Today is a big day.
"But why, Sunny?" you surely must be asking. "Why is today so big?"
I'm glad you ask.
Today is a big day, because today is the last day of freedom for one of my very dear friends.
That's right - Tomorrow, the Corporate Workforce will be one Wonderful Northern Woman stronger.
However, it will also be the day that another graduate of my Alma Mater leaves our beloved state for greener pastures. And that gives me pause. (And pouts. But mostly pause.)
Sure, I could make her a present with my two hands. But that process takes forever, and I still haven't even gotten through her Christmas gift. By the time I finish that and get it to her, and then make something else to commemorate this exciting day, she will have quit this job, and the one she got after it, and be living in a yurt taking care of a generously-sized herd of dog-e-beests** with her Hubsters. And today is just too important for that.
So, I'll be crafting something of a different sort: The Sunny Smiles Guide to Not Ripping Your Hair Out in CorporateLand.
So without further ado... this one's for you dearheart. Give 'em hell.
* Greet yourself with a bright, sincere smile every morning when you look in the mirror. Corporate peoples can, on occasion, be snobbish little snots... so it might be the only friendliness you encounter during your day.
* Opportunities are everywhere. Always always always say yes when given a task - you never know when you might get a trophy for being the awesomest at filing.
* Only talk about what you would feel comfortable hearing about within office walls. No one wants to be That Coworker, who is avoided in the hallway because of a difficult case of oral diarrhea.
* Don't be afraid to employ a popular office-place tactic to make friends with your coworkers: The candy dish. There's nothing like bonding in the name of snacks.
* Lunchtime is a treat. Make sure to step away from your desk and spend at least twenty minutes doing something entirely different from what you are employed to do. While being devoted to your job is wonderful, and while it may seem difficult to break away during the early days of your employment, I assure you that you don't want to gain a reputation as That Girl Who Will Give Up Her Lunch Altogether Because Some Idiot Screwed Up Their Deadline. Helping is wonderful... but don't set yourself on the road to burnout immediately. Besides - lunch is yummy.
* Use headphones if music is essential to your workplace endeavors. As much as you may love Sir MixALot, your neighbor might think he's the stupidest musician ever, and I don't want to come to a funeral with the headline "Young Up-And-Comer Dies in Brutal Pen Stabbing."
* Check behind you before you dance. Copy room... Break area... Your cubicle... These are all totally danceable spaces, but if someone walks up behind you when you're busting a move, you're liable to look more like you're covertly dealing with a wedgie instead of expressing your inner ballerina.
* Kiss your special someone every night as soon as you get home. Don't immediately launch into stories about how your hellacious day really sucked (or about how your epic day beat the socks off of every other workday in the history of time). Remember that you are both people with important duties, and that your relationship is important to nurture, too.
* BUT, don't feel like work must stay at the workplace. If you're upset, talk about it. That way you'll have an explanation for why you yelled at the dishwasher for making a funny sound. It's also justification to devour a guiltless pint of Chunky Monkey for dinner.
* Eat healthy as often as you can. Yes, pizza is delicious... but if it makes you smell funny, try to save it for special occasions (like your first Friday-after-a-long-workweek). You will spend your first month making first impressions... Don't let them be stinky ones.
* Stretch whenever you get the chance. Some offices have a daily stretching regimen. It can be a time to bond with your coworkers. While you work out the kinks from sitting ergonomically for such extended periods of time, see if everyone can share a (clean, suitable-for-work) joke or piece of trivia.
* Treat three-hole-punchers with care. All it takes is one misguided tug of the catch-tray to send those obnoxious little chips flying all over the place... And then you have to vacuum, which sucks.
* If you find yourself in the enviable position of having a lunchroom that is frequented by the Snack Fairy, please indulge. But indulge cautiously. It's wonderful to enjoy a special treat in the heart of a bonding moment with fellow snacky-coworkers. But it's not so wonderful to be That Girl Who Lurks In The Lounge Waiting For Her Next Free Nom.
* Clean your desk before you go home every night. It not only gives you a fresh start every morning (and a chance to make sure you didn't miss any immediate-action items that may have landed on your desk), it also gives the Office Pixies a place to dance during the night. And if there's anyone whose good side you want to be on... It's those Pixies.
