Welcome to my wonderful, terrible, soap opera sit-com world.
Saturday, February 26, 2005
... or a LEGO girl, as the case may be.
Lovingly, sweetly, adoringly whored from Amber, I present to you Build Yourself In Legos.
Okay, so I left my skin yellow - I'm a traditionalist. A very cute idea that all of you should go play with! Now! Go play!
Friday, February 25, 2005
Yesterday, I basically worked on-and-off from 6:30am to about 7:30pm.
I did work for three different clients and was pretty strung out by the time the day ended.
Today, I basically worked straight-through from 7am to noon.
I did work for two different clients, and was just freaking thrilled that I didn't have any more work to do today.
So I went and napped on the couch for two hours.
Now I want to eat something, but not something I want to cook, something someone else wants to cook for me, which means I have to wait until S. wakes up since he got home at 6:30, but he's off until Tuesday now, which means we might actually get to go out to eat.
Maybe I actually just want a beer. 3:42p.m. counts as beer-thirty when your work day is over at noon, right?!
Do you believe in faeries? The fey, in general, all types? And if you do, do you have any that are "with you," that live in your home or near your home? Do you acknowledge them?
Just a question to weird-out the non-believers and stir the brains of the believers, on a Friday morning. Speak up!
Thursday, February 24, 2005
TO BECOME AMAZINGLY PISSED OFF IN AN ALARMINGLY SHORT
AMOUNT OF TIME
My husband's work schedule, partnered with my work schedule:
Sunday midnight: S. goes to work.
Monday 6am: S. comes home and goes to bed.
Monday 6am: I get up.
Monday 7am: I start working.
Monday 3pm: I'm hopefully done working.
Monday 3pm: Wake S. up.
Monday 3:30pm: S. is mostly awake.
Monday 5:30pm: S. leaves for work.
Monday 10:00pm: I go to bed.
Tuesday 6am: S. gets home and goes to bed.
Tuesday 6am: I get up.
Tuesday 5:30 pm: S. goes to work.
Wednesday 6am: S. gets home and goes to bed.
Wednesday 6am: I get up.
Wednesday 5:30pm: S. goes to work.
Thursday 6am: S. gets home and goes to bed.
Thursday 6am: I get up.
Thursday 5:30pm: S. goes to work.
Friday 6am: S. gets home and goes to bed.
Friday 6am: I get up.
Friday 5:30pm: S. goes to work.
*smacks self on forehead*
Christ on a cracker, this shit fucking sucks. I cannot WAIT until the shop gets back to some type of normal staffing. THIS FUCKING SUCKS BIG PURPLE DONKEY COCK.
Remember the nasty-ass bulldog people?
I'll refresh your memory. The idiots who have a 45 pound bulldog in a 25 pound-and-under apartment complex who don't like to keep him on the leash because it's a pain in their ass, so instead they'll let him shit everywhere and not pick up the dog crap, AND let him run up on and get aggressive with other peoples' dogs?
Yesterday while Boomer and I were out after the rain, he wanted to go "that way" (read: over by their building, which we almost never do) and oh my god, I saw the most nasty-ass white-trash complete bullshit gross fucktard asshat thing I've ever seen in my entire life.
We walked past their patio (ground floor apartment) which faces the walkway, and there on the patio... was dog shit.
Okay. So not just one little turd... MULTIPLE piles of dog shit, some of it old and dried up. On the patio.
That's fucking disgusting. They're so fucking lazy they can't even pick up dog shit off their own goddamned patio.
So then Boomer takes two steps into the grass just past their breezeway and almost steps right in a HUGE pile of bulldog-sized dog shit, which was old enough that it was grey and starting to decompose... couple that with pouring rain, and it was a sludgeball. A stinky one.
I yanked Boomer away from it and took a couple more steps... more dog shit.
We went around the corner... more dog shit.
There was basically a hopscotch of dog shit, a dotted-shit-line, from their breezeway all the way to within ten fucking feet of the dog shit bag dispenser.
Fucking fuckwit fucktards.
I couldn't stand it, I went back to the office and told them about it... the manager came out with me and we walked over... to see the fucking health hazard that is the freaks in that apartment... she couldn't believe it. Then she asked me if I had seen the bulldog lately, and I told her no I had not... turns out the management told them to get rid of the bulldog (I can't decide if it was destructive and hurt the apartment, if it attacked someone else's dog, or if they actually "got caught" because the dog was fucking twice the weight limit of the apartment complex) but told me if I see the bulldog I should let them know, because she "had to almost go clear to the Commander of the Base to get them to get rid of the dog." Which means they're military, and were deliberately breaking the rules.
SO anyway... they were going to put a note on that couple's door to... my god... clean up the DOG SHIT FROM THEIR OWN FUCKING PATIO.
I'm sorry. Going on three walks or more a day with my dog isn't always my favorite thing in the world to do. Sometimes, it's a pain in my ass. Sometimes, I want to be out in the weather even less than the dog does. Sometimes, I don't want to have to put on jeans at 9:30 because I'm getting the evil eye and he thinks he has to take a turd. But I do.
I don't let him out onto my patio to take a shit or a piss (if that dog is shitting on the patio, it's pissing on the patio). I don't walk him out the breezeway without stepping onto the sidewalk or grass, ask him to do his thing and then bring him back in. I take him out, give him some exercise and some one-on-one attention, jog a little, skip a little, get him all excited and happy to be out. Gotta let him have the experience of checking the Pee Mail and finding out what's going on in the neighborhood, you know.
If you can't take care of a dog the way it needs to be taken care of and you're too fucking lazy to pick up the animal's shit, then you shouldn't be allowed to fucking have an animal.
(they have another dog, a little foofoo dog, in addition to the bulldog that they might not have any more).
Fucking fucktards. People like that piss me off.
I'm on a roll today, apparently.
Sometimes, doing my work pisses me the fuck off. Not because I hate working, because I don't. But because of the things I hear on the tapes.
Sometimes, I transcribe recorded statements for car insurance companies. You know, like if you get in an accident or your car is stolen and they phone you up to get "your side of the story." So I listen to these conversations and transcribe them.
I do work for two large insurance companies - one is what you'd call a "budget" company and one is what you'd call a "mainstream" company. The way they handle their claims can be very telling and very different.
This morning I am listening to a recorded statement of a lady whose car was stolen. She is Hispanic, a single mom, whose car was stolen. This is for the "budget" company.
It never fails to amaze me. I mean, there are things you have to ask, okay, there are things they need to know. I've been doing this for long enough to know just about exactly how the questioning is going to go.
But this adjuster that's talking to this lady, he's a fucking asshole, and it's pissing me off. Here's this single mom, Hispanic, and she got her car stolen, and he can't stop harrassing her... first he asked her what all her monthly bills are (to suggest that she had the car stolen herself, to get out of paying the debt) - then he asked her if she was behind on any payments, which she said she wasn't - then he told her (because he didn't believe her) that she should call the company who's financing the car to see if they repossessed it because "if you're behind on payments they'll come repo it" - then he made her feel absolutely like an idiot for the (very human and normal) circumstances behind the theft of the car... now he's harrassing her because she only had one set of keys, which were in the car at the time of the theft, and he "can't understand" how someone would only have one set of keys for their car - what if she lost the keys? Then how would she get in the car? When he asked her how many miles were on the car, he had to have a five-minute discussion with her about why in the world she would buy a car that had over 100,000 miles on it.
