’m just sayin’) in that once I latch on to something to do or read or whatever, I obsess with it like crazy until I’ve completed the task, or I’ve grown bored.

Examples of said additive personality include Scrapbooking. I tend to start a “project” or a new scrapbook and focus on it 100% until it’s done. Every waking hour in which I’m not actually at work earning $$ for my addiction, I spend on it until it’s done – or more accurately until I run out of brilliant ideas.

Another glaring example is photography. While I used to be a photographer, then gave it up when I gave up an X-BF and now I’ve decided to be a photographer again. I put all my energy into re-studying, buying a new camera, going out and shooting to remember what the hell I was doing, processing photos, making notes, reading books, posting photos, etc. Until at last I felt comfortable with my ability again.

Then we always have the Chef Extraordinaire addiction. Everyone who knows me knows of my addiction to recipes, and more accurately my addiction of trying new recipes. I have a brandy snifter in which I have little scraps of paper with a recipe on it. Each week I pull one, two or three recipes out (depending on my availability to cook at home) and try them. I set a goal to get through the brandy snifter by the end of the year. Dumb Goal to be sure. First off, I keep adding 10-20 new recipes each month. Second, I couldn’t possibly have enough time to try the thousand that were already in there. So in an attempt to help me with my goal, I sat and went through each-and-every piece of paper and removed the appetizers and desserts. Once that job was done I had only about 750 recipes. Still too many, so adjusted my goal to be “as many as possible”.

And so the point of this entire blog is that I’ve latched onto another item that suddenly is in the forefront of my mind. Now, you all know that I’m a major PM nerd. Geek with a capital G. I love everything about PM’ing – with the exception of budgeting. Why? Because a numbers girl I ain’t. I knew I could learn about budgeting, or get hints/tips etc from a book somewhere, like say Amazon. And so the search began.

In my search for a book on Amazon I uncovered three more PM books I absolutely can’t live without. And so here I am with three new PM books to read (have I mentioned I love curling up at night with a good PM read?) and no time to read. It’s killing me I tell ya.

The one I have started, and have had to put a timer to remind me it was time to go to bed is Emotional Intelligence for Project Managers. Now, being I’m a girl, I assumed I was in touch with my emotions. Turns out, not the case at all. This book has a test in it to provide you a level of emotional intelligence. The scale ranges from, do you even know what an emotion is to crying like a baby because of a hallmark commercial. As I said, I naturally assumed I’d be more on the crying side, so you can imagine my surprise when I scored well toward the “do you know what and emotion is.” To my credit, I do think the questions are very directed toward work situations, and admittedly I don’t get “emotional” at work, at least I try not to. Yet, I discovered that – surprise – dislike toward a co-worker is what dropped my score to the basement. Seems if you are judgmental, you score low. But I say, how can you not be judgmental when certain people you work with are idiots? It’s not possible to not judge them. They by their own actions ASK to be judged.

Anyhow, I’m keeping that in mind, but not changing my “feelings” towards certain skiptards in the area. I’m just sayin’.

The second book, which will be an easy read (assuming I get time to read, what in between my busy social calendar, catching up on Smallville, and coffee breaks) is Finish What you Started: 10 Surefire Ways to Deliver your Projects On Time and On Budget. Okay, so any title that uses the word “surefire” should automatically be questionable. Nothings “surefire” unless you put in the effort to make it so. Regardless, there are some tips in there that I’m sure will help me deliver my project, most importantly on budget. It has some killer templates in there for tracking projects effort that I can’t wait to use and more importantly understand. See, this is where I geek out a big (yes I know I’ve already geeked out on you, but deal with it). I love templates. They, to me, drive the process, and provide you with – well – a template, so you don’t have to start from scratch.

The third and final book that I won’t be able to read anytime soon (without calling in sick to work) is Project Management for Small Projects. The reason I thought this would be useful is that the PMBOK and almost all other forms of PM literature assumes that your projects are long (year or more). In our business our projects are typically shorter (3-6 month). There is the occasional long project, but I emphasize occasional. Naturally trying to fit the square long project process peg into a round small project hole, is not easy. Not easy at all. I complete understand that the methodology laid out from PMI should be considered flexible in that not all projects will fit into that box. Yet, I’ve found it hard to put some of their processes into any type of useful practice.

And so I’m *sure* after reading these books I’ll be back in the standing of PM Goddess.

Pet Peeve # 5789
When people ask for assistance and then won't shut their yaps long enough to hear you answer their supposed important question.

I Think I Love you!

No I won’t break out in David Cassidy harmony – unless PMDude wants me to…but instead I’m in love.

L.O.V.E.

