Live to work/work to live

Perspectives.

Often I need to come in well before sunrise because work demands it.  Often, as well, I forget the benefits of coming in crack-o-dawn.

I've noticed over the years that our normal office staff tends to come in grumpy.  It's not because they're here that early -- I'm often here earlier.  I think it's more a cultural thing.

First off let me say this:  1) this is not a commentary on race nor is it racist  2) this is not a commentary on the legality of workers from other countries - I check them fairly thoroughly  3) race will be mentioned just as a defining term.

I come in early and usually reasonably happy.  I am the minority in our mono-chromatic office staff.  Yes we're all white.  I am white as well so the difference being I don't come to work grumpy and out-of-sorts.

For the most part though, our field employees are Hispanic -- or Latino if you prefer.  They're from Jamaica, Honduras, El Salvador, Mexico, and yes even a couple from South Africa (who prefer the term black - they're very sweet about it though).

What they have in common with each other -- and NOT in common with the office staff is not only a difference in race but rather a difference in attitude both toward work and toward life.

When I'm here crack-o-OMG-dawn, I hear laughs, smiles, friendly greetings, sometimes singing.  From the rest of my office staff?  nope they're not here and when they get in a cheerful Good Morning will get you a grunt if you're fortunate.  No these are my field staff.  They smile.  They laugh.  They're friendly, vivacious, happy to be here:

Happy to be alive to see another day.

I love them.  They love me. They love to chat. They love to laugh.  They love the sunrise.  They love the pre-sunrise, whether they're just coming in or they've worked all night -- doesn't matter ....

They Are Happy.

Why can't we embrace each day with the same enthusiasm?  Just damned happy to be alive for another sunrise?

the photo above is from Rehoboth 2009.  Obviously I am a morning person and dawn and pre-dawn are my favorite parts of the day.  They're made even better when I have a happy person to enjoy the morning with.

Sometimes you just gotta keep paddling

...and sometimes you throw in the towel and float.

Harold informed me that too many changes at once, while ambitious, is driving him bonkers.  Yeah I could see that.

I caved this weekend and procured my favorite crutch:  nicotine.

Yes it's an ugly monkey.  It's a monkey that quite frankly embarrasses me in public and isn't really socially acceptable anymore.  I get that.

I also get that a psychotic break isn't acceptable either.  No I wasn't that far, just distracted, unfocused, and frankly just not dealing.

We shall try again when work slows a bit this winter because (as Harold reminded me) only when we fail to try are we truly failing.

...and now on to your regularly scheduled programming.  I've hid from work long enough this morning :)

the photo above came from NCRF 2005 I believe, I didn't write the date on it buggers.  I love ducks and there was such a lovely pond there, that I simply could not resist.

Sitting coffee in hand/cats at my feet

...and wondering why I'm not at the beach, not outside, not enjoying the sunshine.

Oh yes, that would be because I'm working from home this weekend.  Oh the joy - no please stop me now.

I had an interesting conversation with our HR director a few weeks ago.  Her father aka the owner/president of the company, frowns on us worker bees taking work home over the weekend.  He feels that we should all have weekends off and take a full week vacation (or two as the seniority dictates) each year.  Kate and I talked about how that's just not the way it works anymore.

The era of taking the family off for two weeks, no work, no phone calls, no emails, has sadly left us.

No I don't exactly *have* to work from home, kitties at my feet, coffee happily being consumed (decaf as it is).  I *could* go in at 4 a.m. and put in 12 hour days for 5 days.  For one who is scheduled a mere 40 hours a week, as as salary paid exactly that (and as backup HR, I know the overtime laws - I am definitely non-exempt), putting in 60 isn't always the best move.  Sometimes I'd rather be with hubby though currently that involves something Jackie Chan playing on the tele only barely audible over his snores.

Still, home is more comfortable.  I can sit braless in my favorite tank top and shorts.  I'm also doing laundry (watch her multi-task folks) and obviously at the moment I'm taking a break because it was either this or listen to Harold try to convince me that the journal entries would be *much* more fun with a couple of glasses of chardonnay.

There's a reason why most accountants can't drink on the job, good at numbers though we may be.

So here I sit, trying to convince myself that getting my work done equals sleeping IN til 4 instead of opening the doors at 4.

