Tag: Life

Humor, Life, London, Work October 5, 2012October 5, 2012

More of the Same

“Even boredom has its crises.”
– Mason Cooley

There’s been more than the usual amount of radio silence here at Small Dog Enterprises. We’ve had a few shifts around at work which has meant short (if any) lunch breaks and coming in early/staying late. And as lunch is when I do a good portion of my writing, you can see how this leads to a general problem. Never fear, this is (supposedly) a limited issue and hopefully a replacement will be found for the cad who’s departure left us in the lurch – looking at you, Off. Lampost!

The long and short of it is that I’ve taken on all police front desk area work so my workload has at least doubled. The irony of it. I’ve been asking for more things to do since about the time I started here four years ago (Sidenote- gack! Four years! Time to go) and I’m sure there are any number of quotes to the effect that Providence punishes people by giving them exactly what they ask for.

But also, as per usual for this time of year, I’m feeling stuck again. I think Autumn is so wrapped up in my head with new changes, projects and challenges that when it rolls around and nothing changes significantly, I start to get antsy.

I am ready to move on. I’ve come to appreciate this job, as much as I like to grouse about it, because it has taught me to work. I thought I knew what work was when I graduated university – four years later I look back on my younger self with a headshake and a, “Oh, honey, just you wait.” But now that I have some applicable skills under my belt, I want to do something with them besides just answering phones and puncturing helicopter parents when they start to swell up because their beloved child got in trouble. I’m nervous to look for work again, but oddly excited too.

I am ready to live somewhere new. I grew up moving so much that staying in one place for too long makes me claustrophobic, and I’ve now been in this corner of the world for longer than I’ve lived anywhere. It would be going too far to say that I hate it here, but it’s not an exaggeration that I could never set foot here again and be perfectly happy. I stayed for J., and I’ve never regretted it for one moment, but that doesn’t mean I won’t gleefully drive away and never look back.

I am so ready for us to be a two income family (apparently the term for that is DINK – dual income, no kids. I’m not sure I’ll categorize myself as such, though) and not stuck in this quasi-student exsistence.

I cannot wait to be back in London, where you can’t be bored or stiffled if you tried. The weather may be terrible, the rent may be high, the practicalities of life might weigh, but there is always somewhere to go, something to do, places to just be. You’ll never run into the same person twice (as opposed to where we are now where the vast majority of the population seem to be clones of one another, albeit in a more futile than frigtening way). And there is always something to explore.

I am ready for change, ducklings, and so these days, with their oppresive Sameness are just a bit more smothering than usual.

So! How do you get through the boring bits? Clearly this isn’t a life skill I’ve properly developed, which is why it’s such a handy thing to have lovely minions to interrogate. Share your thoughts and recommendations, Aunty C. needs them.

same20old20same20old — Jupiter Ammon! My worst fear incarnated!

Humor, Life July 3, 2012July 4, 2012

Scene of the Crimes

“I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”
– Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

It’s been a busy day prepping for the Fourth tomorrow, so here are a few smidgins of evidence that we’re alive, kicking and living it up. Yeah, I know. I’m shocked I thought to take pictures too…

The other groomsmen and myself from Flyboy’s wedding. My dress was still too big after alterations, but tis the life of the petite female. It wasn’t my wedding, so who cared about my dress! Weddings are a lot less stressful when they aren’t your own. Those guys were charming, by the way. Flyboy clearly knows how to collect good friends (*wink).

We live in a notorious marriage mart of a town, but clearly things didn’t work out typically for this gentleman… And apparently he has very cruel friends or relationships. Snagged this sad gem in a local parking lot.

Heading out to my car for work this morning, I was startled by a roaring sound above my head. It turned out to be a low drifting balloon from a local July 4th festival (which apparently happened on the 3rd). Believe it or not it was much lower to start with, I had to scrambled in my purse for the camera a bit and the balloon had risen by the time I fished it out. These were all over the sky this morning.

That’s, um, not a cloud. Half of the country is on fire, in case you hadn’t noticed, and apparently so is the city a bit up from us. We’ll keep an eye on this one, I think.

Humor, Husband, Life, London, Travel July 2, 2012

Weather and Whining

“Henry, I’m tired.”
“Sleep then.”
– The Lion in Winter

I can’t talk about Saturday, kittens. Let’s just say the travel gods are fickle and leave it at that.

