Rosie On Vacation - Part III

This is a little early, but I have a feeling the most productive part of today is over, so I can sum up:

1. Lay around on the couch for three straight hours in my PJs reading more of The Thirteenth Tale.
2. Went on a 4.25 mile (approx) walk on the beach and found an AWESOME conch shell. My resolve crumbled and I brought it home.
3. Finished The Thirteenth Tale. Out-bloody-standing.
4. Bought a bunch of Christmas presents online. Dear god, I love Amazon.com.
5. Played video games/board games/watched movies for the rest of the night.**

Also, my ponderance for the evening: The big deal about Scarlett Johansson. Sexiest woman alive? Really? I mean, yeah, she's a pretty girl, and yeah, she's got great curves, and yes, she is a preternaturally good actress (I direct your attention to such movies as The Prestige and Girl with a Pearl Earring...) But she's just not a great beauty in my opinion. This came to mind as I was considering this movie poster and this still for The Other Boleyn Girl (great book by the way too; Philippa Gregory has a great grasp on the fashions and culture of the time, not to mention absorbing plot and characters, but I will admit it's strictly fluff. That, and she has a habit of wrapping her stories up too quickly. The Boleyn Inheritance was a bit of a change from that standard, but overall, it's like she's exhausted and just wants to finish it already. But I digress WAY off subject...), and there's Eric Bana in the middle but let's all admit, no one is looking at him. Everyone's attention is focused on the two faces on which it should be focused: Scarlett Johansson and Natalie Portman. Now, Natalie? Classic beauty from the time she was 12 years old, and an equally qualified or superior actress (Star Wars prequels notwithstanding, but you can't blame her entirely for that - an actor/actress is limited by the ability and vision of the writer and/or director). But Scarlett? Pretty, sure, but as far as my opinion is concerned, she should avoid being in the same frame as Miss Portman. However, in her defense, I will say she runs circles about her predecessor, Jessica Biel, and is a far better actress.

**Indicates that the writing was done prior to completion of this activity, but one can speculate that it is what the future holds.

Rosie On Vacation - Part II

Update for Monday:

1. Walked on the beach and purposefully picked up NO shells this time.
2. Climbed the dunes at Jockey's Ridge in Nag's Head and watched Friends Matt and Chad try to fly Cheryl's kite for her.
   
3. Spent more time trying to figure out where to eat than we did actually eating. Sunset Grille in Duck, in case you're curious.
4. Drove back down to Kill Devil Hills to visit the Wright Brothers Memorial.
   
5. Found out that Chad has an inexplicable hatred for Duck, NC.
   
6. Read a LOT of The Thirteenth Tale, by Diane Setterfield.
   
7. Beat the odds for number of red spaces landed on during our evening game of MarioParty.
   
8. Played Scene It on XBox until close to midnight.

Also, a deeply heartfelt thank you to all our veterans, and I'm sorry I missed saying that on Veterans' Day. And if you know me, you know that's as publicly emotional as I'm likely to get on the matter.

Rosie On Vacation - Part I

To begin with, sorry if this blog post is a little screwy - I'm writing this after two heavy whiskey sours and a glass and a half of wine... and very little water because, while I used to think Northern VA water tasted like ass, I hadn't tried Outer Banks water before and I now have a whole new appreciation for my local garbage. May I add, all hail the Brita pitcher (thanks again Ron!)
****************************

So here I am in the Outer Banks, as you mayhave guessed. Corrolla Beach, to be specific. A couple of friends of mine are getting married here on the 17th, and we got an unbelievable deal on a beach house for the week, and I'm at a nice break point between submittals, so it seemed an ideal time for us to take a vacation. We're down here till the 18th and this will be a completely different sort of vacation for me. Namely in the sense that I don't plan to do a single damn thing of value between now and Saturday when I show up to wish my friends well. But I should stop now before I run out of material for Saturday's congratulations post.

ANYWAY. Maybe it's a byproduct of my having grown up on the East Coast, but I don't see the point or sense in paying lots and lots of money to go to a beach and do nothing but lay around for a week. And maybe it's a function of my intelligence being largely scholastic rather than social that, when I go to a place loaded with historical or cultural significance, I can't help myself from rushing around to soak as much of it up as I can. Husband and I don't do "nothing" well unless we're at home, and most of our "vacations" consist of things that would exhaust the hell out of the ordinary person.

