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.

Flamingo Gone Wild

Oh my goodness, what a night. The flamingo costume was quite the success. I was the talk of the show...A ton of comments from several admirers, some folks wanted the name of my designer and or where they could buy the costume. Whodathunk that the MomUnit could be a famous designer. She's said no to this awesome opportunity due to some blindness issue. Whatever. But here's the gang for last night. Cat = Julie Washburn (a galpal from my Geeksoft days), Me (of course), HikerGirl (Runaway Bride - or whatever people guessed), and Mark and Vanessa Levine (50's couple).

The show was fantastic. This year's top 10 Worst songs were in fact BAD. Unfortunately I can't remember one of the 10, but I assure you it was bad. But the most important thing that you need to know is this Flamingo WON A PRIZE. Yes, that's right my flamingo fans, I won!! I've been going to this show since 1999 and have never won a prize. But then again, I've never dressed up either, which might have something to do with it. But this year, my favorite lead guitarist chose me to win the prize. My prize, why the Lost in Love album by Air Supply. And I think it's only important that you, my dear readers, know that I actually OWNED this album when it first came out. Oh man, I could belt out All out of Love with the best of them. How could Air Supply go out of style? I mean really, just look at those hot boys.

So you wanna know what songs made the top 10? I'll make you wait no more.

The "guest" band this year was The Cure. (Which will explain why they are all in dark wigs in the videos below) I'm not a huge Cure fan so I had no idea who they were when they came out. I recognized the second song they sang Boys Don't Cry, but otherwise I had no idea who they were. But alas, they still were fun and now after watching a Cure video they did a pretty good job of dressing up like them.

Top 10 Worst Songs for 2007

10. 500 Miles - The Proclaimers
9. Sail Away - Styx
8. Rain Drops Keep Falling on my Head - BJ Thomas(by the way, if you check out this video, check out the ears on this guy)
7. Safety Dance - Men Without Hats
6. Sexy Back - Justin Timberlake
Or if you want to see the DMQ boys do it...





5. I'm too Sexy - Right Said Fred
4. Young Girl - Gary Puckett and the Union Gap
3. Mickey - Toni Basil (And for a special treat, this video is with the Solid Gold Dancers. If you don't know who the Solid Gold dancers are....shut it. )

2. Informer - Snow
And the number one worst song:



That's right - Oh Sherry from Journey was the number one song. Hilarious to me. Especially since Blueberry (aka Sherrie) wasn't there at the show and she hates that song, for obvious reasons.


It also seems that several people thought I was Dame Edna. Now, not knowing who that was I needed to google her/him today to see just why people thought this. And I gotta say, wow...I did kinda look like Dame Edna. The end result was I was one kick ass Flamingo and H.O.T. Hot. The bad side of the flamino suit was the heat. Man, it was hot will all those feathers. The beak made it very difficult to drink, so the beak wasn't on for most the night, but I would say it definitely made the costume more obvious.

Eight Random Facts about Me. Moi. Yo.

I rarely do any of the meme's that come my way. Mostly because I generally have other stuff to bore you with. But today is different. It's a quiet day here in the office. Suddenly I find myself in cubeland all alone. Skippy and Pointed Hair boss are off a Geeksoft. PMDude is off on vacation today. Creed is ... well who knows where Creed is. And so I find I have a few minutes to spare for you ... my favorite reader.

1. I have an 8ball Vista gadget on my desktop. I use it daily to make critical Proj Mgmt decisions. That and I use it in conjunction with PMDude's Magic 8 Ball on his desk to make critical determination about how cool or uncool Skippy is.

2. I have a knack (some might call it an annoyance) of getting weird random songs stuck in my head. 9 times out of 10 I have no idea how they get there. There is that one rare time that I see something like a dog poster and suddenly "How Much is that Doggy in the Window" pops into my head. Immediately I try to change the topic and that's how "What's New Pussy Cat" gets stuck. Really, it does make sense in the Land of Jenn.

