It's astounding, time is fleeting, Madness takes its toll

Oh yah, Hi. Remember me? I write a blog here. Though you wouldn't know it. Yah, that stale bread smell you're getting right now...that's LAST week's blog.

I feel obligated to apologize, but then think, "Why?" So I'm busy. You'll have to deal with it while I struggle to find my happy place again. Some day. I will find that happy place.

Work is insane. The "crazy" side of me actually likes that it's insane. The "other" side misses the boring side of the house that lived with me for a couple of months. I knew when things were slow, that one day in the near future I would miss those slow days. And I do.

It's been an interesting couple of weeks for me. I've had several highs and lows emotionally with regards to work. I've had days where I've questioned how on earth they could have chosen me to work this program. I was able to almost convince myself that the reason I was "chosen" was because PMDude was on vacation that day. They're first choice was out of office, so they "settled" for me. Those were low days for me.

I've also had days of extreme confidence. Where I could walk into any situation and I knew, I just knew, I was a winner. That I was chosen for this role for a reason. They saw my potential and were giving me a chance to shine.

The reality is somewhere in the middle. Each day the confidence in my ability grows and I become more and more familiar with the requirements of this program. I'm challenging people who I normally wouldn't challenge and I'm okay with making decisions and directing the program a certain way.

I still do and will have to rely on the Dream Team. The experience that lives in this team I can't ignore. I've accepted that I'll make mistakes. It's a given. I wouldn't be able to grow if mistakes weren't a part of it. I've also accepted that I will have successes. Granted I'm hoping for more successes, and they'll be there. Overall though, at the end of the day, I can't wait to hear this team we're working with say, "We can't believe we survived this long without you." That, my dear friends, would be music to my ears.

What I am finding difficult to deal with is the office politics. I've never been good at politics. I think they're a waste of time and energy. I've never understood why there are individuals who have to posture and position themselves at the expense of the team or the company. Yet its becoming painfully clear that I not only have to welcome the politics, I may have to play a bit in their sand box. Thank god sand brushes off relatively easy.

In other non work related news, the parental units are here before they take a jet to Alaska. Its been nice having them around. It's been painful and frustrating to see Dad's - dare I say - progression with Alzheimer's. I just don't know how mom does it. I spend a couple of hours with him and I'm frustrated. I find I have to constantly remind myself that it's not him. It's not him. It's the disease. But man, it is hard to separate the two. Every time I see him I have a lot more understanding and compassion toward not only the MomUnit and what she deals with, but with any person who has to deal with taking care of a spouse.

And then I had a sad thought, "Who's gonna take care of me when I lose my mind?" The momentary realization that maybe no one, scared the insanity right out of me. How lonely it will be...how I sooo don't want to do that.

But I'll have to deal with that later. Right now I've got to turn back the hands of time and start to answer the 206 emails sitting in my inbox.

It's just a jump to the left, and then a step to the right....Let's do the time warp again

I can hardly believe that 1) it's June 24 and 2) It's Wednesday. I swear I blinked and 6 months went by and 3 days this week...gone!

I suppose the new work on my plate has caused time to fly. Every noticed when you're slammed that time just jets by without even leaving a calling card. I start the day at the same time I always do, 6:30 am - ish and before I know it I'm ready to go home. I can push away from my desk and feel like I've worked all day, but I can't really put a finger on what I'm doing.

Good news though, I am starting to dream about my job. That is my signal that I'm starting to get it. I'm starting to find a subconscious way to place the flood of information that's in my grey matter. I know when I hit this stage that it's just a matter of time before a sudden click will take place and everything will make some sort of sense. It's like when you put that last piece of the puzzle in and you sit back and admire the picture. I'm almost there.

Still stressed about being able to do this job successfully. It's a perfect opportunity to soar like an eagle, or I can crash and burn. But dammit I'm not going down that self pity path anymore. I can only do my best and see what happens. I sorta feel like I need to create my own serenity prayer that includes a line about "I accept I'm going to fail. And I accept that it's okay to fail." I can only learn from my failures. And I can almost guarantee there will be some blood baths.