But we're going to try our damndest to be lazy bums this week. Or at least, mostly.

So, for my first update for anyone back home who might be keeping up, here's a recap of most of what we did today:

1. Walked on the beach and collected intact and interesting shells that I really have no planned purpose for but can't help myself about.
2. Watched the last half hour of a Project Runway rerun, which I have never seen before and am not likely to add to my Tivo Season Pass list, but it was moderately entertaining anyway.
3. Climbed the Currituck Lighthouse, which is probably in walking distance from our beach house. Definitely qualifies as the most interesting/educational/active thing we did all day, considering that the lighthouse is 130-odd years old and involved a 214-stair climb but provided some sweet views (pics coming in the recap post).
4. Watched the Skins hand over the game to the Philadelphia Freakin Eagles.
   
5. Took a nap.
6. Embarrassed myself on Wii MarioParty (WALUIGI NUMBER ONE!)
7. Schooled my friends on XBox 360 "Scene It."
8. Watched my friends pretend to be rock stars on "Guitar Hero."
   

WHO KNOWS WHAT THE REST OF THE EVENING WILL HOLD!! Staying up past midnight? Eating too much dessert? Playing our music too loud? THAT'S RIGHT BABY! ANYTHING GOES! YOU'RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME! Wait,... what?

Now if you don't mind, I have a glass of wine to finish.

Don't Tase Me Bro!

(Aside: Oh I'm so pissed. Blogger's got an automatic save, but no undo button. So the moment I accidentally deleted my entire - may I say nicely done - post, Blogger automatically saved the newly blank page. So if this post sucks, sorry, but Blogger deleted my good one.)

The news came out today that the police officers involved in the tasing of a University of Florida student during a John Kerry speech are officially free and clear of all wrongdoing, and reinstated to the force. I'm cool with the officers being reinstated. I'm not cool with the clearing of all wrongdoing.

The student was a twerp. A rude, publicity-seeking, scene-making, discussion-disrupting twerp. I'll completely agree on that point. But I don't agree that his actions merited a dose of 50,000 volts by a police officer.

I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I've not-so-secretly wanted a Taser for years. How nice to just give someone a little zap when they deserved it. That asshat coworker who is normally a condescending twit but sidles up to your cube when he needs a favor? Zap! The dope who stands at the front of the line for 20 minutes trying to decide what to order even though they had all the time in the world to decide before they got in line or while they were in line? (True story.) ZAP! But that's just in fantasy land, and I am aware that I would probably get a Zap or two of my own, so maybe it's better that they're only in professional hands. Besides, I digress...

Officers are given weapons for use in situations of self-defense or to prevent physical harm to others by the assailant. We trust them to be - at least while in uniform - paragons of justice, reason, and restraint. We trust them to only use their weapons when absolutely necessary, when public safety is threatened.

Twerp was not posing a threat to anyone. He was making a nuisance of himself. According to every story I've heard, Twerp's biggest offenses were failure to shut his mouth, and failure to leave when requested. It was reported that he held onto a chair in the back of the room in order to avoid eviction, and the officers interpreted that as resisting arrest, so they zapped him. Again, I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't have wanted to do the same thing. BUT. Obnoxiousness alone does not deserve electroshock therapy and the forfeiture of bladder control. I've seen pictures of the guy - he's a scrawny little thing. I'm sure mothers everywhere can agree that the proper course of action would have simply been to pry his fingers off the chair and carry him out of the room like the petulant child that he is. Tasing, while tempting, was a bit over the top. Especially since he acknowledged that they had Tasers and were going to use them and voiced opposition to said control tactic. At that point the officers should have said, "You either leave this room, or we will be forced to Tase you." Considering the fear in his voice, my guess is he would have concluded his little temper tantrum and walked and none of this would have happened.

So, as I said, I agree fully with the officers' reinstatement. But I do think they went overboard in their actions and could do with some refresher courses in situation management and use of law enforcement aids. Please don't Tase me for saying so.

The Politics of Modern Holidays

(Yes those holidays. Yes, this early. First, a little preface...)

All my life, my holidays have been split. Neither of my parents wanted to exclude their families from Christmas celebrations, and both sets lived more or less in the area. So on Christmas Eve, for 25 years, we spent the afternoon and evening with my father's family, and on Christmas Day, for 25 years, we spent the day with my mother's family. This is how it had always been.