I'm sorry, I've just got to say if this was a middle-class white guy and his Acura Legend instead of a lower-class (full-time factory worker, $7.75 an hour, going through a divorce, five kids that live at home) Hispanic woman in her little used car they wouldn't be giving them this kind of bullshit.
I just hate stuff like this. People are amazingly judgmental, and it pisses me off.
Sometimes, I think my wonderful pets are too dumb, or too smart, for their own good. Witness:
Walking The Dog In The Rain
Me: Let's go potty.
Dog: POTTY POTTY POTTY LET'S GO LET'S GO
Me: Just let me tie my shoes.
Dog: Let's go out out out out out let's go let's go c'mon let's go
Me: Almost done with my shoes, can you sit?
Dog: sitting going potty sitting potty sitting okay not sitting potty potty potty
(go out the door)
Dog: Hey. It's raining.
Me: Okay, let's go.
Dog: That's wet.
Dog: We're half way down the stairs, isn't this good enough? Let's go home.
Me: Come on, let's go, you have to go potty.
Dog: That's wet. Oh, man, jeez, that's wet.
Me: C'mon, let's go.
Dog: I'm wet. Let's go home.
( - lather - rinse - repeat - for 5 minutes - )
Dog: I'm wet. Let's go home.
Me: Okay, let's go home.
Dog: Home! Home we're home home home home let's go inside we're home!
Me: Just let me dry you off.
Dog: Gettin pretty, I'm a pretty dog, gettin dried off.
Me: Good boy.
( - give it ten minutes - )
Dog: Maybe if I stare at her long enough, she'll take me out potty.
That's my dog. So full of love there's no room for brains.
And then there was THIS little conversation this morning:
Me: *slaps alarm clock*
Cat: Feed me.
Cat: Feed me. Feed me. You're up. I see you. It's time to feed me.
Cat: Feed me. Go feed me a can. Feed me. I need a can of food. Give me food.
Me: *walks to the office*
Cat: Aren't you going to feed me? Here, I will flop on the floor in front of you and make squeaky noises to remind you that you have failed to feed me.
Me: *checks email, tallies work for day*
Cat: If I rub my face on your feet and poke at the back of your chair with my paws, will you feed me?
Me: *starts coffee*
Cat: You're in the kitchen now. Feed me. Feed me. Feed me. Give me a can of food. Feed me. It's time to feed me.
Me: *takes out garbage*
Cat: After you do that, are you going to feed me? Feed me. Feed me. Feed me.
Me: *pours coffee*
Cat: Feed me. Feed me. I will tangle myself in your feet in the hopes that you'll feed me. It's time to feed me. I'm going to die without a can of wet food even though I have an endless bucket of dry food. I desperately need that can of food. Open a can for me. Feed me.
Me: *gets in pantry*
Cat: You're going to feed me!
Me: *opens can*
Cat: Hurry! Feed me faster!
Me: *dumps can into food bowl* Here, here's your can. Come eat.
Me: *throws cat food can away and returns my attention to coffee*
Cat: What was that? *jumps up to the food bowl, sniffs it*
Me: *stirs coffee*
Cat: Oh hey, that's cool, thanks for the can. I'll come back later and have some. Right now, I'm going to lay in the hallway where the light makes a little patch on the carpet, ok?
I love my animals. I love my animals. I love my animals.
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
So I'm seriously considering either starting up another little blog just for food and linking it through here, or blogging here about cooking and food a little more often. Thanks for all the positive feedback.
Now that S. has gone off to work and I'm settled down with a glass of wine, I have to rant about two little things.
First one: I flaked out on yoga today because since yesterday was a "holiday" I got my weekdays all fucked up, and went to the gym this afternoon. So I was tired and sweaty when it was time to go to Yoga. Fuck. So I didn't go. Fuck.
Now. Second of all, there's something that's making me a little bit depressed, and so I'm just going to vent it here. So let me be excessively extremely clear... if you are a friend of mine in Real Life and this has anything to do with you, I love you dearly and I'm not angry or hurt or resentful or anything. I'm just a little sad, and that's fine, and I'll get over it, but I need to get it out. Ok? Still love me? Good! Because I still love YOU!
It's about cooking and entertaining.
Cooking is therapy for me. I don't know what it is about standing in the kitchen for a couple of hours assembling a meal. If I have to stand in LINE somewhere for two hours, or if I have to stand up at work for two consecutive hours w/o taking a load off my feet, I get cranky and typically my feet hurt and I resent having to stand up for that whole time. But when I'm in my little kitchen taking no more than one or one-and-one-half steps back and forth, and I'm cooking, and chopping, and dicing and blending and pureeing and straining and stirring and roasting and frying and and and and and... I love it, and the time flies by, and it's absolutely therapeutic for me. And there is no better feeling in the world, for me, than to feed my culinary creation to someone and have them tell me it was fabulous or amazing or everything they thought it would be, or even "*burp* This is damn good, baby."
I'll take it.
When S. was away at school Jan-Feb-Mar of last year, I never entertained. I holed myself up in my house and "nested." My house ended up being a catastrophic mess of laundry and junk and crap from one end to the other. I ate a lot of take-out and convenience food. I did not cook. And I was an emotional distraught mess because of it.
When S. came home from school I threw myself into cooking for him, but eventually the time constraints took their toll and we were eventually back to lots of take-out, and my emotional health suffered in the process.
When we moved out here to Oklahoma, I threw myself into being Happy Suzy Homemaker, and part of taking care of hubby and household was cooking. So I had a ritual, and every day at about 4pm I'd start cooking, and we'd have dinner by 6 or 6:30, and I planned out the menus, and I'd wash the dishes when we were done eating while S. took the dog out for a walk, and then we'd settle in for the evening. And I was pretty goddamned emotionally stable and felt pretty okay.
Then I started working, and S. started being on these cattywhompus schedules, and things just kind of... went downhill from there.
Now, let me reiterate. I fucking love to cook. I love it. I could sit online and browse recipe sites all day long. If S. wasn't with me when we went to the Commissary, I would not only come home with way more food, but I'd come home with lots of new and interesting things AND I would probably spend two hours in there just reading labels and oohing and aahing over stuff. I'm a foodie. I love food. Good food. And I cook good food. I come from a long line of great cooks. And I, myself, am a fabulous cook.
When I was in college, Sunday night used to be Family Dinner Night... I would invite all my friends over to the house and we'd roast a chicken or have some kind of other intricate wonderful meal, and I would fall all over myself serving them and setting and clearing plates and being the Hostess With The Mostest. Bring it on.
And now we're here in Oklahoma and S. is on these schedules and circumstances don't allow me to entertain.
Sometimes, I think about making a big pot of soup or a huge pan of lasagna and just going to the neighbors on my floor and asking them if they want some, just to feel like I'm cooking for someone or 'entertaining' or hosting or whatever. It's something I so very desperately miss.