3. I like pens. For some reason, I have this need to have several pens around me. I buy pens all the time. As I am choosing my new pens I am sure they are going to make my handwriting like it was in the day I used to actually write things (read: back in college). Now, sitting at my desk, I count 10 pens in my pen cup. Who needs 10 pens? And since I've been at work today I've used 3 of those 10.

4. I have a ton of shoes and yet seem to wear the same two pair almost all the time. In the shoe closet the shoes are broken out into categories: Summer, FancyPants shoes, No More than 2 hour shoes (and preferable 2 hours of sitting), everyday shoes, shoes I'll never wear again, and a few pairs of tennis shoes. I go through my shoe closet on a regular basis with the intent of getting rid of a few pairs, especially the No More Than 2 Hour shoes (I think only the female readers of this blog get what that's about), and yet I can't part with them.

5. I loathe this time of year when elections are looming. I hate political commercials, and I hate all the political mud slinging that goes on with it. I get so tired of the He said/she said crap that I frequently don't want to vote at all. I, however, do vote because I'm convinced my vote does still count. I am going to start NOT voting for people who are currently in office in the great state of Washington, because they all SUCK.

6. I have a somewhat irrational fear of death. I say "somewhat" irrational because I think there are a lot of people afraid of dying. I have had moments when I think about how little time I might have left on this earth and I get all panicky about it. The good side is it forces me to make sure I'm living each day. The negative is I HATE that panic feeling.

7. I get addicted to TV series. For example, a recommendation came in to me to watch Gilmore Girls. I put them in my Netflix and then spent the next several weeks, freakishly, watching all the seasons. I did it with Angel, Buffy, Six Feet Under and a few others. I see that my addictive personality takes over and I can't wait to get through the series. Just finished Supernatural last night (though admittedly I had been watching it during the season).

8. I can't wink both my eyes separately. While I can roll my tongue (not a useful trick at all), I can't for the life of me, wink both my eyes separately. It drives me batty when people can and I try so hard, but can't. My mind's eye isn't apparently attached to my right eye as it won't allow it to wink separately. It's a defect. And I'd like my money back now.

There...took me 3 hours to think of 8 things, but I did it. If you feel so inclined to do this meme please do. The big news is, of course, tomorrow night is the big night. DMQ Spooktacular. So stayed tune for the top 10 worst songs. The fear factor of the top 100 is not just how many I actually know, but how many are on my iPod.

OOps I did it again...

It has been pointed out to me by a few of my loyal readers that I've been somewhat remiss in posting. I assure you it's not because I don't love you all individually and uniquely (which kinda makes me sound slutish) but more because I have nothing to say. Life, as I know it, has been somewhat uneventful of late and therefore nothing noteworthy to blog about.

I can "warn" you however that Saturday will be the great unveiling of the Greatest Flamingo Costume inthe world!!!

The crowd will gasp and applaud at the imagination, sweat, torment and pride that went into creating such an outfit. The band will surely award me the "Best Flamingo/Dudley Fan Ever" award. I mean really, what band wouldn't want a Flamingo as a groupie? The men will flock to me (get it? flock? Birds flock. Come on. That's funny!). If they can get past the feathers they will meet the gem that lies beneath...moi! If they're allergic to feathers, best they move on.

And less you forget, the Top 100 Worst songs are being counted down here. I warn you though, they are catchy little tunes that do cause Stuck Song Syndrome (or SSS as it were). My current SSS is the Macarena.

Da le tu cuerpo
Alegria Macarena. que tu cuerpo es para alegria cosa buena.. Heeeeyyy Marcarena.

When I dance they call me Marcarena
And the boys they say cosa buena...
They all want me / they can't have me

I'm a Happy Girl

I’ve got absolutely nothing to write about. Nothing. Nada. Zero. Zip. But you know I can’t not write anything…so I’m taking a chapter out of Patron’s Saint’s blog and writing a list of what makes me happy for today.