Two years ago, I added a third family to the mix, and admittedly changed up the schedule by having Christmas Day with the InLaws, and we drove down to my grandmother's house on Dec 26 to be with my mother's family. I figured if Husband was giving up part of his long-standing traditions to accomodate my family (his family is sane and has only ever had Christmas and the surrounding to-do in one place), my family was going to have to do some accomodating too. This seemed to be a reasonable solution that we could maintain.

But last year they had to change it up again. Sister had (at the time) an almost-3-year old daughter. I will be the first to say that travelling with a toddler is a feat undertaken only by the very brave or very crazed, and so after two brave/crazed Christmasses, the command decision was that Sister, Niece, and Mom would stay out in Colorado, and Grandma and GreatAunt would fly out to see them. Due to... let's say unpleasantness... in my career path, I was unable to score enough time off to go to them. And considering the drama that did in fact happen due to sudden blizzards and air travel, it's probably just as well that I didn't.

This year, I was glad that things were returning to normal. I dislike change, and I cling to my traditions, so the uproar of the last couple of years has been upsetting to me, but (at least for 2005), I thought we had a workable plan. Dec 24 with Dad, Dec 25 with InLaws, and Dec 26/27 with Mom.

So much for that, and I suppose I had better get used to it. Dad emails me the other day. I'll sum up. The entire family - Aunt/Uncle/Cousin, Uncle/Aunt/Cousin, Grands (aka The Table Breakers), Sister, and Niece - will be convening at Dad's house for Christmas this year. However, the Grands, A/U/C and U/A/C will not be arriving until Dec 25, and Sister's/Niece's flight doesn't arrive until Dec 26. So how about Husband and I come over on Dec 26 for Christmas.

First, let me praise him for a) being considerate enough to understand the Dec 25 has been earmarked for InLaws, and b) planning ahead - he's famous for asking us within the week if we want to get together for X big plan (I almost did a blog on this back in July, but I ran out of care.)

Now that that's done, I get to vent my righteous frustration. This arrangement throws my whole steady plan into uproar. What am I supposed to do about seeing Mom's family this year if he eats the 26th? Mom will probably be flying in around the same time as Sister. Between yet another new job (meaning, very limited PTO), and an obligation to be in the office on Dec 28 (the Powers That Be arranged a submittal to go out on Dec 28; good plan), if I see Dad's family on the 26th, then I have exactly one day to see Mom's family, and driving down to Richmond and back on one day, while cramming holiday celebration in the middle is not exactly a palatable option to me, nor would it be to Grandma or Mom.

The Aunts and Uncles boil down to peripheral relatives in my mind, and I think priority should be given to the immediates. Grandma and GreatAunt are in their 80s (and haven't broken any of our furniture), and I see Mom rarely due to the distance, so my normal feeling on the matter is to spend a little extra time with them. Dad's family is mostly in the area (he and Grands live in Virginia), so I see them pretty regularly, hence spending only the one evening with them.

I would tell Dad "Tough", that his day is the 24th, that changing the rhythm really puts me in a crunch trying to accomodate all sides. However, not only would this not make sense to him (why don't I just decline Mom's family this year), but everyone else in the family is making the effort for this big trek (A/U/C are coming up from South Carolina; U/A/C are flying in from Seattle, Sister and Niece are flying in from Denver), so I feel some obligation to be there.

After letting me have my 15 minutes of rantage at the proposed change to schedule, Husband suggested I call Mom and coordinate with her. Maybe I can arrange for her and Grandma/GreatAunt to come up on the 26th and stay the night; then we can do our family holiday at Husband's and my house on the 27th. It's still a little messy, but it's a thought. Maybe Mom can figure it out better.

But in truth, I hate this. I hate being a hinge. I hate having my life turned upside down trying to accomodate everyone and make sure no one's feelings are hurt. I hate that I run myself ragged and all over the state trying to placate this family, or this. I hate that Husband has given up a lot of his holiday traditions to make room for my nutty family.