But never fear, I'm getting there. I'm starting to feel way more confident about this job and way more sure of what I can and do bring to the table. At least that's how I feel now after a glass of wine.

The Hot Barbecue Man

I'm not quite sure what to say for Father's Day this year. It's rare, I know, that I would be at a loss of words, but I worry that anything I say won't do my Dad justice. I don't think I'm alone in this either. If you've been fortunate to be that kind of Daddy's Girl, you know what I mean. It's hard to describe a man who molded your life.

Dad was born in 1934 in a very small town in Eastern Washington. Things were tough back then, and yet the family survived. Dad graduated from high school (a graduating class of 4 I might add - or maybe it was 6 - but either way it was small). Then he set out to see the world.

I realize as I write this that I don't know what my Dad's dreams were back then. Did he dream of traveling? Did he think he'd have to stay in Irby and work the farm? Did he want to marry? Have kids? Did he accomplish any of his dreams? Has he regretted anything? What's his most memorable moments in his life? I need to ask these questions.

Dad's doing better these days, and for that I'm very grateful. We've had a few scares and I'm sure there are more to come. He's at that age now where a trip to the hospital is almost the rule instead of the exception. I hate this. My parents were supposed to live forever. They ....nevermind...I' can't write this line of thinking.

So today I just wanted to say Thank you Daddy. Some of my most memorable days are with you. I will forever cherish our little Father-Daughter outings we've had every year and can't wait to go again. I am proud to say so many of my character traits were instilled in me by watching you. By watching you be a man with integrity, love and compassion. So thank you. But let me not forget the most important thing you taught me...

Oh yah, BBQ'ing. I wouldn't be the self titled Master now if I hadn't grown up in a household in which you would have BBQ'd spaghetti if you could have found a way. Though for dinner tonight I won't be BBQ'ing. No instead one other meal comes to mind when I think of my dad...Pot Roast. So tonight, Dad, Dinner's on me. (which means if you know me at all it may literally be on me.)

And as I close this and wish you a happy Father's Day I'm reminded of a quote on a mug I once bought you, "Any man can be a Father, but it takes someone special to be a Daddy." XOXO

Life=Risk

I laugh how things come into your life at the most opportune moments. Receiving this video today from a random friend, priceless.

" I feel good; I feel great; I feel wonderful ... I feel GOOD; I feel GREAT; I feel WONDERFUL!"

I'm sitting here tonight watching the sun dip into the horizon. It's casting a beautiful pink hew across the sky. Suddenly I feel extraordinarily content. Relaxed even. Could a sun set really make one feel so content? Or...could it be the wine?

ahem

Big stuff happening all around me. And I mean BIG!

A couple of weeks ago I may have mentioned an large amount of stress brewing. I was asked to interview with Hotel CaliforniaSoft as a Program Manager. We were bidding on an enormous piece of work, and I'd be the Program Manager is we won it. Let me make one thing clear here...I am a Project Manager! I've never managed a Program of this size ... ever. We're talking millions of dollars over the next several years.

I was stressed to the max. I had an overwhelming feeling of doom should the interview not go so well.

As it turned out they loved me. Who knew I could be so charming? My interview, coupled with our excellent other team members work, won us this HUGE deal...which I now affectionately call it the Big Ass Deal (BAD). I'm now officially the Program Manager for a large chunk of change and the stress I thought I felt for the interview was nothing by comparison to what I feel now. Overwhelmed is a understatement.

Logically, I know I'm not alone in this. I have a fantastic team made up of some very talented and smart peeps. They are way smarter than me and have a ton more experience. I plan on tapping into that experience as much as possible.