It's not that we don't have friends here, we have some wonderful, amazing friends here. But sometimes it feels like we're the only couple on the block without kids. And having kids makes it harder to get out, and it makes it harder to go to someone else's house, and it makes it harder to get together with the couple without kids. The other day S. got all excited and came out to me and said, "You know what? We should buy ZOMBIES!!! (the game) and we should get ahold of J and S and K and S and see if there's a Saturday night they could come over... we could play games and have dinner."
I thought that was a fabulous idea, but knowing that J and S and K and S have kids, I thought I'd give as much notice as possible. What was discussed - which makes perfect sense and is very logical and I'm not complaining about it per se is that it's much easier to get the three couples together at one of the households that has kids, because then there's less to think about. Trekking across town with kids, I can understand, can be a headache - plus strange environment - plus we aren't very "kid friendly" here in terms of having toys or anything for them. So the verdict was yes, we should get together, and yes, that'd be a lot of fun, but we should do it at someone else's house. Wonderful J even went so far as to tell me that it was nothing against our place. I know that. I knew that. But I was grateful that she went out of her way to tell me that.
But. Now I'm here alone at home on a Tuesday night (fucking Tuesday, god damnit, it's TUESDAY! FUCK!) and I'm about to go in the kitchen and make myself a big veggie salad and park my ass in front of American Idol. And I'm feeling lonely. Not in that "don't have anyone to talk to" way. Just in that "would love to have an actual friend over to my house and show them how much I appreciate them" kind of way.
I miss hosting.
I'm sure I'll get a chance to do it some time soon for someone. I'll get it all figured out. In the meantime, I'll just dream about cooking a big pan of lasagna or a huge pot of vegetable soup or something with enough leftovers to feed an army... but not having any leftovers because I already fed one.
Okay. I'm going to watch Idol now.
Now that I'm getting back into the wonderous world of cooking, I've been batting around the idea of starting up another little blog with just recipes and food on it. Now this isn't the best thing for a recovering eating-disorder gal to do, but I just wanted to say I've been considering it.
Either that or this blog is going to little by little be populated with stories of wild and wonderous meals I make (like red chile stew, or shrimp gumbo (last night), or homemade vegetable/chicken soup (Saturday) or you know, whatever-the-hell else. I just love to cook, love it, LOVE IT.
Do you guys mind hearing about the cooking I do? I can either start my own little blog about it or maybe I can talk my friend Donna into letting me onto her recipe blog, or something if there's no desire for it here.
I just freaking love to cook, and I'm so lucky that my husband is adventurous enough with food that he loves to eat what I cook.
I want to go back to the Asian store, actually, and get some of the stringy crunchy seaweed that you make seaweed salad out of, so I can make some seaweed salad.
What was I saying?
Oh yeah. Food. You dig?
Shamelessly whored from Mikey. The things in bold are things that apply to me, or rather, things I have not done.
I’ve Never Kissed A Member Of The Opposite Sex
I’ve Never Kissed A Member Of The Same Sex
I’ve Never Crashed A Friend’s Car
I’ve Never Been To Japan
I’ve Never Been In A Taxi
I’ve Never Been In Love
I’ve Never Had Sex In a Public Place
I’ve Never Been Dumped
I’ve Never Done Cocaine
I’ve Never Shoplifted
I’ve Never Been Fired
I’ve Never Been In A Fist Fight
I’ve Never Had Group Intercourse
I’ve Never Snuck Out Of My Parent’s House
I’ve Never Been Tied Up
I’ve Never Regretted Having Sex With Someone
I’ve Never Been Arrested
I’ve Never Made Out With A Stranger
I’ve Never Stolen Something From My Job
I’ve Never Celebrated New Years In Time Square
I’ve Never Gone On A Blind Date
I’ve Never Lied To A Friend
I’ve Never Had A Crush On A Teacher or Professor
I’ve Never Celebrated Mardi Gras In New Orleans
I’ve Never Been To Europe
I’ve Never Skipped School
I’ve Never Slept With A Co-Worker
I’ve Never Cut Myself On Purpose
I’ve Never Had Sex At The Office
I’ve Never Been Married
I’ve Never Been Divorced
I’ve Never Had Sex With More Than One Person Within The Same Week
I’ve Never Posed Nude
I’ve Never Gotten Someone Drunk Just To Have Sex With Them
I’ve Never Killed Anyone
I’ve Never Received Scars From My Sex Partner
I’ve Never Thrown Up In A Bar
I've Never Taken a Hallucinogenic Drug
I’ve Never Purposely Set A Part Of Myself On Fire
I’ve Never Eaten Sushi
I’ve Never Been Snowboarding
I’ve Never Had Sex At A Friend’s House While They Were Throwing A Party
I’ve Never Had Sex In A Dressing Room
I’ve Never Flashed Anyone
I’ve Never Met Anyone From Online
Hmmmmmmmm. Makes me seem kinda like a goody two-shoes, but that's probably because deep down, I am.
Sunday, February 20, 2005
Sorry I disappeared on y'all.
Let me see if I can catch everyone up on my busy, busy life. *snort*
Thursday I got done with work, went and laid down, slept until S. had to go to work, got up for a while, ate some soup, went to bed, laid ear-down, and heard a kind of a squishy splorpy noise in the down-ear, the bad-ear, which then felt a lot better. As best as I can tell, the memory foam pillow which locks in heat, was helping heat up my ear and some of the sinus gook in there got liquidy enough to actually move.
So I woke up on Friday feeling pretty good, came in here and worked my ass off until about 3pm... but at about 2pm, the LEFT ear, the OPPOSITE ear, started feeling like someone was sticking a fucking ice pick in it. So. Regarding what I did on Thursday night... on Friday, lather, rinse, repeat.
Except that S. got to come home at 8:30 and tried to surprise me but I was already in bed, and didn't much want to get out of bed, because I still felt like shittycaca. So, he did his thing and I did mine (sleep, drool, snore) and we got up Saturday morning with neither of us wanting to do ANYTHING.
Let's see, what else happened. Watched a couple of movies, I made some great homemade soup (just the thing for sickies), we went out to lunch at a little place up the street that we love (spinach salads rock the house), we went to PetsMart to get kitty litter and shit bags (there's a theme) and then since every. fucking. idiot. was out and driving on Saturday, we figured we'd better hightail it home.
This morning I made orange zest and cheese stuffed french toast, bacon for my honey, and some scrambled eggs... when asked "what's the occasion," all I could come up with is that I like to cook, and it's like therapy for me, and now that I have my new pans I want to take full advantage of them. Oh! I can cook FOUR pieces of french toast at one time in my new skillet. If I weren't already married, I would marry my new skillet.
We went to the Commissary, but not before I did a happy dance to find a pair of jeans that used to be uncomfortably-tight are no longer such, and are in fact a little bit baggy in the ass! YAY BAGGY ASS! We picked up foodstuffs for the week, I'm currently simmering a made-from-scratch Mexican red chile (in my new skillet, because I fucking love my skillet) (yes, I cleaned, soaked, pureed, strained, blended, and otherwise fixed up dried guajillo chiles for this) and S. is up the street at the carwash. All the windows are open here and we're letting the nice breeze come in - it was 75 degrees again here today. Thank you, God/dess.
