For what it's worth, I would like everyone to know that after three Christmas movies, four batches of cookies, a Tacky Lights tour, and a Cookie Party complete with roaring fire, I am feeling much more Holly Jolly and much less Bah Humbug.
Now, we all know about the Christmas Creep. No not your skeevy uncle after too much eggnog, but the insidious crawl of holiday-centric commercialism ever earlier in the year to the point that I saw red, green, and silver Hershey kisses available around Halloween. It's a familiar, if infuriating phenomenon, and I'm waiting for the good belly laugh when we celebrate Labor Day with 50% off all Santa merchandise.
But this is a new one for me.
I opened my Yahoo email account this morning to see an email from Ann Taylor Loft (love!) advertising a sale. It makes sense, as it's two days before Christmas, and the parking lot around Fair Oaks Mall was crammed yesterday with crawling cars filled with panicked people. I wasn't among their numbers, but I could see it from I-66. God bless online shopping. And I know the economy sucks and retailers have been busting their humps, doing just about anything to get people to at least look at their wares.
Anyhoo. I was all ready to delete yet another sale ad until my eyes caught the subject line.
(Note that it's currently December 23.)
"Ann Taylor Loft After Holiday Sale Starts Today!"
Amazing. I knew they were capable of great work-appropriate clothes. (I'm wearing a sweater of theirs right now.) I did not realize they were capable of bending the laws of space and time.
Good show, Ann Taylor Loft! I humble myself before your scientific prowess. Somebody get NASA on the phone!
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Humbug
Is anyone else feeling distinctly underwhelmed by the holiday season this year?
In spite of the fact that Christmas has not been my favorite holiday for a number of years, I find that I am usually able to gear up for the season. I have Christmas music CDs that I am often itching to play by mid-November. I delight in selecting a wreath and decorating my house. I start shopping sometimes by Halloween. I get all excited about how many different kinds of cookies I can make and the special food items I can bring. I bombard the Post Office with cards. I seek out lighting displays. I love choosing pretty wrapping paper, and I have a library of holiday movies that I start watching on Dec 1.
But this year feels like I sat on a punctured whoopee cushion. Maybe it's that my hormones have been on strike (no, I have nothing to announce) and it's been an awfully rough December for me. Maybe it's my depression and generalized anxiety rearing their ugly
heads (great timing, guys). Maybe it's that Christmas is late in the week and, since I don't take off before the holiday, I feel pressed for time on my must-be-last-minute stuff (cookies can't exactly be done more than a few days in advance, and our family recipe for rolls is a Day-Of thing). Maybe it's been too gray this year. Maybe it's that so many homes in the area are vacant or foreclosed that the lighting displays are weak at best. Maybe it's all the bad news we've been hearing since September that sets such a gloomy air. Or, yes, maybe it's that my heart is two sizes too small. Whatever it is, nothing seems particularly festive and I have a hard time finding any semblance of spirit.
Husband had to convince me to decorate this year because I really wasn't feeling it. I whipped into Cox Farms alone after work two weeks ago and grabbed the first wreath I saw with a top-fixed bow rather than taking time to select the right size, shape, and arrangement. I'm sure it didn't help that I was in pantyhose and heels on a gravel lot. Instead of inciting joy and peacefulness, my CDs are an irritatant and I'm choosing Offspring and Fiona Apple over Tchaikovsky and Diana Krall. At the blowout office holiday party, I felt nervous and awkward and left early; and before you tell me that you wished you could have cut out early from yours, let me say that Company does up one hell of a party and I had planned on shutting the place down. I've so far watched exactly one holiday movie (Elf), and whereas I often bake at least five different kinds of cookies, this year I'm hard pressed to make the two requisite (sugar cookies and chocolate cherry thumbprints) and one maybe (caramel cookies). I didn't even feel the love when I made the fruitcake this year.
In spite of the fact that Christmas has not been my favorite holiday for a number of years, I find that I am usually able to gear up for the season. I have Christmas music CDs that I am often itching to play by mid-November. I delight in selecting a wreath and decorating my house. I start shopping sometimes by Halloween. I get all excited about how many different kinds of cookies I can make and the special food items I can bring. I bombard the Post Office with cards. I seek out lighting displays. I love choosing pretty wrapping paper, and I have a library of holiday movies that I start watching on Dec 1.
But this year feels like I sat on a punctured whoopee cushion. Maybe it's that my hormones have been on strike (no, I have nothing to announce) and it's been an awfully rough December for me. Maybe it's my depression and generalized anxiety rearing their ugly
heads (great timing, guys). Maybe it's that Christmas is late in the week and, since I don't take off before the holiday, I feel pressed for time on my must-be-last-minute stuff (cookies can't exactly be done more than a few days in advance, and our family recipe for rolls is a Day-Of thing). Maybe it's been too gray this year. Maybe it's that so many homes in the area are vacant or foreclosed that the lighting displays are weak at best. Maybe it's all the bad news we've been hearing since September that sets such a gloomy air. Or, yes, maybe it's that my heart is two sizes too small. Whatever it is, nothing seems particularly festive and I have a hard time finding any semblance of spirit.