Logically, I know I will most likely be fine. I'm a fighter. I'm think back to 4 years ago working at the Cat Shack in which I was deemed to "never be a PM" by them. All those old, lingering, thoughts of self doubt come trudging back with a vengeance. But still, I know that most likely I'll do fine.

Logically, I know I can do this. I know that I have the brain power and the stamina I'll need to get this massive BAD off the ground. It'll be ugly at times, and most likely blood will be shed. But I keep telling myself that the opportunity to shine is huge. I can be seen as a humongous success...and yet...I can also be seen as a huge failure with dire consequences.

Still, I have doubts.

I know there are two things I must do immediately in order to keep myself confident.

1. I must stop saying outloud to others that I'll suck at this. I most certainly don't want anyone to see the fear I have of complete and utter failure. I most certainly don't want to taint the views of those in powerful positions and have them start to question their decision to give me this program (which probably only really came to me because I'm a US based PM ... ).

2. I must start saying I'm a winner. I can and will make this Program the best and most successful program ever. I have to remind myself that while there will be battles that I will win and lose, I will not lose the war.

Right, it sounds so easy in writing.

I have had moments of pure panic that washes over me. The enormity of this $9M hits me hard at times and I shudder and want to crawl into my bed and never come out. But, as it turns out I found the cure for panic attacks. Ice cream. Who knew?

I guess what I'm trying to say is I'm scared. I also think I most likely wouldn't be human if I wasn't. The responsibility lingering above me scares the poo right out of me. But the thought of being a complete success and having one thing to really sink my teeth into makes me feel all giggly and geeky inside.

On a more fun note. Say hello to Baby Newlywed/Stalemates. Jack came to us last Monday at a whoppin 9lbs 11oz and 20 inches long. I've not officially met Jack yet as the "Rents" are hording them all to themselves and trying desperately to get a grip on having a newborn...but I'm sure very soon I'll be seeing this little devil. So to the Newlyweds I say, congrats. He's a lovely boy!

What happened to Honey?

I'm constantly amused at how a seemingly normal conversation can turn into a a walk down memory lane.

Remember way back when, when we had cassette tapes. Well, all the rage was to make mixed tapes. At least in my little neck of the woods. Blueberry and I would make several mixed tapes a year. I, being the ever so efficient one, would hate to leave blank space at the end of a tape. I never could get the recording just right so a song ended when the tape ended. So 90% of my tapes had a song cut off in the end. Which normally wasn't such a big deal.

Then came Honey. Not an overly thrilling song, and a little bit dippy. But Blueberry and I loved this song.

I put Honey on the end of a mixed tape at some point, and it cut out right before you find out in the song that Honey dies. So Blueberry and I used to joke and say, "I wonder what happens to Honey?" Which of course telling that story today to Mrs. Geek (I have no idea how we got on the topic, but we did), made me think about sharing the story. Don't you feel blessed?

My favorite part of this song are the lyrics, "She was always young at heart, Kinda dumb and kinda smart"...what? Kinda dumb?



Our conversation rambled from Honey to other dumb songs that Blueberry and I used to make fun of...and Teen Angel was one of them. I remember listening to it's lyrics and thinking, "this is the dumbest song ever". I get the drama of the time and I get how innocent and pure the music was thing, but really, "I'll never kiss your lips again, they buried you today." What kind of lyrics are those? They just make me laugh.

After the Honey conversation, Mrs. Geek and I had to start searching YouTube for other bad music that plagued the 70's. And I ran across this.



OMG....I was sooo a Shawn Cassidy fan. I had a satin jacket with his head air brushed on the back - actually it may not have been air brushed because this was WAY before air brushing was a big thing. Anyhow, I have a vague recollection of getting the jacket for a birthday and then promptly growing out of it...but I loved that jacket and Shawn Cassidy. Watching the video today my first thought was, "I bet he was gay."

And of course Shawn Cassidy led to Andy Gibb and Andy Gibb led to the Solid Gold and the Solid Gold Dancers...and then it just went way down hill from there.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go find out what happened to Honey.

