Crisis Management Award

Today was the GREATEST day of my whole entire life! Note my sarcasm.

It started with a dentist appointment--which a) I hate, and b) I purposely planned for today because I didn't have any conference calls scheduled. My appointment was at 10:30. At 10:15, Rome fell.

It is not the crisis that occurred that prompts this post, but instead the way in which I managed it with retractors in my mouth, as well as the occasional dental instrument. Have you ever had your teeth cleaned with your cell phone on your ear? Or typed while lying upside down on a blackberry for an hour and a half? Or attended a conference call when all you could do was grunt in agreement (or not)?

That's what I did while trying to hold up the Pantheon.  Talk about feeling helpless. My colleague also happened to be in less than ideal circumstances (i.e. driving to the hospital for family surgery) for managing this situation--together we were unstoppable.  I was fortunate to have good people who knew what needed to happen and took control. Very good thing because I think I wore off half my thumbs with all the freakin' emails and texts I sent. I will never, ever, take a phone call for granted again.

The crisis was peacefully resolved and yes, Rome can be rebuilt in a day. But, my dentist surely hates me and seeing as the inside of my lips are still burning I am certain they did it intentionally. Bet they can't wait to see me again on Friday!

I might just stay in bed.

Restraining Order

Not such the prolific blogger these days. I feel sensored, or restrained, unable to speak from my gut and that is a writers worst nightmare.

I have not been in a good place as of late. While I always speak my mind, I have a fear of doing so publicly because the consequences for my actions would likely be great. Deserved, yes, but at the same time the ridiculousness of the idiocy I am dealing with deserves to be outed. Every. Single. Day.

I have taken to relaxation therapy, because I can't walk around in a Xanax fog the rest of my life (although if socially acceptable, you can guarantee I'd be driving that bandwagon). This type of therapy essentially teaches you to meditate. I was a non-believer. How does one shut off their mind? Unbelievably, I did it by finding a happy place. Seriously, I couldn't feel my hands.

What is (slightly) disturbing, is to get to this happy place I was told to visualize and follow a path. Naturally, my path had have a freakin' fork in it, so I had to choose to go one way or another. I guess I chose correctly, because I found my happy place. It conveniently resembles a 1940's bungalow in the Springlake section of Atlanta.

Morale of the story is, I had to take to other means to deal with the current stress of my life outside of berating the people and things that make me wish I too was born void of common sense, feeling, a brain, etc. depending on the aspect of my life making me ill. Instead, I am limiting my reaction, and trying like hell to not let it bother me.

Tip of the day: "No." is a complete sentence.

Validation

Aquarius Horoscope for Today: 

"Others might see you as less stable than usual, but that's just because they don't understand what's driving your decisions."

See, there IS a purpose to my current insanity. 

Better Place of the Heart and Mind

If you caught my blink and you missed it rant earlier today, you know that today was not a good day for me--on any level. Likely why I am pursuing meditative therapy for range of emotional response. Translation: less freaking out more sanity.

All things were true in my rant--I'm overwhelmed, over worked, over committed, and over emotional. While it felt great to tell it like it is, what feels even better is the place in which I write this post right now. Looking at the things that piss me off as assets and being thankful for them. Sounds cheesy, I know but I highly encourage you put it to the test sometime.

In the brief time that my rant was live, a friend commented to say "you are in charge of your future"--in so many words. Nothing could be truer. Not only your future, but your life. At any point in time you can decide to take control or sit back and let it happen. The key is a balance of the two and the happiest people are those that have achieved it.

Believe it or not, I am getting there. The secret? Love yourself. Be true to yourself and only yourself. I swear, the rest figures itself out. Someone told me this a year ago, and while I wanted to spit in her face at the time, the bitch (whom I love) was dead on. 

Damn, I have some smart friends.

Apocolypse Cometh

At least in Atlanta. And it's not fire and brimstone, but water. Lots of wet, wet water.

On my way home today, I saw four downed trees (leading to road blockage and thus four detours), two accidents and lots of people wandering aimlessly. Seems they were trapped in their neighborhoods and had to revert to old fashion walking. Imagine that.

It's a bit surreal around here. To think that last year this time we were wondering if we would have drinking water for another month and this year we could afford to support the mussel population in Alabama and Florida with our lake water...but we won't, because we like our lakes full. Yes, that's what all the fuss is over with the Lanier lake level. Slimy creatures.

It's expected to rain for a few more days, although more intermittenly. While I appreciate the coziness of rainy days and books on the couch, I read really fast and am running out of options.

