Decisions!

A couple weeks ago, The Good Man and I took the Fabulous Mom-in-Law out to dinner at a really beautiful San Francisco restaurant (if you know the area, it is located at the Marina, at Fort Mason, right on the water, with stunning views of the Golden Gate.)

As I enjoyed the “wine pairings” with my meal, this meant that it wasn’t long before I had to take myself and my walnut sized bladder to the ladies room.

With business complete, I went to flush the toilet and was presented with…a choice.

The top of the toilet had a button that was divided in two. One side said .9 The other side said 1.6

And I thought to myself…is this a .9 or 1.6 sized event?

Hell if I know!

Well, TMI and all that, but I determined it was really only a .9 sized event so I pushed that one. Then, when that was done, giddy with all this decision making and wondering how big a 1.6 flush was, I hit the other button.

Then realized that this ingenious toidy is supposed to save water. So what did I do? Gratuitously flushed, that’s what I did. And used up 2.5.

Oh the humanity!

As the old saying goes, you can dress me up, but you can’t take me out…

(This is not my picture, but it was *exactly* like this)

Keep it to yourself, sister

The weather outside yesterday was what they call “low cloud cover”. Low ceiling, gray clouds, occasional sprinkling rain.

This makes most people think, “brr, cold” and toss on all matter of arctic gear.

This is not true for me. Low cloud cover means the heat is held in and the drizzly rain means humidity.

See, I was brought up in New Mexico and my body has been attuned to be a convection cooled device. Or, more accurately, an evaporative cooled device. I sweat. The dry desert air slurps that up, thus cooling my rig and allowing me to continue on.

I’m attuned to this and it suits me just fine.

When it’s warmish and humid, I cannot effectively evaporative cool my hard working human mo-chine.

You can ask anyone who knows me, my internal temp tends to run a little hot anyway. The frosty pawed feline doesn’t favor me as a sleeping device because she thinks I’m nice, ok?

So what all this means is, even on a cloudy drizzly day like today, I don’t want anything to do with a jacket.

This tends to make the biddies and would-be work moms crazy.

“Aren’t you cold!?!” they shriek.

“Where is your jacket?!?!” they demand in harpy voices.

Look, I have a mother. She’s a fine, upstanding lady. She taught me to be self-sufficient. If you are cold, put on a jacket. If you aren’t cold, don’t. If you are cold and don’t put on a jacket, it’s your own damn fault.

Mom and I have been in agreement on this for years.

Yesterday, I was wearing a sweater dress with a long sleeved sweater over, tights and knee-high black boots. That is practically Nanook of the North for me, and yet, one of my menopausal coworkers eyed me up and down and screeched “Aren’t you cold!?!” because I was sans jacket.

It was close to sixty frapping degrees outside, but it was drizzly, so that must mean everyone should wear an overcoat.

An overcoat? Hell. No. I was hot in what I was wearing!

But if I had said to her, “Hey, you look a little hot, why don’t you take some clothes off” I would have been reported to HR.

It’s a bizarre up world out there, and I’m but a passenger on this carnival ride.

Image via FreeFoto.com

A little self-reflection

Or maybe a little self-awareness?

At my place of employment, we have a bank of five elevators that get all us little minions to and from the multitude of floors in our fabulous office building.

Every day I ride in these elevators, and it gives me time to notice some stuff.

Like the fact that the interior of the elevator cars is mirrored. Yup, to a high polish. What this means is each person’s visage is clearly reflected back into the car.

Meaning…if you are standing in the back surreptitiously picking your nose, you are not surreptitious at ALL. We all have to just look forward to see what you are doing back there. You aren’t hiding.

Most people get in there and lock their eyes on the television screen scrolling headline news. You know, the ol’ don’t make eye contact elevator rule.

I sometimes watch the headline news, and have become a repository for useless trivial information that I can whip out at random times to the utter disinterest of The Good Man.

But lately I’ve been watching the show in the reflected doors. People really are odd little creatures.

I’ve caught *numerous* male colleagues checking out the backsides of the comely young ladies who work here. And who can blame them, really?

I’ve also caught quite a few roll eyes or scowls as someone apparently unliked gets on the car.

There are the salespeople on the elevator who try to read the names on people’s badges, I guess perpetually making a sales contact list.

