Life in General

Amen, Omar

For those of you following the story of Omar the Car Transport Driver from hell, the saga came to and end today, two weeks later, with the safe delivery of my son's car from Naples, Florida to Frisco, Texas.  Apparently, the car was sitting somewhere in Miami until Thursday, when Omar finally got around to getting his ass act together and driving it to Texas. As of about 1:00 p.m., it was safely berthed in its new garage- "dirty as hell," according to its owner, but otherwise none the worse for wear.

Amen.

Uniformity

If you went to parochial school, as I did, I'm sure you recall your school uniform with great fondness disgust. My high school uniform was the ubiquitous plaid, pleated skirt, with saddle shoes (yes!) and a white blouse.  The only one who kind of liked it was my boyfriend at the time (who is now my husband).  What is it about men and school girls in uniform, anyway? Since then, I've never had to wear a uniform, and that suits me just fine. One of my friends is part of the office staff at a clinic, and they wear medical scrubs to work.  She's just fine with that - says it makes getting dressed for work very easy, not to mention the fact that they're totally comfortable.  Sort of like wearing your pajamas all day.

In contrast, one of my co-workers, who was an ICU nurse before becoming a case manager, said one of the best parts of her career change was being able to toss all those nursing uniform scrubs in the trash and go shopping for some professional clothes.

I actually love wearing medical uniforms - I have a pair that I wear around the house sometimes, and they're great for hanging out on the sofa (like I'm doing now) with a glass of wine and a dish of hummous and pita chips.  They're also pretty good for exercising in - at least the bottoms are.  I still like t-shirts on top because they're softer.

But I'm very happy that my plaid, pleated skirt has been relegated to my mother's basement, where she's kept it all these years as a pleasant reminder of my youth.

Hmmm...maybe I should dig it out and wear it as an anniversary present for my husband?  Whaddya think?

What I'll Be Doing With All My Free Time: List One

Ever since I resigned from my job last week, I've been walking around with a giddy sense of excitement. I feel like one of those perky green shoots popping up in my garden, all bright and shiny with possibility.  It's not even as if I worked all that much - 20 or so hours a week, usually.  But I realize that my job was on my mind a lot more than that, especially in the past few years since we've taken to using e-mail more prolifically.  There was just never any letting go 0f it, especially with that work e-mail shortcut on my desktop.  So even when I was home on a "day off," there were often work issues on my mind. Soon that will be over, and the thought of that freedom is very intoxicating.  I've started making mental lists in my head of the things I'll do with my days.  Here's what I'm thinking about:

  1. Spending more quality time with my dogs.  If you're not a dog person, you won't get that.  But the entire time I've had my dogs, I've been working - for a while, at two jobs.  Although I lavish them with attention, it's usually at the end of my day when I'm tired.  They're more than halfway through their lifespan (just like me!), so I want to enjoy them while we're all still in relatively good shape.
  2. Find a favorite cafe and frequent it regularly for writing.  I've always loved the idea of having a "regular spot" to hang out, people watch, and do some writing.  I'm going to start looking for a place like that.
  3.  Start working in earnest on the plethora of writing ideas I've been filling notebooks with for the past five years.  I'm always getting brilliant ideas for things I'd like to write about.  Now's the time to pick one and go at it.
  4. Play more music.  This is a big one.  I firmly believe the loss of a musical life has been a big part of my recent depression.  I'm on a major quest for a good musical group to join, or a least a good teacher  to study with. Angie Mizzell, one of my favorite bloggers, wrote a post the other day about finding your "sweet spot," the place where, according to Max Lucado,  your past successes and deep feelings of satisfaction intersect.  As soon as I read that sentence, I knew where mine was.  Playing music ~ gotta get back to it.
  5. Read more.  My husband would laugh at this, because he already thinks I read more than anybody he knows.  But I recall the days when I was a young SAHM, I spent an hour or two in the afternoons while Brian was napping, curled up in a chair with my book (of course those were pre-internet days.)   I'd love to refresh that habit.
  6. De-clutter.  Every Wednesday this summer there will be a whole load of stuff coming up from the basement and going directly out to the trash.  Promise.
In the midst of thinking about all these things I want to do now that I won't be working, oddly enough I also find myself thinking about what kind of work I want to do next.   Do I want to go back to office work or maybe look for something in a school or college?  What about something totally different - in the media or marketing fields?   Because I do think I'll want to work again some day.  Not sure when.  Not sure where.
But I'll start another list for that and keep you posted.

Suck It Up

I can always tell when it's spring (or fall) because of what's on my floors. Twigs.  Leaves.  Blossoms.  Tiny mud balls.

Anything lying on the ground that will stick to the eight furry feet that run in and out of the house with such spirited abandon.  If I had a dollar for every time I open the door to let a dog out or in ~ suffice it to say, I'd be lying on a beach in the Caribbean instead of blogging about dirty floors.

What I really need to find is a high powered vacuum cleaner with super suction.  I mean, the old Hoover bag model just does not cut it any more.  So I've been doing a little online vacuum cleaner research and internet housewares window shopping.  I know for sure that I don't want one of those bag-less models...I mean, who thinks it's a good idea for all the dirt and crud to just swirl around loose in the canister, and then fly into your face when you try to empty it into the garbage?  Come on.

I'd really like one of those nifty Dyson vacuums, the one advertised by that blonde guy with the cool accent (is he British or Australian?)   But, alas, they are SO expensive - my shabby old floor does not deserve to be swept with such a serious machine.

What I really need is a good deep carpet cleaner, and someone willing to use it about three times a week.

As I mentioned the other day, I'm thinking about tearing up all the carpeting and having the vintage oak wood flooring underneath it refinished.   We had hardwood floors in the house where I was born, and I recall loving the sound of my mother's high-heeled shoes as she tip-tapped from room to room.  (It was the 1950's, people, and my mother dressed like Donna Reed - she really did.)

In my house, however, it would be the sound of those eight tiny feet skit skattering across the wood, hundreds and hundreds of times a day.  Hmmm.

Maybe I should suck it up and leave well enough alone.