1. Well, the obvious, its Friday. And not a moment too soon either. It’s been a super long week for some reason, especially at work. Skippy, I believe, is causing me to not be as productive as normal. Being that he talks non stop, and feels the need to provide commentary on everything he’s doing and anything that’s happening around him even if he’s not immediately involved. For example, I was having a work related, fairly detailed conversation with a colleague, TechGuy, and Skippy bounces over (I can’t get this image of Odie from Garfield and that stupid ass look on his face out of my head every time I say Skippy) and says, “So what do you use to shave your head?” Um, right. Because that question is clearly obvious when two people are talking about a work related issue that YOU are not involved in. Whatever. I’m still happy it’s Friday. Two days without Skippy.

2. ChexMix kicks ass. I bought some for my scrapbooking party on last Sunday and barely anyone touched it. So I brought it to work and have nibbled on it all week. Here’s the thing though, I’m not a big fan of all the stuff they put into ChexMix. In fact, I really only like the “chex” part of the “mix”. I might accidentally on purpose eat a pretzel, but the other little viddles I despise. They end up being tossed. A part of me thinks I can pick through and leave the viddles for the others at work. But the “picking through” part grosses me out and so I don’t think its appropriate to even for work people (who generally eat anything).

3. I am 88% done scanning heritage photos. Whew! I got this suitcase of photos from a cousin and I promised I’d have them scanned in by the end of August. What? October / August ..they both sound the same. Anyhow, I’ve had a blast scanning in and recording these photos. I’ve set up an excel spreadsheet that corresponds with lots I’ve put the photos in. So as they scan, I record who/what and when if its obvious or if it’s on the back of the photo. Did no one write on the back of photos back then? Come on people…record your life on the back of the photos. But do it safely with an archival safe pen/pencil.

4. Mustang Saleen. There’s a new Mustang Saleen parked in the garage downstairs. PMDude and I went down earlier this week to oogle and aggle over it. I’ve been down once to “visit” it. I think I may have to start parking down there just to see it. Maybe my car and that car can hook up and have little baby Saleens. Is thinking about car p0rn weird?

5. Dammit. I forgot what five was.

6. Heroes. Oh. My. God. Have you been watching it? This is going to be one helluva season. I watched it last night and wish it was a book so I could flip to the last chapter and see what happens. If I were a Hero I’d want that to be my ability.

7. Dudley Top Ten Worst songs are counting down. The “show” and the Flamingo costume happen next Saturday. (BTW – A British colleague of mine used the term “flamingoed”. When I asked him about it he said it’s when you utterly and totally F something up. I might have a new term to use). Anyhow, the songs this year I’ve been sharing with PMDude and forcing him to take a walk down memory lane. Though his memory lane is a bit shorter than mine in that he’s a wee bit younger. But the great part about it is the blog has videos so even you can enjoy.

That should be enough for now and I should probably get back to work and earn a living.

My Pumkin is missing it's innards

Officially, the pumpkin carving party was an enormous success, in my humble opinion anyway. And I base this opinion on several factors.

1. No food remaining after the event. That's right. They ate my out of house and home. Now, anyone who knows Wraspir's well know that we tend to cook for small armies. Therefore, it's almost always guaranteed that we'll have several days of leftovers after a meal. Not so in this case. The menu: Balsamic marinade flank steak, Swiss Potatoes, Sugar glazed carrots, Warm Bacon vinaigrette salad, and apple crisp for dessert. I planned for 10 people. 9 showed up and had two very small slices of steak left and a small sliver of apple. Had I let them, they might have licked the bowls.