Now granted I’m a year behind on this crush, but I’m sure you will understand why I am in said love.

It’s no boy. They just leave you hurt and wondering what you did wrong. No this love is a true love. One that will never let me down. And if it should, I can tow it’s ass to a garage and fix it ASAP with little to no effort.

No the love of which I speak is an Italian Ford Mustang Giugiaro Concept.

My heart went pitter-pat. Or to quote PMDude, “I think I just wet myself.”

Now the double whammy here is it’s ITALIAN. And I swear I was Italian in another life. I’m sure of it. I eat Italian (read: Love Italina). I drool over Italian men. I lived there. I speaka soma da language…va bene! So it’s inevitable that I MUST have this car (of course marrying a rich Italian dude will help in this dream – but whatever it takes).

There are some go-fast gadgets that gives makes this beauty a 500 hp dream car. FIVE HUNDRED HORSES! That's enough power to fry the wheels on take off.

True this is a concept car, and it will unlikely ever be built into full production, but rumor on the Mustang Super Rumor Highway is that Ford is likely to use some element in the 2010 Mustang. Which by then, my Mustang will have been paid off and in need of a replacement – maybe.

And who is the Giugiaro anyhow. He’s an impressive car designer who has put his name on a car in almost every car maker in the world – from Fiat, Alfa Romeo, and Volkswagen to Mazda, Lotus and Bugatti – none other than Fabrizio Giugiaro . "When we saw the new Mustang, we knew two things: It was the best we'd seen since the original, and we had to get our hands on one," said Fabrizio Giugiaro, styling director of Italdesign – Giugiaro S.P.A.

This baby has a longer hood and the trunk is barely visible, the car looks more like the original fastback – at least from the side. This dazzling concept car reinforces the freedom and rebellion synonymous with Mustang. WOOF!

Check out some of the new “features”:

**The single curved glass panel that bridges the windshield and rear window, serving as the concept's roof. Produced by Solutia of Detroit, the panel is made from a special type of crystal that filters out 100 percent of UVA rays while providing unfettered vista views.

**Its dramatic doors, which are hinged at the base of the upright A-pillar and open vertically at the touch of a button.

**Bespoke taillights, which are three separate elements as found on the 1964 Mustang – but reinterpreted into a more dramatic arrow shape that links to the louvre panels that replace the rear side windows.

**The interior – featuring a dramatic instrument panel that sweeps the width of the car; circular gauges that project from behind the steering wheel; dark brown horsehide-covered ( I could do without the horsehide – though admittedly I first thought it was cow and couldn’t figure out what was up.).

**The sporting-but-elegant 20-inch rims, fitted with 275/40 tyres on the front and bullish 315/35 tyres on the rear.

**4.6L V8 Supercharged engine….

**Rear view CAMERAS instead of mirrors.

This beautiful Mustang concept is no pretender that's all show and no go. Far from it, this vehicle is fitted with some of Ford Racing's best performance ideas.

Oh man, my heart cant’ take it. I might have to to home and take the rest of the day off.

From here the view is stinky

Again, I open with a warning. Miss Jenn is currently occupied and in her place is her alter, more eviler (yes that's a word) ego Miss CrankyPants is present and accounted for. I've spent the last day and a half (approximately 8 hours total) having computer issues brought on by IT and upgrading to a new "and improved" operating system. 8 hours loss of productivity only to discover the changes did not fix our very nagging issue. So now, I'm behind. I have more emails in my Inbox then I care to, two project plans to write, status notes to write up, hand off emails to send/confirm, all combining to open the door to Miss CrankyPants and her side kick Mr. StressMan.

Being stressed one of my not so attractive qualities comes out way too much. Miss Judgmental. And so with that I tell you this story.

I know it’s likely just me, but I feel the need to write about this none the less. As Patron Saint always says, “My blog. My rules.” I also realize that everyone stinks at some point. Don't get me wrong, I'm not an idiot...I just don't appreciate other people's stink. Like let's say hypothetically if a person in your cube farm farts. Not funny. Stinky!

But I digress.

The woman’s restroom in this office complex needs to have a “StinkOMeter” outside of it. A warning device that allows you, the unsuspecting, to decide if you want to "Enter At Your Own Risk." It’s quite unfair to walk in be introduced to a wall of green fumes that are strong enough to curl ones hair and make one's eyes water.

I’ve put some thought into how the StinkOMeter would register said odors and I correlated it to the National Threat Advisory.

Green: Low risk of stench . Safe to enter.

Blue / Guarded: General risk of stench; should consider breathing through nose only upon entry.

Yellow / Elevated: Significant risk of stench; prepare yourself. The need to put nose down shirt is likely.