* Leave notes with any paperwork you abandon on a coworker's desk. While they might know exactly what gift you're leaving them, there is always the possibility that they're having a suck-tastic day and that one little report will push them over the edge into insanity. That's what post-its are for - jot a quick message about what you're leaving and why... And sign it. That way, when they lurch over the edge into oblivion, you'll be safe from certain death at their rage-addled hands.
* E-mail your friends and loved ones often, to make sure they know you haven't forgotten them. While this is the first step in a tremendous journey for you, it is a difficult step for them as well.
They love you bunches, and great crocodile tears are leaking all over the place as you spread your wings.
Much love, S.S. <3
** Kind of like wildebeests, but smaller and more snuggly.
Showing posts with label noms. Show all posts
Showing posts with label noms. Show all posts
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Spirit of the Season
Writing while you're part of a national organization can be a little terrifying.
Every day, I worry about the words that I put onto paper.
While the fodder provided within the walls of my little slice of Awfice Heaven is almost as delicious as a cranberry-raisin pie, it's also equally dangerous. While a little indulgence is good... too much can get you into trouble.
(And I don't mean the kind of trouble that comes from over-indulgence in a natural laxative... Although that has ramifications of its own.)
No, I mean the kind of trouble where a writer must be constantly vigilant for cues that she is giving away too many specifics, and is placing herself into danger if her employer ever finds out and confronts her about "That angry admin blog."
For instance, it would be a hoot and a half for me to write about the responses they released regarding the recent employee satisfaction poll. But that would be a release of too many specifics.
It would also be fantastically funny for me to write about being trapped in a basement with a herd of misfiring toilets because of a crummy landlord who doesn't take care of his building, but that is also rife with specifics and could also create a situation of negative ramifications if said landlord ever caught wind of it and then lashed out at me for creating an "online spectacle."
I would love to write about some of the more specific Noms that come across my plate at work, but (you guessed it), they're too specific for public consumption.
Basically, it's pretty hard to write when your hands are tied regarding the material you would most love to put out there for your beloved ReaderFriends.
But then, every once in a while, something wonderful will come along that I don't have to resist sharing because it's so delightfully delicious AND so fabulously vague.
As you know, there's a grand holiday approaching. One where we get to gorge ourselves on pies and delectables all morning, and then on turkey and savorables all afternoon, and then spend the evening in a food-induced coma with our pants unbuttoned and a gluttonous smile upon our greasy lips.
Or, you know, something like that.
Anyway, in preparation for this holiday, I usually get my bake on.
This year I took a break from the typical pie-a-palooza in which I usually indulge and opted instead for something new and different: Gingerbread men.
In the shape of Ninjas.
Yes, boys and girls, you heard right: Ginja-Ninjas.
This is tremendously exciting not only because they are cookies, but also because they are stealthy and because they will kick you in the uvula on their way to assault your stomach with their deliciosity.
I've been looking forward to baking these cookies for almost five weeks, ever since I ordered the cookie cutters. And I've been talking about them with the select few at work I knew were capable of keeping my incredible secret.
One of these individuals is arguably the funniest person in the office.* I told her about my Ginja-Ninjas, and her face lit up.
"My son LOVES ninjas. Do you think you could bring in some for him?"
I, of course, was delighted at the idea. Her son has his own difficulties throughout his life. So the idea of making something that would bring joy to a child AND a smile to a coworker was optimally awesome to me.
And now, it is Sunday evening. The cookies are baked, including one very special one with the child's initial in the middle of it. And I know that my weekend was spent doing something worthwhile.
I hope that your week is short, demands placed upon you are few and that you're able to escape your own office and spend time with your family free from technology and other constraints upon you. I hope that you will give thanks to someone for your gainful employment (if you have it), or for the extra time to devote to what you enjoy (if you don't). I hope you will enjoy good food and the start of a wonderful season.
To Your Health,
*Sunny
* I should give an example. For Instance: When told that someone in our company was packing for a five month trip, she sat silently for a moment before saying "That's a lot of underpants."
Every day, I worry about the words that I put onto paper.
While the fodder provided within the walls of my little slice of Awfice Heaven is almost as delicious as a cranberry-raisin pie, it's also equally dangerous. While a little indulgence is good... too much can get you into trouble.