Husband had to convince me to decorate this year because I really wasn't feeling it. I whipped into Cox Farms alone after work two weeks ago and grabbed the first wreath I saw with a top-fixed bow rather than taking time to select the right size, shape, and arrangement. I'm sure it didn't help that I was in pantyhose and heels on a gravel lot. Instead of inciting joy and peacefulness, my CDs are an irritatant and I'm choosing Offspring and Fiona Apple over Tchaikovsky and Diana Krall. At the blowout office holiday party, I felt nervous and awkward and left early; and before you tell me that you wished you could have cut out early from yours, let me say that Company does up one hell of a party and I had planned on shutting the place down. I've so far watched exactly one holiday movie (Elf), and whereas I often bake at least five different kinds of cookies, this year I'm hard pressed to make the two requisite (sugar cookies and chocolate cherry thumbprints) and one maybe (caramel cookies). I didn't even feel the love when I made the fruitcake this year.
(Yes I make - and eat! - and love! - fruitcake. Now stop laughing or I'll throw it at you and if you value your facial structure, trust me, you don't want that.)
None of this is like me. I had lunch with Friend Kristin today and, while that cheered me up a little, she agreed that this is very un-Rosie. In years past, I've at least been able to fake it. But this year... maybe I'm just done with 2008.
I know I'm just a big barrel of warm fuzzies right now, but this is my blog, dammit, and I get to write about how I feel, be it peppy, funny, sarcastic, or depressing. And you all have to read it because you can't help yourselves. Let it be known: Rosie is broken. Please to fix.
However, I will end on a high note, so that I don't have you all reaching for the revolvers. I promise I will arrive at all functions on time (except to those to which I already made it clear that I would be late) and with a smile, offering cookies and showing gratitude. I will be sunshine and lollipops, or gingerbread and candy canes. I promise to spend the free part of the weekend watching Baryshnikov, Rudolph, Charlie Brown, and Mr. Grinch until my eyes bleed. With luck, that will trip the switch and I will be my sugar plum self.
Besides, I am down 10 lbs since October and am working out more regularly, so more yet may come off. Yay!
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
The Bailout
While I can respect the need to save the jobs of untold thousands of auto industry workers, this somehow rings just a little too true...
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Roommates
My salad days in my lovely empty office with a window and a door that closes are over. On Monday I was assigned an officemate. When her boss walked her around and introduced us, it took me by such surprise that it was all I could do to mumble out a passingly pleasant, “Hi”. I’ll admit I never manage to say or do the right thing, especially under pressure and on the spot, but I think I was well enough able to conceal my sinking disappointment that I now had to share my space.
Sharing space. I’ve never been especially good at it. Perhaps I can trace it back to my childhood, in which my sister and I were lucky enough to never have to share a room except on vacation. Add to that my generally introverted nature, at least until I become comfortable with another person, and you have someone who is fiercely protective of her metaphorical homestead, whatever that homestead may be.
I was an awful roommate, both in college and after. I’ll be the first to cop to it. Truth is truth. I didn’t let the dishes pile up for weeks or allow strange people to crash with us or use up all the hot water knowing that Roomie needed a shower too. My defects are all about how I deal with conflict. I let things build and fester like a nasty infection until I snap over something miniscule, or just make life unpleasant in general with my silent glaring and snarls. Adult of me, I know, but we all have our faults. Husband is the last roommate I’ve had, but we’ve only experienced minor problems with it because both of us are conflict-averse, and he knows how to recognize and shut me down when I start building up.
In my professional life, however, I have experienced no situation in which I had to share my space. I always had my own cubicle, or at least my own clear work area when I was in the Tech Writers pod at Company 2. Here, however, is a new scenario for me.
Roommate is a very nice woman, bright and lively, polite and quick to smile. I have no cause for complaint about her. Best of all, she is in fact a woman. I was having fits trying to figure out how to handle the Aunt Flo issue with a male officemate. I considered stashing a box of “supplies” in the ladies room, but figured that everyone would take advantage of those and they wouldn’t be there when I needed them. I considered going the makeup bag route, but depending upon how much time Roommate was there and how observant and/or dense he was, I anticipated questions about why it was only one week a month that I seemed to need to touch up my makeup a couple of times a day. Cosmetics are a bitch, Roomie.
So I’m fortunate on that score. But today we’re already running into growing pains. Because I have a conference call at 11 and she has an in-person meeting going on right now, and not only do I know I can’t concentrate on the call with the two of them talking, I also know I won’t be able to concentrate on my work with someone talking – either in a meeting or on the phone in general.