And before you call me a selfish witch (timely) for getting frustrated that I have to change MY plans, let me say that not only have I had to do this my whole life, but I'm aware that I'm not the only one:

• I know Husband hates the shuffling about - as I said, he always had calm holidays in one setting until he married me. And I know he hates watching me nearly kill myself every year because WE'RE GOING TO HAVE A NICE EFFING CHRISTMAS, DAMMIT.
• I know Sister hates dragging Niece all over creation (not hates bringing her, just hates uprooting her and moving her from house to house to house, and then hoping she brought enough toys and movies to entertain Niece while sort of marooned in a strange place) and probably wishes they could have a nice calm Christmas at home.
• I know Mom hates flying into Richmond and spending the days leading up to Christmas cleaning house because Grandma can't do it so well and Uncle won't.
• I know Grandma hates that she only gets to see us for a little bit at a time and that most of us are incredibly tense due to the cleaning, the driving, the togetherness, etc.
• And I know Dad probably hates that he hasn't seen his kids ON Christmas since the early '90s (but that was part of the point of the new plan in which we see the InLaws on Christmas Proper: now Mom doesn't see us on Christmas either, so he loses a complaint card).

One thing's for certain. Once Husband and I have kids, everyone who wants to see us is coming to us. I want our kids to have traditions - STABLE traditions - and I know how much headache all this back-and-forth has caused me.

More XKCD Genius

The best part is, that's appropriate usage.

It Figures

Two days from now, ghosts of my past will be gathering for our 10 year high school reunion. I'm not going.

First, I hated high school. It's full of bad, awkward memories for me. I cringe at the thought of things I said and things I did. They weren't bad, mind you - I've never been a bad person! I just have a skewed sense of embarrassment, shame, and guilt.

Second, with a handful of exceptions, I still see everyone from high school that I actually want to. And those people that I don't still see, but want to, are extremely unlikely to go (most graduated the year before me so they wouldn't be there anyway; Erin transferred in only for senior year; Jake, one of my best friends who was very much Goth; etc.) The rest of the people - and those most likely to attend - are people I'm very happy not knowing anymore. So the primary reason I'd be going is to see who got fat. And I don't want to be that kind of person, so that's not really a good reason to go.

Third, it's being held at a nightclub in the suburbs. Surprisingly enough, it's not an oxymoron, but reports I've heard from people who've attended indicate that it is as lame as it sounds. And populated by college kids. And they charge a cover. In the suburbs. Furthermore, the reunion lasts from 5:30 to 9:30 pm - who picked THOSE hours??

Fourth, we were invited via Evite, which is very indicative of the people organizing this thing. Very casual, like an afterthought. When Husband's reunion came around last year, they sent real live invitations. My year sent... Evites. And they're charging $60 per person, or $100 per couple.

So I'm quite settled in not going. I responded "See you at the 20," and added my email address and maiden name in parentheses so that anyone who wanted to reach me could. But the voyeur in me couldn't let that stand, and I admit I've been checking back regularly. And who do you think I found out today is going?

My Goth friend Jake. Jake, the 6'7" brick wall beast. Jake, who liked high school about as much as I did. Jake, who listened to Marilyn Manson and worshipped Black Sabbath. Jake is going.

I'm still not. But I'm kind of annoyed that he is.

Truth

In life, I know this much is true:

• The cash register will break just as I get to the front of the line.
• If I'm wearing white, the meal will be tomato-based.
• At least one piece of glassware or furniture will be crushed during a family gathering.
• The intended recipient of my quick note will walk up just as I'm concluding the message.
• The minute the lotion sinks in, there will be occasion for me to wash my hands thus rendering my skin-softening efforts null and void.

Oh Baby

We just shuffled another submittal out the door at Office, and I'm still sort of numb from scrambling for weeks and weeks. I worked another 40 hours last week - that's in 4 days because Monday was Labor Day. Haven't had any wacky adventures (unless you consider wacky and/or adventurous to be sitting on the office lobby floor in a dress swapping the contents of 2" and 3" binders as executives walk by and make inane comments ("You look comfortable! Hardee Har!" Um, no, I'm in a skirt on the floor with my legs twisted in unnatural directions so that I don't pull a Britney as I do menial labor so that YOUR ass looks good when we submit these docs to the client!)) lately, I suppose except for last Saturday.

I was going to a baby shower for friends Jen and Mike. Husband and I are thrilled for them - they'll be outstanding parents and we know they're over the moon. In the midst of clawing my way through back-to-back submittals, I managed to carve out enough time to peruse their Babies R Us registry and order a cute present for them: an adorable pink bouncer (you put the baby in the bouncer so that they're occupied and in a safe place while you're folding laundry, doing dishes, talking on the phone, what have you). BRU is close enough to our house that normally I'd go pick something up, but that was just not reasonable with my schedule the way it was, so FedEx it is!