2. 9 pumpkins carved and looking every so stylish. This year we had a special guest show up to the pumpkin carving; Baby. That's right. At last year's event, Claudia took all the pumpkin guts and tossed them in her garden. Out of it grew "Baby". Pictured in the middle and who remained uncarved. We just couldn't do it. Megan got the "Fancy Pants Carving" Award fro most creative (bottom row, next to the Seahawk). Claudia's pumpkin - the one that looks like it has pitch forks in it - is really a replica of the tablecloth iron fence around the graveyard. Very creative. Most non original is mine I would say. I'm a traditionalist, what can I say. Two triangle eyes, one triangle nose and a goofy snaggle tooth smile (pictured above to the right of Baby). Oh and we got extra crazy this year and put candles in them. OOOO...spooky.

A special note to Claudia for bringing her "tool" to the party. Without your battery operated little gadget we wouldn't have been as satisfied with the outcome as we were. What? You perverts, I'm taking about a battery operated little cutter/saw thingymabob. Ultimatey it was useless, but it sure amused us for several minutes, and prompted very off color jokes throughout the night. Ahhh Good times.

3. New contenders. We had some new contenders this year. HikerGirl has not ever participated in a pumpkin carving event, but has participated in past holiday events and so was well aware of how far out I go for some events. Claudia brought a friend to experience the event and I'm not 100% sure he doesn't think we're all insane. Brought his sarcastic witty game and fit right in. From Left to right: Mark, Vanessa, Mike, Nancy, Claudia, Chris, HikerGirl, Megan, me and Pookie (who made an appearance long enough to spout off something in cat and then went back to his nap).

4. I was pooped the day after. I can always tell when I've had a fun party because I'm usually 1) hung over the day after, 2) hung over and pooped, or 3) just pooped. I was three this time. Sadly didn't hardly drink at all during the event. But alas, I got to do the dishes. Oh boy.

38, 24, 2

No not my high school locker combination. But all my birthday ages. Yes, I have three birthdays. Don’t you?

38 is my actual age. I’m not happy about being 38 and less happy about being 39 in a couple of months. And don’t even get me started on the 40 that’s coming. I’ve not even begun to save for DMQ to play at my party of 1 + 5 band boys. OOO la la….

Ahem….

24 is the number of years old I am according to my dad. He adopted me 25 years ago (if you ask him he only married mom because he wanted me as his daughter). Every year after the adoption we celebrate my “birthday”. Every year I get a gift. My first year I got diapers, a bib and a sippy cup. Last year this kick ass, beautiful teddy bear.

And 2. Two would be the number of years, officially today, that I’ve had a blog. TWO FREAKIN YEARS. When I look back to starting the blog, I was sure I’d not have anything to ever say. And here I am 2 years later spouting off still. In that two years, we’ve seen the blog grow from … well… it really hasn’t grown. It’s still the same drivel it’s always been. And I can’t even say its more mature. My blog. My rules (Courtesy of Patron Saint) has been my motto.

I decided to google to find out what “anniversary” this would be, and according to the interweb it’s the Cotton anniversary (too bad it’s not the wood one. I can think of so many jokes for wood). Cotton has also been known as a symbol of great prosperity. Maybe this means my third year will be prosperous. Or my second year was and I missed it. Dagnabit!

Two years ago I was still working at the Cat Shack and hating every minute. Now I’m loving my job, despite Skippy joining the team. Thank god I have PMDude here to keep me sane

Two years ago I was still single. I’m still single, but more okay with it. And happier in my own skin then ever before.

Two years ago I was driving a VW GTI. Now I’m driving the stang…oooo aaaaahhhhh

Some Blog stats for those who like such things: 431 posts / 26,031 hits in two years.

As I reread some of my blog entries I’m struck with this notion that my life is an open book. Whether it’s a good book or bad, I don’t know. I like where it is now and like the fact that I am writing more and more chapters each day – in my life book that is. Well, and the blog. But you get what I mean.

Speaking of chapters, a lot on tap for this weekend.

Tonight is massage night with Chicken Lady. She celebrated a birthday yesterday so a big shout out to her. Happy Birthday Chicken Lady! You don’t look a day over 29.