(And I don't mean the kind of trouble that comes from over-indulgence in a natural laxative... Although that has ramifications of its own.)
No, I mean the kind of trouble where a writer must be constantly vigilant for cues that she is giving away too many specifics, and is placing herself into danger if her employer ever finds out and confronts her about "That angry admin blog."
For instance, it would be a hoot and a half for me to write about the responses they released regarding the recent employee satisfaction poll. But that would be a release of too many specifics.
It would also be fantastically funny for me to write about being trapped in a basement with a herd of misfiring toilets because of a crummy landlord who doesn't take care of his building, but that is also rife with specifics and could also create a situation of negative ramifications if said landlord ever caught wind of it and then lashed out at me for creating an "online spectacle."
I would love to write about some of the more specific Noms that come across my plate at work, but (you guessed it), they're too specific for public consumption.
Basically, it's pretty hard to write when your hands are tied regarding the material you would most love to put out there for your beloved ReaderFriends.
But then, every once in a while, something wonderful will come along that I don't have to resist sharing because it's so delightfully delicious AND so fabulously vague.
As you know, there's a grand holiday approaching. One where we get to gorge ourselves on pies and delectables all morning, and then on turkey and savorables all afternoon, and then spend the evening in a food-induced coma with our pants unbuttoned and a gluttonous smile upon our greasy lips.
Or, you know, something like that.
Anyway, in preparation for this holiday, I usually get my bake on.
This year I took a break from the typical pie-a-palooza in which I usually indulge and opted instead for something new and different: Gingerbread men.
In the shape of Ninjas.
Yes, boys and girls, you heard right: Ginja-Ninjas.
This is tremendously exciting not only because they are cookies, but also because they are stealthy and because they will kick you in the uvula on their way to assault your stomach with their deliciosity.
I've been looking forward to baking these cookies for almost five weeks, ever since I ordered the cookie cutters. And I've been talking about them with the select few at work I knew were capable of keeping my incredible secret.
One of these individuals is arguably the funniest person in the office.* I told her about my Ginja-Ninjas, and her face lit up.
"My son LOVES ninjas. Do you think you could bring in some for him?"
I, of course, was delighted at the idea. Her son has his own difficulties throughout his life. So the idea of making something that would bring joy to a child AND a smile to a coworker was optimally awesome to me.
And now, it is Sunday evening. The cookies are baked, including one very special one with the child's initial in the middle of it. And I know that my weekend was spent doing something worthwhile.
I hope that your week is short, demands placed upon you are few and that you're able to escape your own office and spend time with your family free from technology and other constraints upon you. I hope that you will give thanks to someone for your gainful employment (if you have it), or for the extra time to devote to what you enjoy (if you don't). I hope you will enjoy good food and the start of a wonderful season.
To Your Health,
*Sunny
* I should give an example. For Instance: When told that someone in our company was packing for a five month trip, she sat silently for a moment before saying "That's a lot of underpants."
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Steak and Cheese, FTW
I'm not 100% certain which deity invented hiccups... But it was one with an irksome sense of humor.
I spent the brunt of yesterday hicc-ing around my office and causing general mayhem. This is unfortunate on a number of levels:
1) Hiccups aren't very lady like. And in an office, anything unladylike must be excused. Which means I have to say "Please excuse me" after every hiccup... Which is about every 18 seconds.
2) Hiccups hurt. I've always been an overachiever, so my hiccups are more like full-body heaves. My diaphram goes beyond the realm of the normal contraction: it attempts to implode my ribcage. So I end up making this weird "gasp" after every hiccup. Which is unsettling, both to me as my body collapses around itself, and to onlookers who think I've been taken with an apopleptic fit.
3) Hiccups aren't exactly office-friendly. As noted previously, it's been quiet lately. There's no noise to drown out my intense "HIC-uh." "HIC-uh." So people around the office go "What's that?" and toddle out to see The Source Of The Incredible Noise. And believe you me, there's nothing so exciting on a dreary afternoon as settling in for a pleasant game of "Watch The Receptionist In Her Fit of Uncontrollable Gastric Joy."
4) Hiccuping into the phone makes me sound like a nincompoop.