Orange / High: High Risk of Stench. Absolutely no breathing through the mouth upon entry. Hair will curl miraculously upon entry.

Red / Severe: Severe Risk of Stench. . Eyes will water. Green haze will fill the air. Enter at your own risk. Gas masks should be worn for entry into this facility. Do not attempt to enter without one.

I'm telling you this system would save hundreds, millions of women from that fateful entrance into a restroom.

November slams in like a Lion

Hello My Kittens. It’s grey grey (or is it gray?) day here in the NW. Wind storm coming, and ahead of it is torrential downpour of rain. But the other grey news is it’s Monday. Why do Monday’s have to suck so bad? I had forgotten yesterday was Sunday until my faithful alarm rang at O’dark thirty this morning. Rolling over I wondered why on earth it was going off when clearly it was still the weekend. But alas, I recalled that no, it was truly Monday. Then I heard it. The hammering of rain on the tin roof of the carports out side. “Oh hell,” I thought, “Today’s commute is going to suck.”

Now you’d wonder why I would think that in a part of the world where it rains a good lot of the time, I’d be concerned with drivers not being able to drive in said rain. Let me assure you dear readers, Seattle people can’t drive period. Yes, I’m one of them, but at least I have enough sense to know when it rains, that it’s not snow and thus does not require 45 MPH on the freeway.

But then again, I did get to be slowed to a crawl while the cops sorted through 4 cars who clearly took a topsy turvy spin on the freeway – I know this because their headlights weren’t facing the direction we were going. So you have two types of drivers when it rains. The slow poke what I call “Mary” drivers and the speed demons who I affectionately call the “dumbass” drivers. So matter how you look at it, they can’t win. All drivers on the road suck more than me! Clearly. I read somewhere the following, “why is it when someone’s driving slower than you, you call them a moron? But when they drive faster than you, you call them a jerk?” Indeed, why is that?

Last night marked a major milestone in my year. I decided on a birthday theme. I know what you’re thinking, “but Jenn, you’re birthday isn’t for a month or more.” Less you forget I am the queen of Planning. I planned my Halloween party two months before it took place. So it seems only fitting that I should have my birthday planned. And thanks to the Newlyweds who helped me decide this…

So without any further ado…. Or is it adue? Or adui? Anyhow, without waiting any longer…I give you…Jenn’s 39th Birthday Theme (insert drum roll here)

You bet your sweet 1970's bell bottoms...a Fondue Party! Or a FonDon't. bahahahahah. Get it?

How far does crazy extend to in a family?

This, I guarantee, will be a random post. The Committee has several topics they are swishing back and forth in my mind but none are large enough for an individual blog. Therefore, random. You love it, you know it.

I think it goes without any argument that Charles Manson is C-R-A-Z-Y-Crazy! I just got done watching a Dateline show titled "The Mind of Manson" in which an FBI Profiler (sidebar: if I had my wits about me when I was 2 I would have studied hard and become an FBI Profiler when I grew up. Instead I'm a PM Profiler. Not nearly as classy and certainly doens't pay as well. Oohh and of course as said FBI Profiler, I'd work the coolest cases with the hottest agents in the business.) dissects Manson's ramblings during an interview with a Today reporter in the 80's. Throughout his interview the things that came out of his mouth and the pure belief he has in all his words stunned me. In fact, I'm very thankful he won't likely ever be set free. Did you know he doesn't think he's guilty of anything? True that he only murdered one of the 9 victims, but he sees nothing wrong with how he "assisted" in the other. Crazy!

Hypothetically speaking, if someone who was in a cube with several others managed more than an hour a day on personal calls is that too much? I'm just wondering. Is there some manual on cube etiquette? Are there any practical jokes that you could suggest that would never EVER be lead back to other cube mates? I'm just wondering...

And I have another question, but I have to preface it first. I have several friends, colleagues, enemies who are writers. I admire all of them. And all of them are very talented and I wish I had an ounce of their talent. But why do writers feel they are so superior when it comes to everyone else's grammar issues? We can't all be as perfect as me, or all other writers. But I am curious why certain so called writers feel they must correct everyone else's stupidity? You're all correcting this blog as you read, aren't you? I knew it! Blast!

Who came up with Fruit of the Loom anyhow? Those fruit guys are so recognized and almost iconic aren't they.