A Grill by Any Other Name...

So HikerGirl and MarathonMan are moving. I know, sniff sniff. They will both be missed - a lot. But Montana skies are calling and they just can't help themselves. That, and a job offer.

In the decision of what goes and what stays there lived a Grill. It was a beautiful Grill. Only a year old or so. Only used a couple dozen times. It was a lonely Grill in need of some adventure and some serious Grilling. MarathonMan felt somewhat bad for the Grill. He knew that his Montana Grill and his Kirkland Grill wouldn't get a long, and really who needs two Grills? So what to do?

When suddenly a brilliant, bright light bulb lit above MarathonMans noggin'. "Why, I'll give it to the Grill Goddess," he thought. Running the idea past HikerGirl and it was decided that the Grill Goddess (who didn't even know there was a grilling "season". What's that all about?).

The phone call was made. The lonely Grill would no longer be lonely, but instead live with the Grill Goddess and the two would live happily ever after.

And look! A Big Black Beast of Burden has graced the Grill with His presence and has confirmed the Grill is good. In fact I believe he said, "you can now cook me fish or chicken on it?" And we did. The Grill Goddess allowed MarathonMan one last horrah with his Grill. He was sad, though I don't think we saw a tear in his eye.

I am NOT a boy!

So the Stang went in today to gets its innards cleaned out (aka oil change). Last time the Stang was in for innards cleaning was in December 2008. I hadn't reached the mileage goal they put on that very unattractive sticker on your windshield until this weekend. In case you're not mathy...that's SIX MONTHS....without going 5,000 miles. WHOA!

I drove to my dealership for the cleaning since I really like the service manager there. He so doesn't treat me like a woman. You know the type. They talk to you as if they would rather be talking to your husband. Or worse they sound all patronizing when they explain car stuff to you. Ugh. Anyhow, Mr. Service, as I'll call him, has a memory of an elephant. I've not been in there since December and he remembered I was moving. Who does that? (And yes mom and Her Royal Geekness, I checked and he had a ring on.) Anyhow, Mr. Service jogged out to greet me at my car when I pulled in behind him. Right behind him was his "assistant" I'll call Bubba. Because "Bubba" puts an idea immediately in your brain, most likely, of someone who's not quite playing with a full deck. Bubba has a very glossy look on his face that reminds me of a deer in headlights. Mr. Service has assured me before that Bubba is a gifted mechanic. Right!

I handed over my keys and asked Mr. Service to check the exhaust because it's been rattling when I shift after over accelerating from 1st gear to 2nd...not that I do that too often. Uh huh. And so off I went to sit and wait. Not 2 minutes later Mr. Service comes out to say he has the car up on the wrack and would I like to see underneath my car.

Now, I must have had some kind of goofy, giggly, excited look on my face - and I know I wasn't jumping up and down like a school kid who's getting ice cream for dinner - because Mr. Service said, "You're such a boy." Am not!

Just because a girl gets excited about seeing underneath her car does not a boy make. I'm just sayin'.

So Mr. Service escorted me out to my car. Bubba standing underneath it looking non to bright. The two of them began to show me the brakes, the struts, the exhaust system and how it worked, the suspension, etc. I was in heaven. I can't, of course, tell you anything they said because, well, frankly I really don't care. But I did care to see underneath my car...you never get to see under there.

The Pony is all good to go now. I swear it drives better after the innards get cleaned out and the car washed. It's like a brand new car. Which, BTW, I did wonder over to the lot and drooled on a 2010 the same color as mine - oh and I think I left some drool on the yellow one too. I actually sorta felt like I was "marking" my territory with all my drool.

$1.5M Dollars toward ending breast cancer forever

Today was the Seattle Race for the Cure. Thousands of men, women, children, dogs, and all types showed up to support the local affiliate of Susan G. Komen. It, as it always is, is an incredible experience. So many people sharing the love.