There is a typical chain of events that occurs with the onset of hiccups. It typically goes like this:
<little hic>
Me: Hmm... Maybe it was just a burp.
<slightly larger Hic>
Me: Nothing to fret about. It's coinci <HIC-uh.>
Me: Fuck.
From here, I sit quietly for a moment and think about the hiccups. Are they induced by anything in particular that I could change? Are they tasting like anything I ate that I could counteract with something different? Are they really going to make my ribcage implode?
Once I'm sick of that game, and have accepted the realization that I am indeed doomed to die a painful and tragic Hiccup Death if I don't do *something*, I begin my counterattack.
STEP ONE: Holding The Breath.
Any schoolchild who ever succumbs to hiccups can tell you: The first defense is the holding of the breath. Goodness knows why it works... Maybe it's the throwing-off of the normal equilibrium that pushes everything into appropriate action. Maybe it's just a time-killer until the everything settles in to normal again. Or maybe it's a Commie plot. In any case, it was my first attempt at a return to normalcy.
This must be carefully planned. One cannot go all willy-nilly with their breath holding: a certain sequence of events must be followed. A deep inhalation, a settling into the chair and a closing of the eyes to await the peaceful calm...
And the phone rings.
Not once. Not twice. Four different phone calls, interrupting four different breath-holdings. Four.
Every time it happens I breathe out, answer the phone, realize I need to breathe in, and it sounds like this:
<ring>
<whoosh>
<pick up phone>
<gasp>
Me: Good afternoon, this is <HIC-uh>. Ugh. Excuse me. Hi. How can I help you?
<laughter>
Client: Hiccups? Have you tried holding your breath?
STEP TWO: Ingesting Something Crazy To Make Them Stop.
As a child, I was taught that there are a number of homeopathic cures for hiccups. I was given small shots of whiskey, teaspoons of sugar, tablespoons of honey, peanut butter sandwiches... You name it, I ingested it in the name of science and getting-me-to-stop-hicc-ing-
Which was still a remarkable endeavor.
First, I had to obtain sugar. Not entirely difficult in an office, but still. It required going into the kitchen and grabbing a great gaumy** handful of 1 oz. sugar packets and a paper cup, and then sneaking back to my desk and not looking entirely guilty of snitching them.
From there, each individual packet is opened and dumped into the cup. This leaves my trashcan full of sugar wrappers and me looking like an incompetent addict with white powder all over my desk.
Eventually, enough sugar will accumulate in the bottom of my cup that it is scoopable with a spoon.
From which point it goes like this:
<insert spoon into mouth, start swishing sugar about to try to regain proper control of tongue>
<HIC-uh>
<splutter of sugar all over desk>
Fail.
Okay, trying again
<insert spoon into mouth, start swishing sugar about to try to regain proper control of tongue>
<Phone ring>
<prematurely attempt to swallow sugar-spit, choke slightly, gasp>
Me: Good afternoon, this is <HIC-uh>. Sorry. Excuse me. <sigh> Hi, how can I help you?
<laughter>
Client: Hiccups? Have you tried eating something?
STEP THREE: Alcohol.
Thankfully, this step didn't need to be implemented until after quitting time. I went home, and unsuccessfully tried to drown my hiccups in rum. When that didn't work, I tried Klondike bars. And then finally, after wasting a solid portion of my evening trying to make them go away, they subsided because I stopped thinking about them and sat down to eat my dinner.
And thus... steak and cheese, For The Win.
** This word has a little red squiggle under it. I tried lots of different spellings but couldn't find anything to call it out as properly spelled. Finally, I googled and came up with this result:
"'Gaumy' is [a] great Maine word for something kind of messy or awkward." http://www.panbo.
Friday, August 12, 2011
Storytime
Once upon a time, there was a jelly doughnut.
It was a happy little doughnut, because it wasn't little at all, really.
It was actually quite huge.
And it was very proud.
It had powdered sugar all over, but not too thick...
It was just the right coating.
And it was filled with sticky sweet strawberry jam, which was just runny enough to give the jelly doughnut a proper squish, but not so runny as to leak out the jelly belly button.
This jelly doughnut lived a happy life. It came out of an oven one Friday morning, put its perfect coat of powdered sugar on, and sat in the bakery pastry case waiting for its person to come along.