We decided that when the weather is springtime and pretty like this a lot more often than sporadically-between-ice-storms, we're going to take every chance we can to get out in the car and take some mini-day-trips and see the state of Oklahoma. My camera desperately needs to be used to take some beautiful pictures.
Now, here's a poll:
I want to take a vacation.
Last year, in June, we went to Las Vegas for our "honeymoon" (six months after we got married). It was a fabulous trip. I want to go on another vacation but I can't decide what I want to do or where I want to go. I don't want it to be rustic, I want it to be fun. I don't want it to cost a gajillion dollars, but if two of us could go for 5-7 days for under $1500 total including air fare or car rental and lodging, that might be doable. If we could do it for under $1,000, it would most definitely be doable.
I need to go on vacation.
Many moons ago I went on a cruise, and I loved it. LOVED it. But I was also about 60 pounds lighter than I am, I didn't mind wearing formalwear, and counting deposits and everything it cost me and my then-husband about $2,500 for a week in Mexico. Don't get me wrong, it was fabulously amazing and I want to go on another cruise. I just don't want to 'have to' dress up for dinner, and I don't want S. to "have to" dress up for dinner, and I don't like the formal-ish aspects of it.
I'd go to Mexico, but I'd like to do that when my dad's there and available to spend some time, and his house isn't finished yet so that's right out.
Does anyone have any ideas?? ANY ideas?? We're considering Vegas again, but I have to start pricing some flights from the podunk OKC airport to Las Vegas. I wonder how much it costs...
Wine me and dine me with your best vacation ideas!
Thursday, February 17, 2005
I have an earache.
This might mean I am getting a congested sinus thingy like my hubby has had.
This might also be due to the fact that not yesterday, but the day before, I was smacking on the right-side headphone because the sound was cutting out, and I might have just hurt it.
Because yes, I have days where my amazing intellect overflows into every aspect of my daily life, and I inadvertently injure myself as a result. It's a gift.
I've put some peroxide inside there and let it fizz and bubble for a while; anyone else have any ideas? Oh, I've taken some Ibuprofen and some sinus medicine, too, just in case. I have to be careful what meds I take because it might interact with my other medication.
So, any natural remedies would be appreciated. Lemme know! It can't be something that involves me wearing cotton in my ear or anything, as I'm working and have to be able to hear the lawyers drone on, or the car accident people swear that their light was, definitely, green.
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
Shamelessly stolen with love from Jenny.
I AM: finally at what feels like a stable point in my life.
I WANT: to get pregnant.
I HAVE: an amazing husband.
I WISH: I had a little easier time getting into shape.
I HATE: Liars.
I MISS: All my friends in Arizona.
I FEAR: heights.
I HEAR: S.'s computer and the server next to mine with all his fucking fans in them sounding like a jet plane.
I SEARCH: Google
I WONDER: who wrote the book of love?
I REGRET: Not a whole hell of a lot. What's the point?
I LOVE: My husband, my dog, and my cat.
I ACHE: for hubby when I'm trying to get to sleep and he's on overnights.
I AM NOT: easy on myself or accustomed to failure.
I DANCE: once in a blue moon.
I SING: every chance I get.
I CRY: more than I'd like, but I'll blame it on the hormones.
I AM NOT ALWAYS: able to focus in the face of stress.
I WRITE: a lot. Aren't you reading what I write?
I CONFUSE: myself sometimes, early in the morning before my coffee.
I TASTE: coffee.
I NEED: to lighten up, chill out, stay confident, and take more time for myself.
So, let's be clear. I'm an intelligent girl. I know my way around my own checkbook and bank accounts and all of that. But let me tell you what, I am thanking God/dess today that I have a fantastic accountant, because this year's taxes are going to be a CLUSTERFUCK.
Uh, let's see. Got married. Had a job. Quit the job. Had a side business, turned it into my only business. Some income in Arizona, some income in Oklahoma. Same for hubby, income in two different states. Sold a house. Donated to charity. Christonacracker, is there anything that happened this year that does NOT affect doing our income taxes?
I've been bombarding the poor man with questions, because when I send all this stuff off to him I want to make sure it gets directly to him and he doesn't need anything extra.
If I rent, can I take the office deduction? What about the months I didn't have the office ready-to-work-in, I should not count those months, right? What if I worked for someone but they didn't send me a 1099, I still will claim all my income, right? What counts as an asset, and what counts as a business expense? What about work I billed in December but didn't get paid until January? On and on and on the questions go, and him always with the fabulous and wonderful answers to same.
So, I think I am just about ready - FINALLY ready - to send off my tax paperwork to the accountant. I've never MAILED this kind of shit before, I've always hand-carried it, so this is creeping me out a little bit and I think I'm going to send it FedEx or something so I can track it. And I'm only sending COPIES of things if that's at all possible, but some stuff just has to be originals, you know?
Look at me, getting my panties in a wad over taxes. Deep breath, deep breath, deep breath. Shit on a shingle, I've got to learn to calm down.
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
That's my boy John Mayer there in the title line, y'all. w00t.
Okay so. Resolutions.
I have decided I'm going to make some 35-Year Resolutions. Not New Year resolutions, but 35-Year Resolutions. Things I want to take moving forward in my life and see if I can follow through with them, so they can enrich my life.
So here they are.
I want to continue to simplify my life, so we can complicate our life with children.
To that end, I am not going to be a workaholic.
I want to become better at separating work from personal, so I don't beat myself up so much over work.
I want to start cooking even more, and even healthier.
I want to continue working out at the gym 3x a week and keep going to Yoga.
I want to keep losing inches, and try not to keep track of the pounds, since that's behaviour that can get me into a lot of trouble.
I want to be the best friend I can to all of my friends, whether they're real life friends or new blog friends or old blog friends or whoever they are.
I want to continue to be a person of integrity and continue to be known as same.
I want to make my order of ingredients for the incense so we can get back into making it and hopefully get the website up and running.
I want to cut down on personal stress.
I want to sing more.
I want to find a way to make any time I have with my husband "quality time."
Um, okay, that's it. Anything else I can think of right now is stuff like, "I want to have more sex" and "I want to eat more sushi," which are rather hedonistic resolutions to make.
I just thought I'd spit this blurb out there and get it "down on paper" so I can review it every now and again. Thanks for being so patient with all of my random whims.
Monday, February 14, 2005
Nothing says lovin' quite like beautiful red roses and baby's breath in a gorgeous vase tied with red and gold ribbons with hearts on them.
I love you, baby. Thank you.
In honor of Valentine's Day, I thought I'd take this quiz - shamelessly whored from Robin.
I don't know if I should be proud that I scored low?
HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!
Sunday, February 13, 2005
Okay, so it's not summer. It might as well be. It's 70 degrees here right now (what the fuck?!) and I've got windows open and blinds open and fans running airing out this apartment and taking full advantage of the fabulous weather. I couldn't have asked for a nicer Sunday!
I know I haven't posted pictures yet, I've been too lazy to dig out my camera. There, at least I said it! But I can try to recap some of the birthday festivities for you.