I didn't walk this year. Instead I was photographing the volunteers doing what volunteers do best.... Blueberry and her team walked this year - and sadly they were walking for their friend Rebecca who is no longer with us. - A moment of silence please - *sigh*. I took a couple of shots in the Survivor Breakfast of Blueberry's team the Dancing Dahlias, and I gotta say, I had to choke back a tear without Rebecca being in the mix.

So for several months now, Blueberry has been on the campaign to get a photo of her with Edgar Martinez - form Seattle Designated Hitter and a well loved sports legend in the Northwest. Well today was her day...as was mine. Though she beat me to getting a photo first, she deserves it considering how much she loves this guy. But that doesn't mean I didn't get my chance. The beautiful woman in the photo with pink hair - yes I felt I had to point out which beautiful woman - is Holly, his wife.

All in all it was a good morning. I got some pretty good shots, I think of most the volunteers and a few other photography things. I do think something is seriously wrong with my camera though. I had a great shot set up with a mom and her daughter in a very emotional hug...and my camera stalled.

Oh and Ford is a sponsor of the RFTC and you'll never guess what they had within grasp of my greedy little fingers....a 2010 Mustang. Ford does this Warrior in Pink thing in which they donate $$ for each test drive of the 2010 Mustang. Last year they had an actual Breast Cancer decked out Mustang - which they're not doing this year. But never fear, I did get my photo with the Stang...wiped off my drool after too. And yes, I did try to open the door and see if I could sit in it...but someone was WAY smarter and had it locked up tight.

If you want to see all the other photos I took, I've posted them here.

I closed my eyes, the moment that I surrendered to you.

I have just one word to describe the il Divo concert last night. And it's not the words one would normally think ... adjectives like Fantastic. Or Awesome. Or Glorious. No, the word that comes to mind is a simple 5 letter word....

drool

That's it. Any woman with an ounce of XX chromosomes knows what I say when I say "drool". Its that momentary feeling you get when you see a hot lad and you have to literally check the corners of your mouth to make sure you aren't, in fact, drooling. I took extra napkins with me to the concert just in case.

But my goodness. In fact, PM Goddess said it best when Carlos started singing a song, she said, "it's like dark chocolate." And again any XX reader knows how glorious and luxurious dark chocolate is.

I've been awed in my life by several sites. The site of the Roman Colosseum standing strong after hundred of years. The site of thousands of women and men walking to fight breast cancer. Both rivaled by the il Divo concert.

Now I get some people may not understand the pull, but I gotta tell you, when a foursome's crescendo reaches it's peak, with all 4 voices smooth as glass hits you and pushes you back in your seat...well, it was almost enough to make me find religion.

So in case you didn't get the point yet, they were, quite frankly, one of the best concerts I've seen in my entire life. And yes, even better than Duran Duran and DMQ. I know, right? That's telling you something right there.

Only one song got me a bit teary eyed, okay three, but one where I had to really choke back the tears. Amazing Grace. That song just does me in no matter. I think I want that sang, by il Divo preferable, at my memorial. After said singing, DMQ can come out and y'all can have one bit 80's party on me.

So the other songs they sang that buckled my knees was the Impossible Dream and Mama. They've never actually recorded Impossible Dream, but by the standing ovation they got I suspect they may. Of course, the standing ovation could have been because it was their last song and no one in the audience really wanted it to end.

Even now listening to the crisp tenor and deep baritone singing A Mi Manera (My way), it just gives me chills. (God knows the chills aren't caused by the weather...no it's 92 out right now...ick).


Carlos (said baritone) could still be my husband. He only need to ask. And when he's done talking he is to never talk again. Only sing and look pretty. I see nothing wrong with this engagement. I may have to teach him the "proper" way to speak Spanish. Being that he's Spanish (as in Spain Spanish) he tends to lisp words like caricia (Spanish pronunciation: CAR-E-THEE-A). Ick. (That's the Spaniard in the photo below on the big screen)

Oh hold please, Amazing Grace is on the iTunes. A moment of silence please.