J. and I spent yesterday, our anniversary, in and out of fogs. Up late packing, up early to the airport left us in quite a state. We both fell into unplanned naps throughout the afternoon, watched some movies, and I taught J. how to play Rummy and he trounced me at it. Romantic? Not particularly. We’re delaying our celebration until we’re in London in a week.

Sidenote: a week! Life needs to slow down, I’m tired!

weathermap — Also, the weather gods seem to be in a mood. We need to throw a virgin into a volcano or something.

Friends, Humor, Life June 20, 2012

Road. Trip.

“Half the fun of the travel is the esthetic of lostness.”
~Ray Bradbury

J.’s suitcases are still spread all over the house, but we have to pack up again and head out of town first thing tomorrow morning. I’m sure we could claim the title of jetsetters, but I think the more accurate term is hopelessly lazy and rushed.

We’ll be reporting to you from the American Southwest for the rest of the week, where the temperatures are going to be in the triple digits. It is very possible I may not survive the weekend. J. took Atticus golfing for Father’s Day and came home sunburned (Britain having paled him considerably over the past nine months), a nice prelude to our probable fate. Apart from getting Flyboy married, the goal is to try and take some pictures.

Family, Friends, Humor, Husband, Shopping, Weekend June 18, 2012June 18, 2012

Monday, Ho!

“Ahh, what a day! Up at 6:00, a 10-mile run in the sleet, and NOW a big bowl of plain oatmeal! How I love the crazy hedonism of weekends!”
– Bill Watterson, Calvin and Hobbes

I indulged this past weekend, minions. I may have overindulged, in fact!

thumb23805-shopping — Let’s burn plastic and worry about doing penance on Monday.

I’ve had a self-imposed shopping ban in place for months now, saving up for a major shopping trip, and I finally took it. Woof. There was carnage, kittens. And then I went to a movie and dinner with my godfamily to round off my weekend of hedonism, because between weddings and assorted craziness we haven’t been able to play as much lately and that needed to be rectified.

Now the Small Dog clan is going on austerity measures until the holidays – Germany would adore us.

J.’s back in town tonight, permanently, no more cross continental marriage! And immediately I drag him to an out of state wedding this weekend, we have another godfamily dinner at the start of next week, I head out to the Flyboy’s Wedding Part Deux in Louisiana the Saturday after, and the next day is our three year anniversary. Life events are like buses, none come for huge stretches and then they all come all at once!

Home, Life June 13, 2012

Alive (and sort of kicking)

“Catch, then, O catch the transient hour; Improve each moment as it flies.”
– St. Jerome

Alright, piglets! Recap of the past week and a half and a preview of coming attractions. Picture Grace Kelly saying it looking slinky and fabulous in some serious 1950’s night gear, believe it or not it ties into recent events:

I hurt my knee exercising and lazed away on the sofa for days afterward. Immediately I gained forty-seven pounds (approximately) and since my gym classes are currently on break for the week, I am rediscovering exactly how bad I can be at self-motivation once a habit has been broken. But you don’t judge me, do you minions?

My in-laws took me out for a birthday lunch last Saturday, which as usual I managed to complicate. It was at a venue I’d never been to before on an area of road that has recently received a major overhaul and is a bit hard to navigate. Nevertheless I followed the signs only to find the whole area (consisting of shops, open farms, gardens, museums, and other family friendly dittos), was overrun by a Scottish festival. The nearest parking was along the road and a half hour’s walk to the main buildings. I wended my way through many a kilted man wielding a broadsword shouting in horrendous fake-Scotch (mostly quoting Braveheart), only to discover I was in the wrong area and the bistro was actually located a couple of miles away in separate gardens – and, of course, I’d misplaced my mobile the day before. Luckily a very helpful lady at the information center called up the bistro and I was able to enlist Atticus to come rescue me. I didn’t live it down for the rest of the day, but frolicking with my nieces and nephews did much to lessen the smart of ridiculousness.

The smart returned when I found my mobile later that day. In the trunk of my car.

The construction of the highway interfered again when I went to Margot’s bridal shower last night – and it took me over an hour to take what should have been a twenty minute trip. Also, I was the only one who showed up with a Victoria’s Secret bag – almost everyone else brought kitchen gear – with the exception of Margot’s sister who also brought something silky and scandalous. Thank goodness! I don’t mind being a scandalous friend, but for heaven’s sake I had only barely met their mother!

J.’s last final is tomorrow and he’s coming home on Monday! At which point I will have to relinquish the half of his closet I took over…drat. On the other hand, I won’t have to do dishes anymore, huzzah!