So here I sit wondering just how I could work from the beach.  It's probably possible, but those pesky margaritas ... probably safest to stick to coffee, snoring husband and purring kitties.

that photo is from Rehoboth from last year.  Whenever we go to the beach either it's too cold, too rough, or somebody doesn't feel well.  I love the ocean.  However, with my eyesight, it doesn't love me without a keeper.  Still, to fall asleep to the sound of the waves is a joy unparallelled.

The things that change - or don't

Sometimes my days feel just like this squirrel - hanging on and trying to blend in.

As I sit waiting for my General Tsao Tofu to cool and hoping that my wine doesn't get warm in exhange, I have to think again about the whirl-bout this life of mine has taken.

I do a lot of Live Journal as part of a Parkinson's Filter.  Not to hide, but rather to protect the feelings of my lovely and quite guiltridden husband who feels I got the short end of the stick in this marriage.

No - if anyone got the short end it was him when he threw caution into the winds and chose me.  All I can say in my behalf is at least I'm adaptable.

I wonder if Mom's first husband will call this weekend in a desperate attempt to keep her alive while speaking with me.  Much like me, he is not only without Mom but also apparently quite alone.  Being a surrogate nearly-everything from Grandmother to caregiver to sister, I find myself in the role as surrogate daughter.  Odd legacy that Mom (still known in many parts as The Wild Granny) has left me.  Diamond earrings and a first husband who never attained closure.

I wonder if I will hear from my wayward youngest child who still has yet to accept responsibilities for his actions.  When I put up the hard-line, he chose a geographical cure and moved with his father.  His father, not being one to deal with angst well, gave in and now wayward child has decamped on yet another geographical cure.  Little does he realize that I only wish him well and happy.  Perhaps one day, he will.

I wonder if I will find an impromptu party has cropped up next door with my resident drag-queens (their choice of title) and if it's a slumber party like last years blizzard was...and if so, if I need to find more appropriate slumber gear as to not be underdressed with my lack of sequins and fringe.

I wonder most of all how I will ever find the patience to keep going though somehow it happens.  Somehow the sun returns each morning and the sun leaves each evening.  As such, I shall continue.


I took the photo above in summer 2007 in Washington DC.  Don't pet the squirrels -- they're bold brave creatures who are not above biting if the hand they investigate holds nothing but a camera.

A-Z

A-Z.  Opposites.

I work with a lot of As.  A LOT of As.  The As are fond of reading me the latest political scandal with a healthy dose of  "well you know what that means don't you"?

No really what does that mean?  Well it means [insert conjecture taken] which will mean [insert bad thing that could happen].

Really?  Cite Your Source.

Actually Cite Your Source has gotten me in corporate hot water before.  When I was asked if I saw hearing on [insert hearings] I said yes because I had.  Then I was told "well according to [insert famous/infamous radio talk show personality] that [person speaking at hearings] was acting like that because he deliberately didn't take his medicine so he'd look bad.

Really?  interesting.  Person in question has Parkinsons.  As a spouse of someone with that debilitating illness, I'm fairly aware of the effects of the drugs - dyskinesia. (though I can't spell it obviously - I know the effects).  When I brought this information to the person self-appointed to educate me, he had nothing.  Obviously - because the Parkinson's Medication actually causes the effects you're attributing to not taking it.

Disinformation.  I hate that.  Then of course it was if [person speaking at hearings] gets his way then [insert bad thing that could happen] and [insert more bad things] and [OMG the boogey man].

Should.  Could.  Bad Thing.  Or Else.  Because.

These are words/phrases we use to control children.  They're not quantifiable, which gives them their power.

Because why.  Because I said so.  Because that's what [insert person of prominence/importance] said.

Cite your sources.  Not out of context, not from a YouTube video, not second hand.

Yet we find ourselves bound by these very things.  The fear that Else (or Elsewhere in the case of The Giver) brings.  And in that fear, we give up our control to another person.  Who is to say that other person is brighter, smarter, more educated that we are?  I think I proved above that no matter how famous/infamous you are, there's a risk that I know more.  Now there's a scary thought.

Until we open the closet door and expose the boogeyman to be nothing more than clothes on hangers and shoes on the floor, until we stand and say "Because WHAT?", we're like frightened children cowering in the dark, helpless to do anything but go to the person in power for guidance.

I am not an A.  Nor am I a Z.  I most closely resemble an R (though I suspect Harold is more of a V), and I am so tired of having what I believe, think, decide to be handed down like so much pablum being fed to infants.

All I want is Truth Justice and the American Way

without the cape of course - we all remember what happened to Metaman and Thunderhead.  Why?  because Edna told us - didn't you know?