Okay, where was I? Oh yes, I was slobbering over the Spaniard.

Right, so if you get a chance, I highly recommend this group. They are well worth the $. And thankfully the seats we had were, while "cheap seats", fantastic in this particular arena. Granted I would have liked to sit in the $128 seats that were surrounded by the stage, but alas, I need my rich il Divo-ito for something like that.

Oh and the title of the blog comes from a song called "Every time I look at you." and well it made my heart do a little flippy flop because I was certain they were singing to me, section 205 row 7 seat 8.

So with that I leave you with this last thought before I go and get a napkin to clean up the puddle of drool I've left on the keyboard. Life as I know it changed drastically yesterday. I can't really go into it right now, but soon. It's nothing serious. Only goodness (well realistically some pain) can come from it. To quote The Impossible Dream:

This is my quest,
To follow that star --
No matter how hopeless,
No matter how far.

I think I may make this my new Theme song!

Hello my kittens...hope you all had a fantastic weekend. It couldn't have been a nicer weekend in the Pacific NW. Sunshine galore and it allowed for some fun times to be had by all.

Friday found me at home doing my thing. Nothing overly exciting.

Saturday found me at the Rat City Roller derby again. Two bouts, the last being the seasons finals between Socket Wenches and the Derby Liberation Front (DLF). DLF walked away with the title again. BigBro, Wifeypoo, and I enjoyed ourselves tremendously. It's like a People Watcher's Mecca. All types were there. Oh and Chris Ballew from The President's of the United States sang the National Anthem and then did the half time show. He and his family sat right by us and they looked quite normal.

Sunday I was up and out to the beach to shoot a 5K walk / run at Alki. PhotoGirl was organizing this and asked if I'd help out shooting at the turn around. BigBro and I did just that. Wow...it's like drinking from a fire hose when the pack of runners hit us. It was basically just holding down the shutter to get as many photos as we could. It was so sunny so we didn't care. My arm hurt like the dickens though for holding the camera up for so long.

But the big news on Sunday was I walked two miles with no pain. Yes, you read that correctly. I walked a whoppin' two miles (which is really just a joke) but the no pain part is the big deal. AND my feet didn't hurt after - besides just being tired. yay me.

I had intended on heading into Seattle to take pictures of the SGK Fashion show. The Stang had other plans. The stang threw a shoe on the route. Flat tire...blah! After first emptying the contents of my trunk and cursing myself for not cleaning out the trunk, and 45 minutes of doing my darn-d-est to get the lug nuts off, I relented and called Ford Roadside Assistance. 2 hours later I was home. By then I missed the fashion show and was a bit bummed that I had.

Tomorrow...oh...tomorrow night will be the night of all nights for some time. Me and two UK Bloke - ettes are going to see iL Divo. Oh gosh, I drool just typing their name. Yes please, I'll have one of each. And if you haven't seen their video of Amazing Grace...see it now. I get the goosebumps anytime I hear this song anyhow. And God forbid it's bag pipes playing it...I'm a slobbering mess...but these guys...they do it justice.

I am also working on a plan to spend the rest of my life with the Spaniard, Carlos, of the group. He's the one who sings after the bag pipes...and he's just yummy to me...and considering my love affair with Spaniards and how far back it goes...Although Urs from Switzerland will be hard to pass up... Oh and David from the US...all 35 years of him could make the rest of my life a living bliss...and who can then forget Sebastian...he is, after all, French. And French guys...Ooo lala! I just can't decide. Maybe I can have one for each quarter of the year. That seems reasonable to me. And when they aren't with me, they can be with Lead Bloke-ette, the PM Godess.

Oh and just for you Mom - if you're reading this...we upgraded our tickets to have Dinner in the VIP lounge...you think we'll get a visit with these guys? Oh I hope! I hope! I hope!