First of all, thank you to the folks who were kind enough to send an e-card to me for my birthday! And all the amazing comments and emails and IMs. Thank you all, you made me feel really special.
Shanna sent me FLOWERS! I love you too, sweets, thank you for 'hanging out with me' on my birthday and for the gorgeous purple petals.
From my mom, a $150 Target gift card so I went over to target.com and purchased the five-quart high-side sautee pan with glass lid AND the three quart nonstick sauce pot to go with my KitchenAid anodized aluminum nonstick pots and pans! Sis sent me a very cute shirt and some perfect picture frames. S. also gave me a very adorable little white teddy bear holding a picture frame. My nephew sent a valentine for us and wrote his own name and drew his own pictures on the card. Yay!
My dad? He didn't even call me or email me. But that's all right. It's not like I was expecting it or anything.
S.'s mom and dad gave me a gift certificate to Bath and Body Works, which I am going to gladly and completely and totally use.
Overall I made out pretty good gifts-wise on my birthday. But I think the best present I got out of anything was being treated to an "anything you want baby, it's your birthday" dinner of sushi and all the fixins, coupled with him sitting across the table with me and paying attention to (nay - HANGING ON) my every word... followed by a speech about how wonderful I am and how happy he is that I am his wife and how much he loves me.
Can I turn 35 every day?
I also got to talk to some friends from Arizona who called me, and missed all the good people back there a whole lot.
Saturday was an interesting day... went out and about. Found a grocery store (thanks, Kae, for the tip) that had good Latin/Hispanic ingredients so I can start cooking my favorite food(s) again. We were also going to go back to the Asian market, but haven't made it there yet. Went to a Pagan study group meeting last night which was fabulous and made some new friends (and looks like, got some new customers for the fragrance biz). Had a total blast hanging out with all of them.
This morning, got up late as is normal on a Sunday, fought the crowds at the Commissary, which is normal on a Sunday, and came home. S. isn't feeling very well so I'm kind of devoting my time to taking care of him.
I still can't quite conceive the fact that I am taking tomorrow off. I'm having trouble fitting that concept in my head. About right now I would start sighing and stressing that I'd have to get up early tomorrow and work. Me! Workaholic! But it's true, I do start to stress myself out about work early in the weekend. But not tomorrow! Tomorrow I will stay home and I will do whatever the hell I want, and I will cook all day if I want to, and I will have a great Valentine's Day OFF. I need to do this for myself a little more often.
Actually, I plan to get all my tax paperwork I've been working on for a while now, together, and send it off to the accountant. That'll be my biggest project tomorrow. YAY!
So anyway, how are all of YOU guys doing??
Friday, February 11, 2005
I'm 35 and trying to be happy about it! Thank you everyone for the wonderful birthday wishes and general well-wishes.
It really, truly means a lot.
And now, I'm off to the gym to sweat, to the nail salon to get 'em polished, and then probably back here, you know, to do the crap that needs to be done around here. heh.
Thursday, February 10, 2005
I am on vacation!
Finished up with my work for the day and it's only 11am. I'm feeling kind of excited about that. So now, I am officially on vacation.
I am going to spend the first afternoon of my vacation trying to finish laundry and cleaning the kitchen and stuff.
S. is sleeping the day away as he worked from 6pm last night until 9am this morning, so I'm just staying out of his way.
And then tomorrow's the big 3-5. So I should probably try to get myself ready for that.
As if I could be...?
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
1) Yoga kicked my ASS. I am very sore but it's a really good feeling. Needless to say I won't be going to the gym today, I will round out my "3x a week plus yoga" on Thursday and Friday. I will also get extra "points" at the gym (incentive program) for exercising on my birthday.
2) S. got Friday off! Woo hoo! Yay, birthday with the hubby! What are we going to do? Who the hell knows, but I won't have to worry about him going anywhere.
3) One of my clients, who after all the haranguing I told just not to pay me, has decided that $150 is fair for what I did (and that's $150 more than I expected to get from her) plus another client who I've been worried about sent me a big fat check. So I have to look at it this way: If I end up having to refund, at least partially, the unhappy customers, then at least that's something I'm capable of doing. I'm going to sock that money away for a while and pretend I don't have it, in case I have to negotiate later. It's a poor way to be able to look at it, I admit, but at least it's something that makes me feel as though I'm doing the right thing and doing right by my customers. I don't have to like them and they don't have to like me, but I'd rather they feel that the transaction was fair (aside from them, you know, just not paying me for work I did).
4) I'm adjusting my workload yet again. Taking on new Spanish-language customers is not only adding lots of stress to my life, but it adds hours to my work week. A lot of hours to my work week. So, I am going to continue to do my Spanish work for existing customers but I'm not going to take on any new Spanish work, at least not in the meantime. When you couple the added hours and additional stress with the fact that it seems like most all of my "new" Spanish customers have been high-maintenance and a pain in the rear (having me bid on a project one way, then submitting it to me another way; leaving me hanging for a month, then asking for the job to be rushed in two days; etc.) I think I would rather focus on doing the steady work I get from my daily clients plus a little extra non-translation work here and there to round out my day. That way I'm done by 2pm or 3pm at the latest, can still get to the gym, do a load of laundry, make dinner, take out the dog, et. al., and not feel like I want to die.
5) I have to remember that this job was meant to be a "part-time job." And this "part-time job" has really turned into some serious work, man. Oogh.
That about sums up where things are. Yoga was great, I'm sore, I love it, I have work to do, and since I'm not going to the gym this afternoon maybe I'll take a nap afterwards. :) Yay for Wednesday.
Monday, February 07, 2005
Shamelessly whored from Donna:
Things change around here faster than the Oklahoma weather, I tell you what.
S. went to the eye doctor today and guess what? He gets to get contact lenses! He's been a glasses-wearer for a really long time, but sometimes the USAF is hesitant to give out contacts. Right place, right time. S. is going to get a prescription for contact lenses, and his new glasses have also been ordered.
This is great for S., as he's been wanting to get the contacts now for a while.
This is sad for me, because Rosie makes passes at boys who wear glasses.
I think handsome glasses on a handsome man is sex-ay. SEXAY. Rawr.
So, now I'm all looking at him funny and shit because he's wandering around here without any glasses on. How am I ever going to get used to it?
He says he'd be happy to buy a pair of non-prescription clear glasses just to keep the home fires burning, but I assured him he doesn't have to do that. I just wish I could have it both ways. *sigh*
In other news, just got home from the gym. As half-assed as I did the gym in the month of January, I lost a number of inches from around my flab, which you can see in the sidebar. I'm going to keep a running tally. I'm actually really excited about that. If I can do that 3-4 times a week and still go do yoga with Wonderful Non-Blogging Kay, that should keep me in plenty good shape.
Well, I just got some tax forms in the mail so I figure I should finish getting it all put together so I can send it off to the accountant. You all have a wonderful night, now, you hear?
With an S.A.T. score less than zero.
I wanna try to drink my weight in beer-o.
I wanna be a highschool football hero.
I wanna score a touchdown so I can score after the game.
I don't care about my future 'cause it is just another day.
I'll rush for forty yards and drink four forties later on.
I'm done with this brunette someone pass me another blonde.
Coach tells me to drink my milk and wash it down with 'roids.