And then suddenly, the shop bell rang.
What a happy day!
A tall, heavyset man had come to give the doughnut a home.
The doughnut smiled.
It was going to make someone very happy.
And very full.
So it sat in its little cardboard box with some other jelly doughnuts, and some cinnamon rolls, and one peppy little blueberry muffin with crumbles on top.
One by one, the jelly doughnut's friends started to disappear.
First one cinnamon roll was taken out by a very smiley admin.
Next, the peppy little blueberry muffin with the crumbles on top went to an EngineerFriend.
And then one of the other jelly doughnuts ascended to the heavens, aided by the hand of a hungry manager.
The jelly doughnut just smiled and waited, knowing that its time would soon be nigh.
Quietly it sat there, unassuming and unafraid as EngineerFriend after EngineerFriend strolled past to grab their morning swill from the coffeepot.
And then, it's moment came!
"Ooh, a doughnut!" heard the jelly doughnut.
And it puffed up its pastry and readjusted its coat for optimum deliciosity.
It wanted to make its hungry human very happy.
And very full.
But then...
OH THE HORROR!
Something sharp and pokey sliced nonchalantly through its puffy pastry, scattering powdered sugar all over the counter.
But that wasn't it.
No, more horrors were to come...
Although the jelly doughnut didn't know what they might be.
The jelly doughnut tried to be brave, and maintain its puffy pastriness and it's powdery goodness and its sticky sweetness...
But then came the worst part.
THE NINNY ONLY TOOK HALF OF THE JELLY DOUGHNUT.
 |
| Seriously. Who does that? |
And the sticky sweet strawberry goo leaked everywhere.
And the powdered sugar got all soggy.
And the puffy pastry gave up the fight and went flop.
And so ends the tale of The Jelly Doughnut.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
I Scream, You Scream...
HURRAY!
As you can tell, today is not Monday. It's not even Tuesday, in fact, but *Wednesday*, and the first opportunity this week I've had to be clever in your direction.
'Such a busy girl!' You might be saying. (Or you might be eating your Popsicle and wondering when in the world I'll get to my point...)
Anyway.
Today, as I celebrate the ultimate demise of my least favorite project so far in my employment here, I consider all of the projects still left on my plate for the rest of the afternoon.
I have to finish my invoices. (Neverending project, I tell you. Someday I'm going to drown in a sea of red ink, and they're just going to watch me float away.)
I have to clean up the untidiness that has taken over my desk. (The only thing stopping the Red Ink Flood is the sea of paperwork sopping it up.)
I have to do the actual *billable* work that is sitting next to my keyboard, staring at me longingly... Calling to me with its pretty Defense Logistics Agency logos and big words like "Task Deficiency."
But that's not what's keeping me the busiest today.
No, not even the call of actually making the company money can lure me from my current project...
Once a month, my dear company holds a Status Meeting. It mostly concerns large numbers, mesmerizing (if not morbid-looking) graphs and the ever-popular "State of the Office" address which involves such crowd-pleasing talking points as "Core working group" and "Overall billability..." not to mention our beloved moments of health and safety. It's always a thriller, I'm telling you.
But, despite the riveting nature of the information at these affairs, we sometimes have trouble getting attendance to the level at which it should be. A wonder, I know, considering the material... But nonetheless, that's the way it works. So we resort to a low-life, underhanded scheme to coerce WorkerFriends into the meeting room...
Bribery.
Usually in the form of food.
Now anyone who works in an office can tell you the magical nature of food within a corporate environment. It's mind-boggling how a tray of muffins or a jar of lollipops can be depleted without seeing a soul in an hour-long period. (It's true. Set a box of muffins on your desk when you're working at it, and it will last all day. Set it out and go to a 9:00 meeting, and you'll come back to a desk covered in nothing but crumbs. The sneakiness is what makes me giggle - As if being caught munching happily on a treat is tantamount to treason within a cubicle maze. "No! I don't eat at work!" And they toddle back to their seats, where the food will inevitably drift directly to their posteriors... But that's a subject for a different post. Perhaps you could check out http://dearengineerfriend.
But this wasn't just food.
This... was ice cream.
Yes, for this month's Monthly Meeting I managed to wrangle the head honchos into agreeing to an ice cream social for our beloved troopers.