Maybe sound canceling headphones are the answer. Or maybe we’ll have to arrange to work from home on alternating days. Hrm... In the meantime, maybe I need to go to Coworker's actual office instead of being on the call today.
Sharing space. I’ve never been especially good at it. Perhaps I can trace it back to my childhood, in which my sister and I were lucky enough to never have to share a room except on vacation. Add to that my generally introverted nature, at least until I become comfortable with another person, and you have someone who is fiercely protective of her metaphorical homestead, whatever that homestead may be.
I was an awful roommate, both in college and after. I’ll be the first to cop to it. Truth is truth. I didn’t let the dishes pile up for weeks or allow strange people to crash with us or use up all the hot water knowing that Roomie needed a shower too. My defects are all about how I deal with conflict. I let things build and fester like a nasty infection until I snap over something miniscule, or just make life unpleasant in general with my silent glaring and snarls. Adult of me, I know, but we all have our faults. Husband is the last roommate I’ve had, but we’ve only experienced minor problems with it because both of us are conflict-averse, and he knows how to recognize and shut me down when I start building up.
In my professional life, however, I have experienced no situation in which I had to share my space. I always had my own cubicle, or at least my own clear work area when I was in the Tech Writers pod at Company 2. Here, however, is a new scenario for me.
Roommate is a very nice woman, bright and lively, polite and quick to smile. I have no cause for complaint about her. Best of all, she is in fact a woman. I was having fits trying to figure out how to handle the Aunt Flo issue with a male officemate. I considered stashing a box of “supplies” in the ladies room, but figured that everyone would take advantage of those and they wouldn’t be there when I needed them. I considered going the makeup bag route, but depending upon how much time Roommate was there and how observant and/or dense he was, I anticipated questions about why it was only one week a month that I seemed to need to touch up my makeup a couple of times a day. Cosmetics are a bitch, Roomie.
So I’m fortunate on that score. But today we’re already running into growing pains. Because I have a conference call at 11 and she has an in-person meeting going on right now, and not only do I know I can’t concentrate on the call with the two of them talking, I also know I won’t be able to concentrate on my work with someone talking – either in a meeting or on the phone in general.
Maybe sound canceling headphones are the answer. Or maybe we’ll have to arrange to work from home on alternating days. Hrm... In the meantime, maybe I need to go to Coworker's actual office instead of being on the call today.
Monday, December 1, 2008
NaNoWriMo 2008: Results
NaNoWriMo 2008 has drawn to a close and the verdict is:
Qualified Fail.
"Fail" because I missed the goal of 50,000 words in a month. I also missed my own personal goal of 10,000 words. In fact, I concluded the month with a grand total of 3,089 words. To my credit, a number of them were big, multi-syllabic words. But it's still a Fail.
"Qualified" because even 3,089 words tops my previous NaNoWriMo (2006) total of... 0 words. So yay me! Maybe I can crest 5,000 words in NaNoWriMo 2009. And even though I cranked out 3,089 words of uselessness (seriously, the whole thing worked much better in my outline than it did on paper), it is not a total loss. I think it can be retooled and redirected to another genre and turn out... maybe all right. I don't know if I'd ever submit it, but it's good to have something.
Word counts aside, one goal was certainly achieved. I reminded myself of the thrill I can feel when scribbling borderline nonsensical words on paper. It's nice to make the world melt away and to sense nothing outside the blissful confines of your own mind but the smell of cheap ink and the feel of good paper. In remembering that simple joy, I count this year as a Win.
(And now that it's over, I no longer have to feel guilty for reading when I should be writing!)
Qualified Fail.
"Fail" because I missed the goal of 50,000 words in a month. I also missed my own personal goal of 10,000 words. In fact, I concluded the month with a grand total of 3,089 words. To my credit, a number of them were big, multi-syllabic words. But it's still a Fail.
"Qualified" because even 3,089 words tops my previous NaNoWriMo (2006) total of... 0 words. So yay me! Maybe I can crest 5,000 words in NaNoWriMo 2009. And even though I cranked out 3,089 words of uselessness (seriously, the whole thing worked much better in my outline than it did on paper), it is not a total loss. I think it can be retooled and redirected to another genre and turn out... maybe all right. I don't know if I'd ever submit it, but it's good to have something.
Word counts aside, one goal was certainly achieved. I reminded myself of the thrill I can feel when scribbling borderline nonsensical words on paper. It's nice to make the world melt away and to sense nothing outside the blissful confines of your own mind but the smell of cheap ink and the feel of good paper. In remembering that simple joy, I count this year as a Win.
(And now that it's over, I no longer have to feel guilty for reading when I should be writing!)
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