Here's to a mini dry spell so our gutters can clear out, our lawns and basements drain and the opportunity to enjoy our full lakes in the sunshine presents itself (preferably Saturday should the weather Gods be taking requests).

Age is a State of Mind

Yes, it is. Although usually, people say this when they feel younger than the number of the birthdays they have accumulated. Me? There are days I am convinced I am much older. In fact, I operate in a state of mind where I am at least 35, and most days beyond 40.

Why is this? I am 32--THIRTY TWO--for the LoG!. I am an infant in the adult world and in no way past my prime. So why do I feel like a washed up woman? Hell, I even LOOK really young...but in my mind my tits are sagging, cellulite has taken up permanent residence on my thighs (it hasn't, for the record), I have a slight case of dementia, and my ability to have children is a distant memory.

Is it the fact that I have worked my ass off for 11 years? I don't have kids, or even a husband, to age me rapidly. Is it because I became an adult at age 6? My ridiculous sense of responsibility?

Maybe I'm just tired. Really, really tired. I've been going and going and going since the day my mother gleefully dropped me off in North Carolina 15 years ago last month. It's time to take the batteries out (with a few minor exceptions) for awhile.

It might be time for a trip to XXI for completely age inappropriate clothing, followed by a night out in a college bar where I can prove to myself that I "still got it". This will be followed by a 6-month sabbatical from work so I can putz around with no responsibility like I should have done in my 20s.

I must find myself again. Not this ridiculous facade of self that has somehow come to be, but the person I want to be, and actually am somewhere under this rapidly aging asshole. The one that is thirty-two, adventurous, funny, happy, and open...to anything that may come her way.

Starting...now.

Today's Total Randomness

Sometimes I

...want to cut all my hair off.

...like to hit people for stupidity.

...wish it was completely acceptable to walk around with a Lortab drip permanently fixed at my side.

...don't understand why people in their 30s and 40s can't write a simple business communication.

...want a puppy brother for Gizmo.

...would like everyone else to agree, that yes, I am right.

...wish I had the balls my boyfriend does.

...want to tell people what I really think, consequences be damned.

...think I'm the crazy one.

...know that I am not!

AFV Moment

Last night I had one of those $100,000 moments--if only we still had our Flip video. Which, unfortunately, was stolen during a car break in at a restaurant in downtown Atlanta. People wonder why we spend more time at the lake.

We decided to take a night cruise on the boat. Holiday weekends are ridiculous on the lake--city people and kids renting (and trashing) wave runners and boats they don't know how to drive make for seriously choppy waters. Nighttime is the way to go.

But in order to get to the dock, you have to walk a path from the house through the woods. During the day, this presents no issue. It usually doesn't at night, either.

Having done this walk countless times and spent several weekends grooming the path over, I took to it sans flashlight and let the moon guide me (romantic gesture, I know). Things were going well until I decided to proclaim exactly four steps from the end of the path that I was proud for having done it without the Maglite.

Not so fast. I walked directly into prickers--a giant bush that is--immediately after the words left my mouth. I mistook the direction of my marker, a tree at the end of the path, and walked right into it.

By the grace of God they didn't get my face and I was wearing long sleeves. I was however in shorts, and my legs look like I have taken up "cutting" in some teen angst cry for help. And this morning, they hurt and itch and I have no idea how I'm going to shave my legs until they heal.

I did suck it up and get on the boat, and the ride was lovely. Just lovely.

Today, I shall be taking it out on the pricker bush which will no longer exist when I am done. If only it was that easy with people that piss me off.

How About Wavy?

I have naturally curly (and currently stripper long) hair. Yesterday, a colleague of mine told me in so many words that people can judge my mood by whether my hair is curly or straight. If I walk into a Monday meeting with curly hair, apparently they know I'm going to be relaxed and laid back. If my hair is straight, it's all business. My straight hair is intimidating too--my "scary bitch" costume.

Did I mention this conversation was with a man?

Anyway, I never thought about this before, but I suppose there is some truth to it. Could it be because I hate nothing more than drying my horse hair--so naturally I am much more serious when straight (and don't straight and serious go together)? Or, because I wear it curly at the lake on the weekend and am entirely relaxed at that time that the curly hair mood is a subconscious thing?

Whatever the case, you should know my hair has been straight for a week.

Watch your back.

My Favorite Facebook Status Update

(Anonymous Name Here) THIS TRAILER PARK SUX!!!! PEOPLE NEED TO GET THEIR FACTS STRAIGHT B4 RUNNIN THEIR TRAP!!!! BECAUSE I BELIEVE IN KARMA,WHAT COMES AROUND GOES AROUND!!!!!!!!

I am just going to leave this one alone.