Wednesday, February 13, 2019

If Only I Had Known

Last week, my supervisor at Day Job took a vacation to visit family down south. To welcome her back to the office this week, we staged a small prank in her office...

...that's 220 large balloons.

It took me and two of my co-workers about an hour and a half to accomplish, which, is amazing, because 220 large balloons. How did we manage such a feat?

This little gizmo right here...

Seventeen bucks at the Hellmouth!

As an aside, how the hell did I manage to make it through four years on the Booster Club without this?! When I think of how much easier decorating for the Senior Sports Banquets, football dinners, basketball dinners, and Homecoming celebrations would have been with this little machine, my head explodes.

Why, oh, why is hindsight 20/20?

Anyhoodle, the prank was a total success; my supervisor felt incredibly special, and, was secure in the knowledge that she had been missed and was welcomed back to the office with open arms.

My co-workers and I got to set aside work for an hour and a half, and, when it came time to clean up our mess; we got to take out our aggression with scissors and repeated stabbing motions. Not very many people can say that about their office environment.

They should totally list it in the benefits section of the company handbook.

Monday, February 11, 2019

All That Was Missing Was a Blue Ox

This weekend, I broke out of my comfort zone and attended an event with actual people. I know, crazy, right? Lately, I've been spending all my weekends cocooned in the comfort of my home with essential oils diffusing, Netflix on demand, wearing a constant rotation of comfy pj's with nary another human in sight, so, venturing out into public came as a bit of a shock to me, too.

It was for a good cause; I attended a baby shower for Mama Jill's daughter, Beth. She and her husband are expecting their first little lumberjack in April, and, since I have been at every other important event of their relationship (hello! Photographed the wedding!), I could not miss out on this celebration.

I also got to spend time with Mama Jill, which hasn't happened nearly enough lately, either, so; it was a great day to bust out of my rut.

The shower, it must be noted, was adorable; I wasn't kidding when I said the happy couple is expecting a little lumberjack, at least, that is what the decor would lead us to believe...

And, guess who gets to be among the first to meet the little guy when he makes his debut? That's right! This girl! Beth and her husband have asked me to be in the delivery room to photograph the labor and their first moments with their new son. I'm so honored! And, slightly nervous at the prospect of being in the room during the delivery, but, that's what we do for our friends.

Unless it involves body fluids...I draw the line at secretions.

Anyhoodle, it was a great way to spend the day, and, I still made it home in plenty of time to cozy up on the couch with a mug of herbal tea and my softest jammies.


Saturday, February 09, 2019

The Sour Milk of Documentaries

Alternate title: The One in Which I Don't Mention a  Death...

...yeah, it's been a long week. Happily, as of right now, I am unaware of any more sad passings within my family or "friend family" (framily, if you will, although, Websters would beg to differ); fingers crossed for that to remain true for a very, very long time.

Instead, today, I want to talk about a show that was recently recommended to me by Co-Worker Erin. I knew I had to watch it when she prefaced her recommendation with "Oh, my God! This show was so disturbing! I was literally throwing things at the television and screaming at the stupidity of people! YOU SHOULD TOTALLY WATCH IT!".

So, I did, and, people? This show is so disturbing! I literally asked myself "What the fuck are these people thinking?" nine hundred times.

So, of course I immediately started telling everyone I know to watch it, and, of course I led with "This show is soooo disturbing! You should totally watch it!". Which, is why I am now likening the show to sour milk, because, we all do it; we go to the fridge, sniff the milk, shove it toward our loves ones and say "Oh my god, this milk smells disgusting! SMELL it!", and, they do.

It's human nature.

So, yeah, if you are looking for something to watch....this show is so disturbing! You should totally watch it!

It's on Netflix; you're welcome.

 Also, the next time someone shoves a gallon of milk under your nose while exclaiming about it's rankness, I totally challenge you to refuse.

Friday, February 08, 2019

This Girl

Yesterday, I attended a memorial service for Jana's dad, Papa Pete. Pete passed away on January 31st, missing his 67th birthday by just four days.

The service was beautiful, and, I know Pete would have been pleased. He would have been especially pleased by the amazing tribute that Jana and her brother paid to him in song. Over the years, I've heard Jana sing in a variety of settings- in the car, on the boat, or, whenever the spirit moved her (often on Porch Night, and, with the aid of a glass of wine)-but, to hear her and Phil sing through tears, for the sole purpose of sending their father off in style, was to hear the sound of angels singing. They. Were. AMAZING. The strength that they showed was beyond comprehension, and, Jana's sweet soprano carried through the church with such power and emotion, it brought the congregation to tears.