Saturday night is the annual Pumpkin Carving party. Last year’s party I had a bit of a hangover due to the large amounts of wine I consumed. This year, more people will be attending AND I’m making some Halloween Cocktails that will surely kick my butt into a hangover. The menu this year, I believe, is top shelf. Balsamic marinade flank steak, Swiss potatoes (a take on au gratin potatoes but better), Warm bacon vinaigrette spinach salad, Sugar glazed roasted carrots and Mom’s famous Apple Crisp (once I get the recipe). Mmmm, I’m hungry now.

Sunday is an all day scrapping party at my house. It’s fall. The weather is changing, which means activities come indoors. So why not do a little scrapbooking. I’ll be working mostly on my Christmas cards. I already have all the envelops addressed and ready to go. I have 1.5 of the card stuff ready to go … Now I just need the time. Sunday is the day. Though if the mood strikes me I might work on *gasp* the UK trip. Or *gasp* the DC trip. Hard to say what I will fancy. I do know I’ll be making Spaghetti and Meatball Stoup.

Whatever happened to Honey?

So the boys at DMQ are counting down the top 100 songs and it so happened that Honey by Bobby Goldsborro came in at #49. If Blueberry read my blog she'd spit her water out right about now.

See in college, we had what you youngsters might not have heard of, cassette tapes. Frequently when taping to a cassette tape it was hard to plan the end ing just right so not to have too much room and not to cut off a song.

Well, I cut off Honey in the middle of the song.Blueberry and I joked that we would never know what happened to Honey. Well, thanks to the boys at DMQ we now do.

Be sure to watch the video. It's hilarious with regards to how the artist incorporated the song with the action figures. And if it gets stuck in your head for the rest of the day. I apologize.

But Honey I miss you.

Papa’s Got a brand new hat. Or is it Mama’s got a brand new dress?

Either way… the Stang has new clothes.

Yes sir and it looks H.O.T. HAUGHTTTT! I drooled a little at the site of her sitting in the parking lot after being fitted with the new look. Okay, I slobbered. All I did was get the windows tinted and it’s amazing how much more of a rockin’ car it appears. Even PMDude said it was sick. Or is that sic?

Here’s something I bet you didn’t know. Tinting of one’s windows is directly correlated with an increase of one’s speed. It’s true. I’m living proof. Since the tinting of the windows, I apparently believe I’m invisible. As if the tinting is some type of cloaking device. When I was picking the shade of darkness, I chose one level higher than legal. I asked the worker bee if he’s ever heard of anyone getting pulled over for too dark of windows. He said that I would be more likely to get pulled over for speeding. Me thinks he knew of this transformation and did not include it in his instructions of care for the new windows.

The other connection that tinting of windows has is with the volume of the stereo. For some reason, it plays louder now. Maybe it’s because I can sing louder and no one will see me singing at all, regardless of how loud it is. It hasn’t, however, had any connection on the music getting better. No, it’s still relatively bad music. It’s just louder.

I’ve been lax in a few other important items to discuss.

1. It’s Breast Cancer Awareness Month – thus the pink blog. It has nothing to do with the flamingo costume. Which had something new added to it yesterday. A beak.

2. Directly connected to the beak and costume is the top 10 worst song countdown. DMQ has a blog this year in which they are counting down the songs. PMDude BEGGED me to post this song to my blog - I think it's his new favorite song. But I just couldn’t put all the other readers through it. Instead I’ll just provide this link.

AND as if this isn't enough blogging...I got a shout out from my favorite photographer (Fall Projects - Plus, a Nice Rave). I discussed Leslie's work in a previous post. And she blogged her name and found my post. Consequently posting my comments to her on her site. When she becomes famous, I too will be famous. I'm sure of it.

Hi.

Remember me?

I'm your friendly, neighborhood, pink wig wearing, flamingo toting blogger.