I should have found the time. BRU apparently is very committed to minimizing consumer waste as evidenced by the fact that they don't even package their items for shipment. They just slap shipping labels on the original box and out it goes. The present arrived in a box so dirty and beat up, I was embarrassed to offer it to my friend, but my options were pretty limited at that point. The contents were still safe - no unusual rattling sounds - so it would have to do. Jen would of course understand, and BRU would get a nastygram in their Customer Comments.

I had planned to go to Party City after work last week (the four-day week after Labor Day) to pick up some cute baby girl wrapping paper or a nice gift bag. However, as I mentioned earlier, I was working pretty hard core last week. I'd get home, exhausted, and think to myself I'll go tomorrow. This happened every day, but I was sure I'd have time on Friday because I was giving my document to Kwik Kopy on Friday. With the document safely in their hands, I could relax, rest, get the wrapping materials, and be ready to simply enjoy myself over the weekend.

I did not count on working until 10 pm on Friday. Needless to say, I could not go to Party City. I said to myself, Okay, I'll go tomorrow morning and get back in time to package it up nicely.

The day of the shower arrived, and in my usual form, time escaped me. Google Maps tells me it's only about 35 minutes to the shower location, so I gave myself about an hour to include a dash through Party City. In some uncharacteristic stroke of genius, I stuffed a pair of scissors and a roll of tape in my purse "just in case."

I get to Party City. I find the bag - very cute, Baby Tigger hugging Baby Pooh Bear. I find enough pink tissue paper to sink a ship. I take it out to my car and go to put the present in the bag.

IT DOESN'T FARKING FIT! I kid you not. Sideways, Longways, Diagonal. Nothing. The box is a full 4 inches too big for the bag. I storm back into Party City not 2 minutes after I left it. The clerk who rang me up looks puzzled. I toss, "Didn't fit," over my shoulder, not missing a step. I grab the biggest roll of pink baby paper I can find, a big lavender bow (gotta keep in proportion), and march back over to the registers. Same girl checks me out, offering apologetic looks in my direction.

This is how we find me standing in the parking lot of Party City in a skirt and heels in bright sun and 95+ degree temperatures, trying to wrap a present on the trunk of my car. I must say, for a three-minute do in some of the worst conditions possible, I think I did a hell of a job. The wrapping was neat and clean, nothing tore, and to the untrained eye, it looked like Fed Ex hadn't chewed it up and spit it out.

Okay, I'm ready! The present and all paper scraps are in the car, I'm in the car, the key's in the ignition, and... I don't have enough gas to get me where I need to go. And it's 11:35. And the party's at noon. What else could I do? I booked it over to the nearest gas station, filled the tank, and exceeded the speed limit all the way to the shower.

I only got there about 15 minutes late, but due to the winding nature of the roads in the area of the party, I wasn't the last to arrive! Furthermore, friend Kathy reassured me that all the boxes in the store looked like that when she went through BRU, so even if I had managed to get there in person, I wouldn't have found a better looking box. Huzzah!

Missing Person: Found

If anyone's been wondering where I've been this past month (minimal bloggage, no email responses, rare callbacks), I'll sum it up this way: in the last pay period, I worked 139 hours. The normal corporate workweek is 40 hours, or 80 per pay period. Yeah, that sucked.

I would like to thank ever-patient Husband for his understanding, sympathy, readiness with a bottle of wine, and willingness to drive all the way to my office to bring me dinner when I pulled a 17-hour day.

I would like to thank Awesome Admin Merideth for not only being my own personal enforcer when the office ass-hats tried to take advantage of me, but also for jumping in and actually taking tasks away from me because, let's face it, I suck at delegating and my control-freakishness cannot permit me to ask anyone else to do something to help me out.

In contrast, I would like to light Evil Coworker on fire for his contributions to my own personal hell. I used to just not like him. However, my sentiments in recent days have crossed the line to pure unadulterated hatred.

I am wiped out, I am exhausted, my brain is pretty well fried, and I think I've developed a permanent hunch from slouching over my computer for a month. But it's over. The submittal is gone, it's out of my hands, and I'd like to put it all behind me now. Not to trivialize, but I suppose this is what it feels like to be released from a hostage situation.