I've gotta get my rest so I can party with the boys.
My brain is upside-down, so I'm just a little slow.
I'll change my name to Bubba so that everyone will know...
--"Highschool Football Hero," by the fine punk band AFI.
The SuperBowl sucked.
I am not your average chick. At least not when it comes to football. I'm not a diehard rabid football FAN anymore necessarily, although I've been involved in my fair share of it. It all started with my strange fascination with the Oakland Raiders, because dirty football is entertaining football, and the Raiders rule, and I love them, even if they suck.
Add to that a football-rabid ex husband who talked me into being part of the coaching staff for his pop warner football team for four and a half years, and that gives me a little extra insight over many chicks. I figure, since we don't PLAY football, necessarily, that means that we probably don't always know the ins and outs. Whatever I didn't know BEFORE we started coaching kids, I certainly learned afterwards in terms of strategy and the like.
So. Even if I didn't have the benefit of the football coaching knowledge, I would have to tell you that Philly hardly showed up for the game last night, and they deserved to lose even though I'd have rather seen them win...
... but it certainly doesn't mean New England played a good game or anything. How hard do you have to play against a team who doesn't bother to DO anything? I mean shit on a shingle, people, when there's four minutes left in the game and YOU HAVE THE BALL and you're midfield and you're ON A DRIVE and you're down by ten points, I'd highly recommend getting your asses in fucking gear and getting back to the line of scrimmage, instead of dallying around in a huddle just so your QB can feel like he's contributing something to the massacre.
They had to have wasted at least a full minute, probably closer to a minute and a half, by trying to catch balls that should have been allowed to hit the ground first to stop the clock, by huddling when they shouldn't have had to... it was a wreck.
I'm still not sure how they got that touchdown towards the end there, but they should have had PLENTY of time to get within field goal range. They could have done it, but for whatever reason, they gave up.
And that meant they deserve to lose, because giving up sucks. Especially when you're paid as much as they're paid to play a game and throw a ball.
Blah blah blah, Dynasty my ass, blah blah blah.
And considering this is the first and last football game I watched this year because I am basically disillusioned with professional sports... um, yeah.
Sunday, February 06, 2005
This weekend has certainly been an interesting one.
S. and I joined Vidardottir and Donardottir and their families for some lovely Korean food and some fabulous conversation, and a good laugh. It was really nice to get out of the house and was worth every penny. Couldn't have asked for a nicer Saturday night date, unless it involved me getting laid afterwards. *cough*
This comes, of course, after we were up until 2:30am - S. and I, that is - getting tipsy and playing games on the internet and cracking one another up laughing.
And it comes also after I had a good conversation with an old friend via IM not long after I had "opened" the "Bar". She said something that really struck me, and it was probably something I needed to hear in This The Week Of Rose Hating Herself.
She told me that she's still reading my blog and that she finds it uplifting.
That's the word she used, too. "Uplifting."
This gal and I knew one another when we were both gung-ho for the world, and we were going to conquer it and be on top of it. She was Super Business School Marketing Queen. I was International Commerce Spanish Language Corporate Girl. And somehow, we made time for boys and booze and going out dancing and going to the gym together and hanging out and gossipping and all the other things that girls do. Shit, we even traded clothes.
And you know, as things in my life started to change - bad marriage - slow turn in the career track - being in a rut - I'd think of her from time to time and picture her in a power suit and sitting behind some big desk telling people what to do and having the world on a plate.
Turns out her life's taken its own twists and turns also.
Which leads me to my current situation. I'm in love with one of the most wonderful men on the planet. We're in a new place doing new things. I've started my own business and am on the road to planning a family. We're financially stable and we're making new friends, we're exploring and connecting with our spirituality. We're growing by leaps and bounds. We have everything we need and most things that we want.
And yet, something inside me aches from time to time.
I have always had this twisted sense of what made me a good person. I've always had a twisted sense of what made people want to be around me, or what gave my life worth and value.
When I had a bunch of jobs in a row that while they paid well were stress-driven balls of anxiety that fucking sucked moldy ass, I had a hard time figuring it out. Because I would do great things - I would do what was asked of me and more - and then twisted, evil bosses would either try to make me (and everyone I worked with, not just me) look bad or tell me to re-do it even though there wasn't anything wrong... I had a bunch of those passive-aggressive asshole types while I was getting established in my career. I think we all have to go through it. It's part of that corporate ladder thing.
And then I was a divorced 32 year old with debt, and no children, and a job I hated, and little or no furniture, and two dogs and two cats and some friends I'd see on the weekends, but basically no life. And I hated myself. I hated just about everything about me - ask the friends who were there to see me through it. If it weren't for friends like Maury and Kristina and Ross, who whether it was on the phone or over IM or in person tried to lift me up and keep me focused on things, I would have just been a wreck and frankly might not even be here today.
And you know, at that time I would have thought it'd have been better anyway if I just wasn't around any more.
Then I met S., and things started to turn around for me. It's not that I didn't have love in my life in the form of my friends, but for some reason I was able to start to see myself the way S. saw me. I was able to start to see those things in me that allowed him to fall in love with me. I carried myself a little differently. I started standing up for myself at work. I found a new, better, fabulous job. I expanded my base of friends. I started being more social. And I started to love myself again. As my job expanded and I got better at it, and I got compliments there, I substituted how my co-workers felt about me for how S. felt about me. If things were going good at work, then I was doing great. If they weren't that great at work, I'd start to beat myself up. Then when it came down to us moving and me quitting my job, I started into a spiral. Because my career was my self-worth.
When we got here, I threw myself into taking care of us as a family and found some self worth again and S. was so grateful for everything I was doing and I started to like myself again. And then my business was growing and I started to like myself even more, because you know, pocketing a couple grand a month on top of managing a household, that's a pretty good gig if you can get it. And then I started working nights and weekends when I didn't want to, because my self worth became less and less reliant on the household and more and more reliant on the paychecks.
And so here's the way I've buried myself. I have consistent clients and work every day, enough work that if I wanted more I could always get more, but I'm busy ALL DAY. These are clients that pay me absolutely consistently and are phenomenal and wonderful. And I love them and they love me and everything's good. And then I have a couple of clients that have unrealistic expectations or haven't been clear in what they wanted, who have expressed some disdain at the situation, and what do I do? I take them, the Negative Nancys, and I try to wrap my brain around whatever I did to hurt or injure them, why I'm such a bad person, what makes me so terrible, I must suck, I'm truly terrible at this, why does anyone bother to hire me, I need to just quit doing it altogether before someone else doesn't like what I'm doing...
Okay, now for a reality check. I've been doing this job for like, going on 15 years. That's a long fucking time. And I'm GREAT at what I do, which is why everyone wants me to do work for them. Which is why I have so. much. work. I'm good at it. And if in 15 years I've had two clients that aren't happy with the work I've provided for them, then that's within their rights - they are after all the customer - and it's within my right to decide that I just don't want to work for them any more, if they even bother asking me to work for them again. And if they don't pay me, then I'm out what they didn't pay me, and in the long run that's okay too. This is my first year of doing this in a volume so large, and live and learn. Be more picky about clients.