I love this human being and I am so incredibly fortunate to call her my friend.

Photo circa 2008, toasting on the shores of the Great Salt Lake

She's now a member of a club that no one really ever wants to belong to, and, as a somewhat seasoned member, myself, I'll make it my mission to support and comfort her.

I also called dibs on her voice for my own funeral, but she said, and I quote "Oh, hell no", and, in the house of God, too, by the way. But, I'm sure He forgave her for that.

Wednesday, February 06, 2019

A Rose by Any Other Name...Would Never Be as Sweet

A number of years ago, I wrote a post about my Aunt Rose. At the time, she was in remission from the cancer that would inevitably claim her life; she was also on a quest to complete her personal Bucket List, and, we were fortunate to witness her accomplish two of those goals.

She rode a horse for the first time in her life.

And she rode a Harley.

We were well aware that our time with her was finite, and, we told ourselves that we had come to terms with the inevitable loss, but, when that loss came earlier this week, I don’t think we were as prepared as we may have believed.

She went on her own terms, and, she went peacefully. I have no doubt that her welcoming party at the Heavenly gates included my grandparents, her husband, her oldest daughter, and both of her brothers; I have no doubt that there was rejoicing.

Back here on Earth, there is also rejoicing-for a life well lived, a release from pain, for the love she left behind. There is also sadness, and emptiness, and healing to be done.

I think I’ve mentioned here before, how very blessed I am to have had the large, boisterous, affectionate, strong, loyal, and courageous extended family that I have; if not, then I am mentioning it now. Growing up under the watchful eye of a large Catholic family was a blessing, and I am saddened by the loss of a huge piece of that family.

Aunt Rose was mild, kind, loving, sweet, and, at the most unexpected times, incredibly funny. I’ll miss her steady presence and her beautiful smile, and, I will be forever thankful for the part she played in this amazing family.

Saturday, February 02, 2019

Ah, February, We Meet Again

Longtime readers of this blog know that I have a complicated love/hate relationship with February. I love it because it is the birth month of my eldest and because it is the final month of winter. I hate it because still winter.

While only containing 28 days vs. 30 or 31, February often feels like the longest month of the year for me; I crave longer days, sunshine, warmer temperatures, sultry nights on the porch, and water (preferably, not in the form of snow), and, feel like February is simply standing in the way of Spring.

Which, I know is ridiculous, and, I own that.

Today is Groundhog Day, and, for only the eighteenth time in 131 years, that damn rodent has predicted an early spring. I am only cautiously optimistic about this turn of events, because, I would not put it past Mother Nature and Old Man Winter to pull a fast one on that oversized rat; most predictably, summoning up a blizzard of epic proportions on March 1st, just as Hugh, the girls, and I are making our way over mountain passes to get to the airport for our flight to Hawaii.

I am crossing my fingers, saying prayers, offering sacrifices (I am foregoing carbs and cheese for the month, in order to fit in my bikini. Hey, it's still a sacrifice!), and generally begging the universe to not let that happen, because, if I can make it through February, I freaking deserve a tropical vacation, damnit.

So, welcome February. Let's get this show on the road.

Thursday, January 31, 2019

The Long-Anticipated Return of Exercise-Induced Tourettes Syndrome

This past Tuesday, I again attended candlelight yoga, and, it is only just today that I can move without an uncontrollable stream of expletives erupting, unbidden, from my tongue.

I almost feel sorry for my office mates, but, then I remember that I declared our office an Expletive Safe Zone, and, the feeling goes away.

So, why so sore? Because the awesome, amazing, clearly masochistic yoga instructor introduced a new pose to our practice, something called Baby Grasshopper, which, requires one to basically levitate from the floor.

Think I'm kidding? Umm, no...

Come to find out, my levitation skills? Sub-par.

I am seriously reconsidering my dedication to this practice. Except, I just laid down cold hard cash for a membership to the yoga studio, so, unless I want to throw away good money, I guess I’ll be honing up on my levitation skills.

Or, strengthening my arms, legs, and core, and gaining the balance required to nail The Grasshopper.

Levitation actually sounds more attainable.