I've been back in Seattle since LATE Tuesday night and can't help but feel I've been in a whirlwind of activity, and yet don't feel like I've accomplished a darn thing.

I was greeted, as expected, by a very vocal, and not too happy cat who had more than enough to tell me Tuesday night (read: Early Wednesday morning like 2AM). He didn't stop for almost 45 minutes. And I think he only stopped because I duct taped his mouth. Okay, I didn't. But I thought about it and even looked for tape.

I'm still trying to unbury myself at work. I at least have read all the emails and am EVER so thankful to a few PM type folks who did some of my work whilst (that's British for while) I was gone. I've been handed a few more projects and two more events to plan. Oh goody!

While I was a way, a new member joined our illustrious team here. PMDude and I have already named him. Well, PMDude named him whilst I was gone, and I seconded it upon my return. Skippy. Yes, his name is Skippy. He's a young buck who seems to think he knows everything. PMDude and I met with him yesterday to discuss what we, the PMs, do and how we, the PMs, would work with him. I'm sure he learned nothing because he couldn't keep his trap shut long enough to actually listen to what we were saying. Skippy also has this annoying habit of talking...All. The. Time. He possesses no filter that stops his mouth from saying what crosses his mind. He's dropped f-bombs and complained about his "stupid computer" (which by the way is a brand new laptop). It just goes on and on on.

I'm telling you about Skippy, or rather warn you, because the pot is boiling. It will take every ounce of my being to not squish his little Know It All Pea brain between my experienced PM fingers. Its just a matter of time before Skippy goes too far and I will be forced then to be very unlady like. It won't be pretty. So stay tuned.

In other, and in my opinion, more important news, I fell asleep last night trying to make up a limerick about my flamingo costume. The MomUnit finished it, is blind because of it, and brought it to DC at which time I tried it on immediately upon entering the hotel room. It's hot. H.O.T. Hot. No I mean, it's going to be really warm. So with the poncho o'feathers as I call it, my flamingo ensemble is complete. I'll try to put it all together and take a photo this weekend.

Speaking of photos, all DC photos will be processed and posted to flickr this weekend too. I have ot fit that around catching up on all the damn TV I've taped, two dates with FrogBoy1, meeting up with HikerGirl, potentially meeting up with another old friend, cleaning the apt, AND doing my WIP reports for work. There just isn't enough weekend here...I think I need 4 days.

The Stang goes in today to be beautified. It's getting beautiful hightlights on its windows. Or as some call it, tinting. (I got beautiful highlights last night at the salon ... ). Can't wait to have tinted windows. I can make faces at passing people and they won't even know. Or sing and they won't think I'm crazy. Yay.

Have a good weekend all my avid readers - Toodles

Not To Be Forgotten

My vacation is winding down and I have to say I need to go home to get rest. I can't believe how much we've walked. The Metro is about a quarter of a mile, and we've been walking it several times a day. The weather has been sensational. Its said it's high 70's but I swear it feels like mid 80s. Sunny, humid and beautiful.

Today we took a somber approach to our day and visited Arlington Cemetery. You can't even put into words or photos how amazing and how moving it is. Approximately 300,000 military personnel are buried here. The rows and rows of marble head stones is truly a sight to see. We learned something today too. We learned each headstone is 250 lbs each. And they are as much below the earth as they are above the earth.

We also got a chance to see a ceremony that's taken place since 1921. The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. It was a magical and very thought provoking ceremony. The military men who guard the tomb are truly exceptional too. They go through a rigorous process to get the honor of guarding the tomb. It's a 2 year commitment and has rules they have to follow for the rest of their lives.

I leave tomorrow, but before I do we're going to head to the Capital building. We realized we haven't actually seen it from the front. We also haven't seen a few other historical buildings in the Mall area. The MomUnit and SLSIL want to go to another museum. So why they are in a museum, I'll be wondering the Mall area again. So stay tuned.