But for some reason - whether it's PMS or it's depression or it's seasonal affect or it's weight loss issues or it's working too hard or too long or schedule changes or what-the-fuck-ever, for some reason I'm choosing to see THOSE things that people who don't even know me want to think about the WORK I did for them, not who I am as a person... and reflect that on my own self-worth because of the work they wanted me to do.
That's kind of fucked up.
I've been doing some soul searching and am getting that figured out. You know, sometimes it takes me a while to wrap my brain around something like that.
So where was I going with this?
That while I was wallowing around and having a drink and hating myself and feeling lonely and totally blah, an old friend of mine decided to tell me that I am "uplifting."
And then I pulled out a greeting card that I got from the Wonderful Amazing Succulent Kara back home in Phoenix, and re-read that she checks up here from time to time too and loves to read it.
And then I started to re-evaluate some things. My life's pretty good. I'm doing pretty good. I have a husband that adores me which is a blessing beyond words or any monetary or any other value. It's just the most amazing gift I could possibly have. And if I only get to see him a few hours a day, maybe that should just make those few hours a day even better.
And I am NOT a failure at 35 years old because I haven't had my children yet. I'm figuring out that it's not about WHEN you start your family. It's about what you do to nurture and care for your children and love them unconditionally, and maintain a cohesive healthy supportive family unit. And S. and I want the same things in our family, so knowing that going in pretty much ensures we're going to have that kind of a bond that we both want so much for us and our kids. So if it takes me another year or two to get this family started, that's going to be okay because it's going to be a QUALITY FAMILY. There are lots of people out there who start having kids young(er than I am) and don't have the life skills to hold a family together. I'm ahead of the game in that respect. So, I am now looking forward, happily, to the family prospect again.
And I am NOT a failure at 35 years old because I have a business where the occasional client is unhappy. That's the nature of a business. You can't make everyone happy all the time. So as long as I do quality work and keep my clients coming back to me, then I shouldn't get all freaked out about the occasional naysayer.
And I am NOT a failure at 35 because I've been once-divorced, because I am now twice-married but to the most amazing man ever.
And I am NOT a failure because I don't have a "real career," because my new full-time job is being a USAF Wife and supporting my husband in the things he has to do, and if that means adjusting things around so everything can be put into better perspective, that's what I have to do.
I re-read what I just typed here and I wonder what's crawled inside my head and died to fill me with so many stinky nasty thoughts about myself lately. I'm sure it's all hormones and everything else, plus the fact that for some reason... coming down the pike to 35 years old, I am really having a rough time with it. Now please, if you are among my wonderful friends and readers and are over 35, do not take offense to the concept that I think 35 "sounds old." I remember when I was younger, 35 seemed ANCIENT. I just have a lot of "I thought I would have (fill in the blank here) by the time I was 35" thoughts (since I am an anal-retentive planning Aquarius who needs to know her next twelve fucking moves before making the FIRST next move) and now that I'm going to be 35 in a few days, there's just a lot that seems so unresolved. 35 seems old to me. Older, anyway. I didn't have the "midlife crisis" thing when I was 30 years old, I welcomed 30 with open arms and jokingly called myself an "old fart."
But today, I'm starting to feel a little bit like an old fart.
Which is in all honesty probably why I need to hurry up and have a baby. So I can start reveling in the joys and life of my little ones, and stop wondering if it's "too late" for me to do any given thing at any given time.
So, to sum up. Husband good. Life good. Most clients good. Some clients bad. PMS bad. Bad bad bad.
*sigh*. Tomorrow is a brand new day. Again. And the day after that, and the day after that, and the day after that. I'm sure I'll get it all figured out sometime. In the meantime, I just need to go one day at a time. One minute at a time if possible.
Yes, this is why I have a blog. So I can lecture myself and tell myself to pull my head out of my ass, and remind myself that I'm a good gal.
Isn't that why everyone blogs?
Friday, February 04, 2005
I am going to follow the lead of the lovely Joelle and declare that it is officially Happy Hour.
The bar is open.
I just happen to be the bartender and the bardrinker all at the same time. In the name of all that is holy, I am so glad this fucking week is over with.
UPDATE: The pomegranite martini is a gift from God. Pome-Tini. It's a Cosmopolitan but with POM brand pomegranite juice instead of cranberry juice.
I dare someone to IM me. I totally dare you. Because I'm loose lipped, and that sinks ships, and I could use a fun conversation. So if you can catch me before the hubby gets home, knock yourselves out. What the hell else do I have to do?
Besides make another martini?
A little Smiths there to perk up your Friday morning. Thank you, I'm here all week.
Okay, so here's the thing.
I can't be - and when I say "I can't be" I mean I CAN NOT BE - all things to all people.
And no matter how much I wish it were different, I can't fix everything, and I can't make it all work out "just right," and I can't take the bad and make it good.
Sometimes, we just have to live through it. Sometimes, the frustration is part of the journey, and the journey is the most important thing.
So maybe, today, if I manage to get through this day and get my work done, and perhaps get out of here and go to the gym later, and pick something nifty to make for din-din, and get my head to rest on a pillow at a reasonable hour, I will wake up on the weekend and find that I've been able to put the week in general behind me and can look forward to other good things.
Thursday, February 03, 2005
I dare someone to find a song lyric about a week sucking ass for the title of this post.
Sometimes, the Air Force sucks ass.
Sometimes, having your period sucks ass.
Sometimes, working really hard and being really tired sucks ass.
I'm just pissed off, in general, today.
Found out that because they are shorthanded, S. is going to have to take his shift from swings to 6pm-6am until they get more people trained (lots of folks leaving, moving around, and going TDY and stuff right now) and the regular dayshift is going to go from 6am to 6pm. Joy. So much for having quiet dinner hour together. I guess while this is going on, I'll be grateful I work for myself and will just get up at midnight to have dinner or something, who knows?
At least I'm done beating myself up about that one client, but I still have headaches and cramps, I don't know what to make for dinner, my laundry is CLOSE but NOT QUITE done yet, and the weather outside is gorgeous. Which means I should get the hell out of here and go to the gym or something, but my cramps are damn near crippling me right now so I'd much rather just go sit on the couch with a heating pad.
Shit, who am I kidding? I'd much rather just go to bed at 3:45p.m.
But instead, I think I am going to dish myself a little green tea ice cream and sit on the couch and watch some trashy court TV since I haven't seen any in a while.
I'm pissed off that S. has to be on overnights and I'm taking two days off next week, my birthday and Valentine's Day. So at least we'll get to spend the DAY together on my birthday and the DAY together on valentine's day, but my fucking Saturday is going to be all shot to shit and the weekend will be all cattywhompus.
Suck my ass.
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
God, today sucked.
I got up this a.m. and had to come back in here to proof files. Whoops, let me back up! She said. As if it were something to be fucking excited about.
I got an email from a client of mine yesterday asking - nay - telling me - to "re-proof" a Spanish translation I had done for them.
This doesn't often happen, so I was quite frustrated and wondered, both silently and out loud, "WHAT MORE DO THOSE PEOPLE WANT FROM ME, YOU CAN'T SQUEEZE BLOOD FROM A TURNIP."
