March 18, 2009
It’s an emotional and physical off-roading sort of week, so I’ve been uninspired. That was going to be the thrust of the post, but complaining’s not going to help. (Or hasn’t, yet.)
Thusly, we’re going to practice optimism, today, because:
1) it’s Wednesday!
2) I found a highly challenging job listing that I’m a little underqualified for but I don’t care, I want it anyway. And I could do it, if they would overlook the lack of a Master’s degree. Promise.
3) and Sallie’s Niece got the job!
4) so that means it’s not categorically impossible. [No, that’s not logical. Doesn’t matter.]
I’ve been a bit fed up with my doom and gloom. Luckily, I got it all out over at i pick up pennies (thanks Abby!) Not that I suggest you read my rant, please don’t, just visit Abby if you like.
And 5) Crystal is basking in the sun for me via Twitter, never you mind if she’s playing hooky or not. š
Oh! and 6) I’m actually happy about the layoff now. I’m thrilled to be getting out of here, with severance. You see, I have plans for that money.
Edit for accuracy: We still need our official notice but, as long as I stick it out until June 30th, I should be all good w/regards to severance.
And 7) My doctor’s office (HMO) is ridiculously awesome. I emailed asking for an appt next Tuesday am. Got a VM that the doc was not in clinic that day, was asked to call back. I called to schedule for a different day but had to hang up before getting through. Found a voice message on my cell phone, 30 minutes later, saying that I was booked for the day/time I originally requested. Oh and, “you can come any time you like, your actual appointment is X:00.” They must love me. I want to keep them forever.
March 15, 2009
After the hike yesterday, my joints are rather sore and I’m in need of some resting up to head off a major ‘ritis flare-up. Therefore, health day!
The shoulder has been out of whack for a long time, so I’m getting that worked on today. We’ll have a late lunch of cheese pizza and salad, and catch up with some old friends.
The Futility Fund (administered by Vanguard) was infused with the Rollover Contribution, finally. That’s $800+ down that drain. š
I’m still waiting for that last insurance reimbursement check from the credit card company, though. Should call and find out what’s taking them s’darned long this time.
Hope everyone else is having a fabulous day!
March 12, 2009
Under what circumstances would you feel comfortable accepting monetary assistance?
I was recently asked, why, if the benefactor was willing and able, can I not accept help? That question meant monetary help, and that’s a critical difference from all other kinds of help, so that’s the part we’re going to address today.
During a conversation about the economy, the state of my career, and rather justifiable (in my mind) anxiety that I might be flat broke 12 months from the date I’m laid off, this rather potent question was asked. And I floundered in answering.
Because I can’t stand the taste of humble pie? Because I’ve not asked for money since I was 17? Because if I can’t stand on my own, I would still like to have my pride? In this last reason, I’m staunchly my father’s daughter, even despite the grief that’s brought me in his practice of it.
The truth is, it’s all of that and more. It’s that I would only think of myself as “needing help” if I were in truly dire straits. If I couldn’t afford the rent, the bills, the groceries. I wasn’t brought up specifically with this particular insane independent streak, but I’ve developed the mindset that it’s simply unfathomable to think that I would ask for money if I weren’t at the end of my resources. Arriving at that point, however, means that there’s a whole world of guilt and uncertainty involved. I wouldn’t need small sums of money, it’s not just spotting me a tenner for lunch. It’s rent, it’s gas, it’s insurance, it’s big money.
In my personal experience with money and people, you cannot rely on others for your basic needs: you stand or die alone. That’s not true for everyone, though, and I realize that from the outside, it looks like arrogance. (At least one friend has interpreted it that way.) After all, I always step up and help others to the best of my abilities. It may not take the form of cash but it’s still help. How then, do I lack such faith in good people and insist on such isolationist responsibility?
I’m casting about for a better understanding of the mentality that allows me to be liberal in my giving, and highly conservative in my getting. Does this attitude need adjusting? If so, how do I remain true to my bootstrapping principles, while recognizing when it’s appropriate to accept assistance? Or is the second fear, that it’s a slippery slope from asking for help when needed to asking for help all the time, justified?
*Note: One rather astute friend pointed out another way to look at it: if asking for and accepting help is so foreign or unfathomable, then I can trust that I will do everything in my power to prevent that situation from developing. At least there’s that.
