Category: work

A new look at an old topic

Far be it from me to be short sighted, but there is one issue I discussed recently that, as of today, I’ve seen a whole different view on.

See, I’ve found a way this can benefit me, and that’s a horse of a whole different color.

The topic was about the guy in my office snack shop talking wildly to himself. I thought he was on a Bluetooth headset. He was not. Original post here.

Well, today, driving to work, I had my iPod shuffle rigged up in the Jeep. See, while in New Mexico, I begged, borrowed, and *ahem* borrowed some music from my best friend’s extensive collection of classic country tunes.

Many of them made their way to my iPod, and as is my way, when a real good song comes on, singing along isn’t just a choice, it’s a mandatory.

So as I rolled into the parking lot at work holding a car concert, I was in full voice along with Gene Watson. (If you are a fan of country and don’t know Gene Watson, well…you should…).

Anyhow, I turned the corner into the parking lot as a lady who had already parked her car skittered in front of me. She looked my way and I didn’t even miss a beat, I kept singing along. The lady just looked away and kept walking.

I thought, “Wow, she didn’t even give me a strange look.”

Then I realized…she probably thought I was talking on a Bluetooth headset.

Crazy cuts both ways.




Image is of Latvian mezzo-soprano Elina Garanca and a pretty extensive web search could not net me the attribution on this photo. I found photos from that same event on the European Commission page which allows for the use of photos with attribution.



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.

Aaaaaand we’re back…

Had a *fabulous* time this weekend in southern New Mexico. The weather was clear and cold and my fair New Mexico is looking gorgeous. I didn’t know how much I needed that trip back home, but I can say I feel “right” since I got back.

The trip was mostly to visit with my best friend, her husband, and my two amazing goddaughters (now 9 and 6). My own version of NewMexiKen’s sweeties.

And I ate. Oh did I eat. Whoa. My best friend and her husband are both amazing cooks, and they treated me right for three solid days.

I got a good snootful of green chile, so I can continue to survive with the appalling lack here in the Bay Area.

I also got a chance to eat oryx. This was my first try at oryx and it was TASTY! My dad was a hunter, so I’ve eaten a variety of game meat sampled from the great state of New Mexico and have no qualms. My friend’s husband is especially good at field dressing so as to help alleviate the gamey taste, so what he brings home is really fantastic.

Plus he’s good with the seasoning, so the outcome was tender, sweet, delicious and quite satisfying. I was able to have oryx prepared a variety of different ways, but by far the most amazing was tacos al carbon cooked down on a disk. (you gotta love game meat cooked on something that used to be a farm implement)

Reflecting on the last post I wrote about good food bringing people together, I smiled on Sunday night when, at the same moment, my best friend was frying rellenos, her husband was cutting up the meat for tacos and I was rolling enchiladas with the help of my oldest goddaughter. While we worked, we shared stories and listened to good music.

That right there is family, and I’m deeply grateful to have it. Food made with love tastes that much better.

I also had the chance to drive up to Cloudcroft looking for snow. They had gotten three inches a few days back, but as you can see by the photo below, there wasn’t much left on the ground. It was a nice day trip anyway. Had lunch, shopped a bit, took a few photos and spent time with my friend.

Back home now. Mainly I’m just a bit homesick, happy to have made the visit and glad to be back in the house with The Good Man and the Cranky Cat.

This going back to work thing, on the other hand……….

(click for full size)

Photo by Karen Fayeth

Unity brought about by food

Upon starting my new job, it was perplexing to me how often they feed us at this place. I mean, I’m not complaining. But seriously, I get at least two meals a week provided, sometimes more.

Good food too, full meals, like chicken and potatoes, cheese tortellini with salad, lavish Mexican buffet, a full course Vietnamese meal, and more.

This was especially peculiar to me, since, at my former employer, I usually ate my lunch by myself at my desk. A friend and I would walk over to the cafeteria, get food, walk back and go our separate ways. Clean. Sterile. Boring.

Now that I’ve been at the new gig 90 days, and having just stuffed myself silly at the potluck to end all potlucks (yum), I realized that this habit of sharing meals together is a bit of brilliance.

Really, how more primal can you get than breaking bread with other people? It creates connections.

Earlier today, I looked around the room at all these people I’ve come to know. Over a plate of homemade food (that’s our pot luck rule, it must be actually homemade), I found an easy camaraderie.

I know that one lady’s young daughter loves red velvet cake, and when she heard another lady at work was making it for our potluck, begged her mom to bring some home.

I know that the lady who sits right next to me was raised in the Philippines, and her homemade lumpia is worth weeping over. (I had three)

I discovered that the guy on the next row who identifies himself as Asian actually has a Mexican mother, who was kind enough to make flan for our potluck. Really, really good flan, too.

The reason for our potluck was to “Share the Love” for Valentine’s Day. As we all ate and complimented each other and asked for recipes, yes, there was love, and connection and a diligence to work together and believe in each other and do our best to get through the obstacles.

All because we got out some paper plates and plastic forks and brought out food that represents a little of ourselves. We’re all taking in a bit of each other and blending into something that much better.

I think that kind of connection is rarely found at work, and has to be part of the reason why this group I work with and for manages to get along so damn well. That’s the kind of “corporate goodwill” you just can’t force.

By the way, the contribution that represented me was a kickin’ bowl of guacamole. I make *really* good guac and today I earned some new fans.

Bet you never knew that guacamole tastes really good on lumpia!

Bringing cultures and oddball coworkers together, one delicious meal at a time…

On this same topic, I am fortunate enough to be able to make a trip to Southern New Mexico this weekend. I’ll be with my best friend of twenty years, and when we settled the date for a visit, one of the first things she said was, “we have to plan the menu”.

Food, for us, is family, is bonding, is life, is earth, is the heart of who we are. Nourishing both body and soul.

I can hardly wait for her homemade rellenos. Right then, I just did a little jump and clicked my heels.

New Mexico, here I come!

Back in my day

You know, back in my day, if a person were to have occasion to be walking down the street, holding an entire conversation with only themselves, we’d call them nutty, cross the street to get away from them and cover our children’s eyes.

These days? No, it’s commonplace. We just figure it’s all normal.

I went downstairs this afternoon to the snack shop in my building for a cup of frozen yogurt. When I walked in the small shop, the oddball guy working there was deep in the middle of a conversation. By himself.

He was speaking, answering, getting a little lively in the discourse.

I naturally assumed he was on the Bluetooth headset for his cell phone.

So I went about the dispensation of some boysenberry no-fat fro-yo. When I went to pay, the young man was still chatting away, waving arms.

He saw me and was like, “oh hi, that will be two dollars.”

He wasn’t on the phone.

Nope. He’s just a good old-fashioned slice of crazy in a brown apron.

Hiding in plain sight.

Questionably sane people can’t even get noticed in this town anymore!