Which was met with a resounding chorus of... wait for it... nonchalance.
Yes, the EngineerFriends I had worked so hard for barely seemed excited at all for the prospective frozen treats.
Eliciting responses for flavors was like pulling teeth. First, I got blank stares. My second response got a chorus of "whatever you get will be fine..."s and by then, I had had about enough. I was going to get Ice Cream, damnit, and they were going to *like* it!
So I bummed a head honcho's credit card (totally liberating feeling... Keep it under $65, and they don't even ask for your signature...) and bought four gallons of ice cream and a basketful of sprinkles and sauces. I toddled back to the office and immediately began rallying my troopers.
"Are you excited for the ice creamy goodness today?" I would ask.
"Oh... sure." was the response at 9:15 this morning.
"Oh! Kind of!" was the response at 10:40.
"Oooh! That's right!" was the response at 12:10.
And finally, at 1:30 this afternoon, I was approached with this whisper of a thought, bordering slightly on hushed concern:
"Will we be eating the ice cream soon?"
With a smile, I said of course, and that there was a small basket of candy bars in the kitchen to tide anyone over who would simply faint at waiting for a whole hour and a half more before the ice cream was produced for consumption.
There will, of course, be some downfalls to this highlight-of-my-week. As I set up at 2:45 for the meeting to begin at 3:00, there will be those who straggle into the kitchen and insist that their bellies cannot wait a moment longer. There will be those who arrive at 3:20 and grumble that the good choices are gone, that what IS there is melted and that they really don't like ice cream at all. But for now... I remain hopeful.
Which was met with a resounding chorus of... wait for it... nonchalance.
Yes, the EngineerFriends I had worked so hard for barely seemed excited at all for the prospective frozen treats.
Eliciting responses for flavors was like pulling teeth. First, I got blank stares. My second response got a chorus of "whatever you get will be fine..."s and by then, I had had about enough. I was going to get Ice Cream, damnit, and they were going to *like* it!
So I bummed a head honcho's credit card (totally liberating feeling... Keep it under $65, and they don't even ask for your signature...) and bought four gallons of ice cream and a basketful of sprinkles and sauces. I toddled back to the office and immediately began rallying my troopers.
"Are you excited for the ice creamy goodness today?" I would ask.
"Oh... sure." was the response at 9:15 this morning.
"Oh! Kind of!" was the response at 10:40.
"Oooh! That's right!" was the response at 12:10.
And finally, at 1:30 this afternoon, I was approached with this whisper of a thought, bordering slightly on hushed concern:
"Will we be eating the ice cream soon?"
With a smile, I said of course, and that there was a small basket of candy bars in the kitchen to tide anyone over who would simply faint at waiting for a whole hour and a half more before the ice cream was produced for consumption.
There will, of course, be some downfalls to this highlight-of-my-week. As I set up at 2:45 for the meeting to begin at 3:00, there will be those who straggle into the kitchen and insist that their bellies cannot wait a moment longer. There will be those who arrive at 3:20 and grumble that the good choices are gone, that what IS there is melted and that they really don't like ice cream at all. But for now... I remain hopeful.
And for now, they just called my name in the lunchroom. Perhaps I should go see what's going on. Sweet afternoons, my ReaderFriends.
**Note: They thanked me! They actually *thanked* me!! For my thought, and my hard work, and my orchestration of this delightful afternoon... Right out in the open, in front of God'N'Everybody... That was weird. Kind... but weird.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Holiday Celebrations
YAY! Another Monday out of the office!
Although it is Monday Noontime Noms day, I think I'll take this opportunity to recoup. (Read: Nothing really exciting happened in the office this week. Outside of the stray giggle, nothing worth sharing crossed my path. Slow and boring, I know... I'm so sorry.)
It's been pretty dull and dreary in the world of EngineerFriend lately. A dark darkness descended upon my Smiles and there were days when I felt nothing at all, much less sunny-sunshines to share with my Dear ReaderFriends.
But NO LONGER! I shall not be reigned in by the doldrums! I will break free and shine my light. *hums* This little light of... No. Not going there.
I think it helps that I've been so busy over the past few days. There have been no free moments to sit and wallow in selfish misery. There has been no downtime to recognize any darkness, much less acknowledge it and allow it to color my mood. Instead, I have been up to my tiddlywinks in busy preparations.