**Another Note: Perhaps I’m uncomfortable with having to be on the receiving end of this conversation.
March 11, 2009
Just because the act of writing supposedly helps commit things to memory, or at least to the internet server for later access, let’s make this official:
Life would be easier if I owned a nice little can opener. Not that using the grungy, rust-caked, creaky can opener in our “kitchen” at work will kill me outright, but if a slow death-by-food-and-other poisoning can be avoided with a cute gadget, I’m all for it. And if it can’t be cute, then clean, functional, and RA- friendly are acceptable attributes.
Life would include a heck of a lot more mac ‘n’ cheese, and by default be better, if I owned a cheese grater. It’s just so hard to decide between graters, slicers, grater/slicer, 6 in one graters, etc. They all seem like a good idea. A fine, cheese-enabling idea.
**I’m getting forgetful in my current state of mind: it’s been almost a week and I still haven’t submitted a new FSA claim form for the latest batch of sickie supplies.
March 3, 2009
In the last hour, I’ve:
~ organized my schedule for the week, and pulled together some information for my conference call
~ called aunt/uncle to update and clarify baby shower plans
~ called friend to wish her Happy Birthday, clarified baby shower plans
~ emailed friend to ask her about hunting down her brother, also baby shower related
~ emailed co-conspirator about baby advice book for, yep, baby shower
~ spoke to expectant grandparents about baby shower and baby book
~ locked myself out of my timekeeping system
~ called for help with timekeeping system, no luck
~ called WAMU Investments for my final balance: 778.49 Eeesh.
~ ordered flowers for grieving friend. She just lost her father last week, and her husband was diagnosed with kidney cancer in the same week. There has to be something more I can do for her.
There are still a million things to be done:
~ shopping for the baby shower
~ setting up the templates for the baby advice/photobook
~ collecting everyone’s parenting advice (if anyone has anything to share with a very nervous, expectant mother, I would love to include it!)
~ shopping for the mommy-to-be so she has something that’s for just her, and not All About Baby (I’m thinking of a Sephora gift card, but that’s about all I can come up with unless I can locate a spa near here. Thoughts, anyone?)
~ my educational project needs to be researched and worked on
~ have a meeting with my new tutor one evening this week
~ a class to attend tomorrow, so almost all my work for tomorrow has to be completed today
February 25, 2009
This morning, a group of parents were sitting behind me, and I could hear every word they said.
Dad 1: Boys are easier. But it’s like they’re brain damaged, the things they expect you to believe. I came home last night and my wife sends me to his room which means he’s in trouble. I walk in there and half his head is shaved. So I asked him, what happened?
Son: I don’t know!
Dad 1: You don’t know? You don’t know what happened to your hair? Son, was your head with you all day???
Mom: We had two girls, and when they were 2 and 4, their dad was working nights. He’d come home, put them down for a nap and then take his nap. One day, he’s asleep, thinking they’re asleep, and is woken up by my mom yelling at him.
MIL: Wake up!! The girls were outside!
Dad: What? What are you talking about? They’re napping!
Mom: It turns out that 4 year old had woken her sister up, taken her little backpack, and took her sister outside in a diaper and were in the front yard. My mom used to come by in the afternoons to help him with the girls, so when she pulled up, there they are, standing in the front yard and she freaks out. When she asked them what they were doing, 4 year old replies “We’re going to take the bus, to the beach!”
Dad 2: And Moms never stop, either. I was going to the mountains with some friends, so I called her up to let her know.
She immediately says: Ok, you’re going to need your jacket, and don’t forget some thermals, and ….
Son: Mom, I’m 33 years old. I got this.
Mom: Well, you’re still going to need your jacket.
I’m 48 now, and she’s never going to stop telling me when I need my jacket.
February 24, 2009
Two work lunches in a row: we’re having gumbo today.
I know @mrsmicah got some beads today, (Twitter is so fun!) is anyone doing anything fun?
‘scuse me, I have to go find food because I’m starving. As always.
Linkydoo:
Mapgirl’s got some medical emergency stuff going on, please send good thoughts her way.
SFOrdinaryGirl‘s also got some stuff going on. She’s not mentioned it on the blog, but please send some positive thoughts her way anyway.