Okay, so final randomness. And I feel weird even discussing this because it seems so extravagant and unnecessary. But I'm considering hiring a house cleaner to come in once every other month to really clean. Now here's the thing, I'm "interviewing" a potential cleaner tomorrow night at my apt to get a quote, I felt SOOO obligated to clean tonight so that she doesn't think I'm a complete slob. It's not like I don't clean, I mean after all I was sold into child labor growing up to clean the Wraspir house. I was woke at the crack of dawn and wasn't allowed to rest until it was completely clean to the master's approving white glove. (Well, maybe it wasn't that bad, but it sure felt like it at times). I remember when the MomUnit was finally able to get house cleaners and I used to laugh that she'd ask us to "clean" the night before the cleaners got there...and yet here I am "cleaning". What the hell happened to me? I've turned into my mother.

The Apple by any other name...

HAPPY 60TH BIRTHDAY MOM!

Yes, that's right, the MomUnit, my best friend, my confidant, me in another life form, is turning 60 today. She tried like I've never seen anyone try, to hold on to 59.9999999 but as my sister said it best, she's used up her last "9".

This photo I dug up in my attempt to wish her a happy happy 60th and remind her how many moons have passed since the day she was brought home. The little bundle of joy is the MomUnit 60 years ago in the arms of my Grandma Spaid. I love the dog's expression. He's all, "What the....?" The year...well, you could do the math, but it was 1947. Truman was our president - and things were different then.

What Things Cost in 1947:

Car: $1,500Gasoline: 23 cents/gal

House: $13,000

Bread: 12 cents/loaf

Milk: 80 cents/gal

Postage Stamp: 3 cents

Annual Salary: $3,500

Minimum Wage: 40 cents per hour

Some thoughts about my mom. She's simply me. Lucky her, eh? Or I'm her...dammit. You know when you're a kid and you swear you won't be like your mother. How does it happen anyhow? We find ourselves completing each other sentences and have a number of inside jokes that, if told, no one else would think were merely as funny as we do.

We've done a lot in our lives together. She managed to raise a somewhat self sufficient, intelligent, talented PM of a daughter (that's me in case you're wondering). She has 8 grandchildren and one great grandchild (and one on the way). I've lost count where all she's lived and traveled.

I'm pretty fortunate though, I've known many people who aren't close to their moms and I always feel bad for them. I sometimes think about what life would be like if I didn't have a close relationship with the MomUnit. I would have ended up on the street more than once in my life that's for sure. But besides the financial support she's given me through the years (incidentally I'll be in debt for the rest of my life and likely grounded for life too), she's supported me in every single challenge I faced.

She was the cheerleader standing on the side lines yelling for me to succeed. From the day I decided to try out for the Antelope Valley Rifle squad - to the day I was determined to be the captain of the Quartz Hill Rifle Squad, to the day I graduated from high school, to the day I graduated from college, and still to this day - cheering me on to success in everything I do. She was the whisper in my ear when I would stray and be the rebel or do something wrong (whisper? Or was that a flick to my head?) She was the shoulder to cry on when all the times my heart was broken (and the one forced to listen to Careless Whispers over and over and over as I cried). I know, without any reservations, that all that I am - and all that I will be - is due to my mom. ( Mom - stop crying - you'll short out the computer).

Glitter Spice

I took today off from work so I could spend the morning spending my hard earned cash buying scrapbook supplies I absolutely don't need at the Scrapbook Convention. Yes, they have scrapbook conventions. I could have my own convention in my spare room with all the "supplies" I couldn't live without.

I discovered two things this year. 1) Women are ruthless and 2) they're breeding kids with stronger lungs nowadays.

But I digress ever so slightly. This blog is to tell you about me, Glitter Spice. See I had this fantastic idea for a scrapbook page for my flamingo costume. It involves feathers and glitter. You're scared aren't you?

Anyhow, my thought was to scrapbook the making of this costume. There were several elements that made up the costume so I thought small photos of each element then some type of directional device that directed you to the end result. Aside from all that, I figured the word "flamingo" needed to be all glittery and brilliant.

And now we get to Dumbass move #197.

Glitter bottles should have the following warning on their bottles: If you're a dumbass, and a clumsy one, do not, under any circumstance, precariously place open bottles on top of open laptops. There's a small, ever so slight chance that you may knock it over. I'm just sayin'.

There are a few positive notes from the Great Glitter Spill of 2007:

1. My keys are sure all glittery and pink.
2. The cat looks good in pink glitter
3. Every time I dump the laptop over, it's like its snowing pink snow...all over the place.

And why does glitter stick to EVERYTHING but the glue in which you are trying to adhere it with?

Here's the finished product. Now, I realize you can't tell, but the pink flamingo AND the word flamingo are all done with glitter. And yes, those are feathers at the bottom of the photo. No, birds were harmed in the making of this album. A computer might have been, but no birds.

This weekend will be a scrapbook fest again. So stay tuned for more glitter stories and more fantastic layouts from Glitter Spice.