I’ve witnessed some personal grooming that is best left for a private moment.

On Friday, as I got on the elevator and found my spot, I saw the lady to my side and a step back look my Friday casual outfit up and down, roll her eyes, then put her hand to her stomach and smooth it down, as though to assure herself that her midsection was smaller and flatter than mine. It was, she has nothing to worry about.

Evidently people seem to go through life believing, “If I can’t see you, you can’t see me.” Except when your every move is reflected back.

Believe me, I’m all too aware of this little feature of the elevator and make sure to keep my hands away from my nose, my errant underwear or my boiling zit.

I kinda want to put up a sign that says, “Objects in mirror may be you.”

PS Yes, I really did take an iPhone photo in my elevator at work…….don’t think that wasn’t odd to explain to the guy who got on two floors down.

PPS Yes, I’m wearing my kicking Fat Babies to work today. Saaaalute! Since Fat Babies are one of the highest searched keywords on my blog, I figured I’d give them another plug.

Let’s see…

Since I dropped out of the world yesterday (see post below), let’s see what’s going on in my little world today so I can get caught up. Yep, let’s go to the news.

Stock are down…blah, blah, blah

Government bail out…blah blah

Obama struggling to maintain lead in key states. Sure, yeah, ok.

Palin ain’t talking to the press. boooring

Tainted milk in China. : brr : scary.

David Blaine hanging upside down for a real long time. Yawn. My feelings on that yo-yo are already documented.

Every state has a personality. Hmm. Mildly interesting.

A crappy rendition of the National Anthem. Nothing new. Ya never know what yer gonna get when you go to the yard.

Meg Ryan talks about her divorce. From, uh, 2000?

Wow, ok, well, in one day, not much changed.

And in that same day…people were rude on the CalTrain. My boss pooped on one of my performance reviews. The shuttle to the train broke down. There was a major accident a block from my house. And I ended the day with a deep headache and a really bad mood…that I brought home to The Good Man…just so he could experience the special joy his wife had to bring to the table.

feh!

Positively Tarty!

Sometimes, the good guys can get ahead. But only sometimes.

Last week, I had occasion to work with someone at my company who I have a lot of respect and admiration for.

Long story short, my friend needed help. He’d gone and done something that is not *quite* in line with all the fun policies and procedures we have, and he knew it.

So he came to me. The Fixer.

And I did. Fix it, that is. I fixed it by taking a rash of sh– from a variety of Director-types. I knew the level and intensity of the sh– I’d receive, and was willing to take it. I pled the case and won.

But that’s really only backstory…

Turns out my friend is classier than I ever gave him credit for (he IS an engineer, afterall), and so Tuesday morning, this arrived on my desk.

Pretty, huh? I think so. I like the vase a LOT.

So upon receipt, I quickly scooped the flowers off my desk and ran to my boss’ office to show her the *gratitude* I’d received from a client team. I got proper ooh’s and ahh’s in return.

I also ran into my Director in the hallway who said, “Oh, are those from The Good Man?”

“Nope!” I replied quickly and explained the gift. She was also *very* impressed.

heh.

But that’s still not the point.

You’ll note in the photo that this arrangement has several large lilies.

I do love lilies.

They smell divine, they really do.

But now, here we get to the point of this rambling blog post.

I recently read a book by a lady named Cathryn Michon. The book was a mostly autobiographical telling of the horrors of her recent love life. It was a mostly throwaway book, but had a few good laughs.

One part, appropo of nothing, she was talking about being in a high level meeting and noticing a flower arrangement. She made a comment along the lines of how flowers are basically natures little oversexed organisms, what with all the throbbing pistols and yearning stamens.

I had a pretty good laugh at that when I read it. Tis true.

This was brought to mind again with these flowers sitting here on my desk.

The part that makes them smell so heavenly is the, ahem, rigid glistening stamen.

I mean, look at this thing!

SCANDALOUS! Right here at *work* even!

I have an austere Russian friend who once I witnessed going into a huge bouquet of Stargazer Lillies and unceremoniously ripping the pollen caked centers out of all of them. I think I actually winced.

Free love for flowers!
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(editors note: yes, I know, any writing instructor would advise students to HAVE A POINT when they write something. Much like fixing my friend’s breach of the rules, I’m willing to take the grief for breaking the rules for good writing. The joys of blogdom…)