The original recording was an interview with two women, and they occasionally cracked up laughing or spoke on top of one another which made it quite difficult to hear during the overlaps. I thought they were unhappy with the number of "overlaps," and wanted me to re-check to see if I could squeak something else out of it.
So I begrudingly got that all ready to go and started listening to it... and I was like... "How the hell did I translate THAT here? What the hell did I think they said THERE?"
Now, a backtrack: A little over a week ago, I had a pair of headphones that took a raging shit. So I went out and got new headphones, and they didn't fit right on my head and they were uncomfortable, and I couldn't adjust them.
Those were the headphones I was using to work on that project.
I have since switched to alternate headphones that fit my head and my ears, and make it much easier to hear. But apparently I was having a much fucking harder time hearing than I gave the 'new' headphones credit for, and it was reflected in the translation.
So I had to write an apology to the client with the resubmitted revised file, and hopefully they'll consider me for more Spanish work since I've done translations for them before and have had no issues. I just couldn't believe that I had heard some things wrong, couldn't make out who was speaking, et. al., on a brand new pair of headphones. Fuckers. I'd throw them in the garbage, but S. has claimed them as his own. Apparently, they fit his head and don't fucking make his ears hurt.
So this morning I worked for my 2 daily clients and then spent another hour proofing and groveling and resubmitting, at which point I had a MASSIVE headache that may have been brought on by the intense workout I had last night (was feeling a little sore and dehydrated). So I went to lay down on the couch after having some lunch and S. went to work and I woke up at 5:00pm.
Still with headache.
I know, I know.
So anyway, I spent most of today being pissed off and frustrated, and thinking, "I can't do this Spanish stuff any more, I should just do English stuff, it's easier, it's less stress, it's less work for me, I don't have to think as much while I do it." But what kind of a solution is that? If this client continues to put their trust in me (my other project for them is "on hold" pending the revision, so we'll see) then it's good because it's good money and down deep it is something I like to do.
Sometimes I just wonder.
You see, working hard and having stress because of it (both of which were things I did NOT WANT TO HAVE TO DO and that S. does NOT WANT ME TO HAVE TO DO) also means I am letting shit slide around the house, and that don't go over very well around here. NOt with S. - well, with S. but he'd never say anything - but with me.
When it's 6pm and I'm making dinner and I'm just fucking tired, and there's 2 baskets of laundry to be folded and I don't want to take the dog out and all I want is a hot bath and a glass of wine and to go lay the fuck down, there's something seriously wrong with me. Maybe if balancing out my work life and my home life means I take on less Spanish work and focus on my English daily work, maybe that's what I should do.
I don't know.
I'm just confused, and I'm feeling kind of like a fucktard today. And it's cold and I don't want to take the dog out because although it is curently clear and crisp, it's still fucking cold, and I still have a headache, and I have PMS, and/or MS (without the P), and I'm just feeling over it.
Fuck a duck.
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
1) Worked my ass off.
2) Did laundry.
3) Went to Yoga.
4) Picked up dinner on the way home and had like, two bites of it.
5) Watched American Idol.
6) Sipped on Strawberry Soda.
7) Am now sitting in front of the computer proofing files and NOT having a nice glass of wine. Bah.
8) Took out the dog into the sleet and snow (again, huge snowflakes) and he hated it so much we went about 20 feet and he turned around to come home. He's still licking himself trying to get all of the snow off.
Yesterday was Ethnic Food Night at the Rose and S. household. After making a quick run up to the base for cheap gas and a quick ATM deposit, I asked if we could head over to the Asian Grocery that had been recommended to us by a couple of locals.
We walked in and were overwhelmed with the smell of... well, it's just how a good Asian grocery smells. The combination of an oceany-fresh fish smell plus seaweed and exotic spices filled our noses, as we wandered the (completely crammed) aisles.
First, we had to find the seaweed aisle, because I wanted some Wakame to make soup with. Or at least to add to the Asian soups that we periodically eat. Wakame is a type of dried Japanese seaweed that you see a lot in miso soup and other brothy Japanese soups. It's amazingly good for you, frighteningly delicious, and very easy to handle and store. So we had to get a bag of that.
Then, we saw a brand of Instant Miso Soup that we hadn't had in a while, so we picked up a bag of that. I was unable to find it online.
I picked up a bottle of Sriracha, probably one of my most favoritest hot sauces. evar. EvAr. I freaking love this stuff on all kinds of different things. A little bit goes a long way. It's not as garlicky as a nice Sambal can be, and it's not chunky like that, either. It's just a smooth addition that adds a nice kick. Yum. Since there's a rooster on the bottle, we've taken to calling it "Cock Sauce." I lurrrrrrrrrrves me some Cock Sauce. Ahem.
S. picked himself up a tub of pickled Sushi Ginger because he loves it with just about everything. What a find!
And then you can't do a good shopping trip without some desserts... An Asian favorite of ours, Pocky, which we are used to getting at the Commissary, consists of pretzel-like biscuits dipped in a candy coating of various flavors. At the Commissary we can get "regular chocolate" and "strawberry" Pocky. But here? There was half a fucking AISLE devoted to Pocky! Dark/white/milk/mousse chocolate. Banana. Almond. Strawberry. Strawberry with PIECES of strawberries on it. Coconut milk. Green tea. You name it, they had it. So we came home with Almond Crush Pocky (with pieces of crushed almonds on it, duh) and regular Chocolate Pocky and also some Chocolate Orange Pocky, which is going to be my favorite. That's a good combo for me, chocolate and oranges, yum.
And then... on the way out I was so happy and surprised to see they had a small freezer case piled high with various varieties of Green Tea Ice Cream. So we had to pick up a pint of THAT too, and bring it home for a nice sweet bite every once in a while. If you have never had Green Tea Ice Cream, I have to totally recommend it to you. It's a delicacy, it's sweet and refreshing without being heavy, it's truly amazing and wonderful.
After that, we went up the street to the little Thai restaurant and had some fantabulous meals. S. had Thai Sweet & Sour Shrimp with so many different kinds of vegetables in it we couldn't count them all. I had Squid with Hot Basil Sauce, complete with onions and peppers. All of that over a bowl of Thai Sticky Rice, and I was in heaven. Oh, and the spring rolls, which when made right in a good Thai place, rock the fucking house... especially with that mysterious sweet-tangy-spicy wonderful Thai dipping sauce they always bring you.
Whoof, all this talk about my Thai dinner last night is making me want my leftovers, but I think it's a little too early to wake my stomach up with something like that. I was sweating and my nose was running by the time we left there last night. It was fabulous.
Made it home in time to watch Trading Spouses, and I would like to say that the New York mom is a psychotic freak. And now I wish it were Tuesday again so I can watch the polite hard working Farm Mom give it to her right up her obnoxious ass.
Yeah, still PMS'ing. Bleah.
My job as a military wife is
to make it as easy as possible
for my beloved husband to do his job.
Where he leads, I will follow.
Husband: SSgt, USAF
Current Location: Tinker AFB, OK
Job: Self-Employed Transcriptionist
and Domestic Goddess
I am currently pimping:
me @ consumating
I play Everquest II!
Iksar Necromancer, Kithicor
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