Today was the culmination of the last 36 hours of waking efforts for me as I chauffeured my favorite (admittedly, only) Mumma in a parade. She is the librarian in a small town just a few miles from home (hers... not mine. It's a significant hike for me to get there), and a phone call on Wednesday took my weary weariness and flipped it upside down, shook it until its eyes crossed and then set it back down with a firm warning that, if it didn't get its act together and start playing for the team, it would be given a time-out. And then the work began.
The phone call went like this:
"Hi, Sunny?"
"Hi, Mum."
"Are you going to be able to drive me in the Parade on Monday?"
"Of course."
"Okay, that's good. And by the way, I threw away all the signs you and your sister made last year. It was an accident. I'll need some more."
"Umm... okay."
"And no one knows the theme, so I'm sure whatever you come up with will be fine."
"Right. Lovely. I'm not upset at all at this enormous, sudden responsibility. I have to go pick my fingernails off with a seam ripper."
"Okay. Love you! Bye."
<End of Conversation>
Don't get me wrong. I very much DO love my Mumma. She's the only Mumma I've got, and I would indeed do almost anything for her. (Almost.) But there are times when I'm convinced she doesn't really understand what she's asking, or how much is involved (when she asks her anal-rententive, perfectionist daughter to "pull something together.")
Like telling me mid-work-week that I have four days to come up with an idea for a float, create the posters and banners for the float, and decorate the truck. I came up with the idea for what might work on Thursday, had the time to create the paper products I needed on Friday and started cutting. I worked for four hours cutting things out on Friday night... ten to twelve hours cutting things out on Saturday (I lost track, and took a much-needed grocery shopping break mid-afternoon, because there was no way this project would be finished without the support of my favorite Captain)... and then six hours finishing the cutting and doing the pasting and magnetizing last night.
Which was all well and good. I had some FANTASTIC posters that I was really proud of, but there was still work to be done.
(Unfortunately, I needed another break and decided to go see "Transformers: Dark of the Moon" last night instead of staying in and finishing the extra bits that would have really gotten our communal acts together. Short Sidenote: Dear Alan Tudyk... You are amazing, and incredible, and I wouldn't think twice about having your children. Except that they would be smarter than I am, and funnier than I am, and witty and clever and full of fun... And would probably run me into an early grave. But other than that... You are a god.)
This morning, I awoke early (enough for a weekend, or pseudo-weekend as the case may be) and got myself ready (even had breakfast - that's a big deal!) and zoomed out the door. I screeched into the meeting spot on fumes in my beloved ZoomMobile and immediately went to work. Forty minutes, a more-than-pink sunburn and a hearty wish for water later, and the truck was decorated. "Our Public Library Celebrates the Fifty Nifty United States" was the announcement from each side of the truck. The hood announced opportunities to "Shout Them, Scout Them, and Learn All About Them at Our Public Library." The tailgate touted our patriotism by loudly proclaiming "North, South, East, West (In our calm, objective opinion...) OUR TOWN is the best!" Flags flapped, balloons billowed and one glowing librarian sat proudly on a spare tire in the bed of the truck, waving to children on the sidelines who recognized her for her work at Storytime.
And it was then that I realized all hope is not lost. I may be going through Dreary Darkness (TM) at work right now. My office may be having more tendencies of awfulness than are typically present, and my beloved EngineerFriends may be difficult, but at the end of the day, I STILL can make a difference. Because at the end of the day, it was my effort that allowed her to sit so proudly in that truckbed and wave to her little ones. And it was her wave that brought a smile to a little one's face (even if they didn't get any candy from us, which is really the reason they're there.) So, at the end of the day, my efforts brought a smile to a child's face. And that makes a difference.
(Admittedly, so did the shiny trophy that they handed to Beloved Mumma after we won third prize in the Children's category, after a two-year dry run.)
Now, I must away. It's time to hang up my writing hat, slip into something a little less revealing and a little more SPF-enhancing and go celebrate my freedom of smoked meat, strong drinks and Things That Go Boom In The Sky. This is America, ReaderFriends. It's how we roll.
I hope you have the fantastic-est of fourths! :)
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