**the photo taken above is of Jake - a lovely cat we were fortunate to foster for 3 years until the end of his life.  That is his 'church lady' look - or more appropriately, Jake the Skeptic.  Would that we all viewed life with a little more Jake.

Y!360 Flashback - Letter to My Younger Self

this post was originally written on Yahoo 360, 11/21/06

Stephanie,

I know you won't pay a lick of attention to this because let's face it, at 18 you think you know everything. What you don't realize is the world is ahead of you and if you just think it through you'll find there are so many more options than you see now.

I probably should tell you that sometime in January 83 (the date escapes me now) whatever rather haphazard birth control you're using will fail and yes the doctors have been wrong all this time. It is NOT the end of the world and so many people want to support whatever decisions you make. These people are not the ones screaming at you that you're ruining their life - these are the people who do truly love you. MARRIAGE IS A CHOICE !!!! When you're so very ill in mid summer you do not have to turn to someone who lives their life in a bottle. Other family members are there but they don't know how to approach you. You've always been so very brittle about accepting help.

What you don't realize in your fear, knowing that the father is an alcoholic who's family despises you and who you find you trust less and less, what you need to remember, is this little guy who will be appearing in your life in November will be the most important person in your life. Don't worry about keeping a family together or stopping a very dedicated alcoholic from drinking himself to death: pick yourself up - DO NOT MOVE BACK IN WITH YOUR MOTHER !! - and take your son and LEAVE.

Remember you can do anything if you only put your mind to it. You'll find that out MUCH further down the road. Pride is a wicked wicked fault of yours - pride and fear. You need to lose both.

I want you to do 3 easy things:

• Quit smoking
• Go back to school - major in computer science - you're good at it - and minor in music. Scholarships are your friends.
• Learn to believe IN YOURSELF !!!

Oh and on a sad note: take pictures, save memories - all you can - of Debbie. You'll lose her much much too soon and you'll regret forever that you have so little tangible to remember her by. Cherish her while she's with you. Ask her counsel - she really does know you best and will tell you the truths I am trying to convey here.

signed: a much older and sadly wiser Stephanie

p.s. When you finally DO move out on your own with Robert - do NOT get married again - at least not for a very long time. Needing you or the semblence of such does not equate love. You have always been so worthy of love if you only realized that sooner your life (and others) would've been much easier. Also - go track Gary Gackstatter down - he should be roaming around Ponca City - and keep track of him. He'll be important to your music - and sanity - later.

**the photo is from Rehoboth Beach July 2009

Dusting off the cobwebs

The things that have changed since the last time I wrote in here.  Too many to list, many too mundane to count.  Small things.  Large things.  Seemingly insurmountable things that are somehow scaled, then put behind in readiness for another day, another situation.

As you can see, Harold has been peeking out from where he's wont to hide when things get rough.  When the going gets tough, my muse heads for quieter places.  A gift of a new camera, coaxed him back for a bit and then somehow he wanted to talk again -- go figure.  While I bemoaned his gift of whispering to me in the shower, I find I miss it, startling though it could be.

The year of 46 has been a time of rediscovery and reinvention.  I'm finding myself slowly doing things that are best for me instead of the concern of everyone else.  I've decided to become a vegetarian.  We all know that I loathe anything that tends to get in a muss up the works.  Even though I'm currently on maintenance medication, I loathe that as well, however necessary it may be.  I'm in hopes that this path will eventually relieve me from that burden.

As for the monkeys, I've decided to abandon my re-discovered love affair with nicotine.  I had quit for quite a few years but when things went south, I aimed for the most readily available crutch.  That monkey is a mean, hungry monkey, but once it's off my back, I shall be happier.  I've also decided to quit feeding the caffeine junky.  It helps Jon.  It helps me.

This is still forever and always will be Harolds Blog.  He named it after all and no I still have no inkling from whence the name came.  However, in a rare moment of generosity, he has allowed some of Stephanie's personal life to visit because where would he get his flamboyant nature except from the colors and pallets of my past.  Pieces and patchworks of what mountain to be scaled will materialize here and there as always with a sprinkling of my muses sardonic wit - and captured memories.

I personally wanted to rename this blog To Touch The Sky.  Harold quietly told me to get my own blog if I had issues.

One does not argue with one's muse.

the photo above was taken at Virginia Beach May of 2010.  It was a bit of a pilgrimage for me as I'd left before age 3 and never been back.  We all know how Harold loves the water, witnessed by the photos taken.