Margot gets married this Friday, Flyboy gets married over the two weekends after that – two out of state parties in a row. Note to self, get nails done at some point.

My landlord should be checking out my plumbing today, which would be much more exciting had we not first asked them to look at a few problems back in March. In the meantime an empty bucket has been living under my bathroom sink to catch the leakage, and my patience is long dead.

There, you’re all caught up. What have you been doing with yourselves, ducklings?

Family, Life May 10, 2012May 10, 2012

Death Be Not Proud

“Unable are the loved to die. For love is immortality.”
~ Emily Dickinson

Death is funny to me. Not funny ha-ha, funny strange. I don’t have a lot of experience with it, most of the deaths that I have been connected to have had the buffer of one or two degrees of separation.

As a child, the only death I remember was my grandfather’s when I was eight or nine. I felt badly, I remember crying when my mother told me, but feeling oddly detached at his funeral. The truth is I have never been extremely close to either set of grandparents or my extended family (extenuating family issues, coupled with the fact that growing up we were seldom on the same continent for more than a few days at a time). My grandmother was (understandably!) distraught, and my mother was unbearably hurt, but the distinct memory I have of that day is feeling scared that I didn’t feel sad enough and wondering if something was wrong with me.

The trouble is that as I’ve grown up, death has become more and more frequent. In this last year alone I’ve mentioned a few, but sitting back to run the tally, I’m a bit taken aback. I have been vaguely connected (second and third degrees of separation with friends and coworkers) to three suicides, three automobile accident deaths, one passing from old age, two accidental deaths, and worked on two death cases at work. It’s everywhere. And I’ve felt as oddly detached from all of them as I did to my grandfather’s.

I wonder if this is because I’ve never been touched directly by death. I have absolutely no idea how I would feel if either of my parents passed away, probably as if part of the ground had suddenly fallen away from under me. If any of my siblings died I suspect I’d feel something beyond rage and pain – they’re kids after all, they aren’t supposed to die (even though I know kids die everyday). Gio nearly drowned once and the sensation I felt was terrifying panic and corrosive guilt (I was his big sister and I hadn’t been paying attention to him when he went swimming in the deep end of the pool – I’d actually told him to leave me and my friends alone. The next time I saw him he was being pulled from the water, blue and lifeless. That horrible feeling has never left me). If J. died… frankly I’m not sure where I’d be. He teases me that he needs to die first so that I have to clean up after him and deal with the damage, I counter that he’s being a rotten selfish punk to leave me to do the emotional heavy lifting, and he comes back with, “You could handle it. I couldn’t.”

I’m sure he means this as a testament to my personal strength of will (or something), but the first time he said something like that my first thought was, “Great, even my husband thinks I’m emotionally stunted…”

The funny (not funny ha-ha) thing about death to me is that life keeps going for those you leave behind. Standing still has never seemed to be an option to me for survivors, and yet I have seen people brought to a crashing halt from personal loss and pain. I have no idea what that must feel like. I have no idea if my attitudes and detachment from death stem from genuine sangfroid or lack of personal experience, but either way I know exactly how lucky I am never to have been put in a position to find out. Most people have casualties behind them. I’m still waiting for my first massive personal loss, and just hoping I’ll be able to bear up and keep going when it does.

*Many thanks for your kind words towards my brother-in-law’s family. Many of you are able to speak from a personal and authentic place that is truly compassionate and experienced. None of us get out unscathed, and I think the only true balm is the wisdom and care of friends.

Humor, Life, Work May 1, 2012

Tuesday Trials

“You can’t help respecting anybody who can spell TUESDAY, even if he doesn’t spell it right; but spelling isn’t everything. There are days when spelling Tuesday simply doesn’t count.”
– A.A. Milne, Winnie the Pooh

Upstairs neighbors have a pipe burst.

Spent lunch hour (and then some) cleaning up the damage of said pipe burst.

Now have to stay after work tonight to make up for the time spent cleaning up said damage.

Car needs a hose repair.

Did an hour of zumba and an hour of spinning last night – therefore can’t walk properly.

Scrambling to get all work assignments done (despite burst pipe) because I’m going out of town to visit my brother this weekend (which of course isn’t a trial at all, but in the light of other recent events is now significantly more complicated).

Still have to wrap a present for a couples shower tonight for Drill and Trixie, and pick up an ordered veggie platter.

And to top off today’s police news: bee swarm descends on campus – chaos ensues.

bee-swarm_8581 — Because this day isn't weird enough.

Humor, Life April 24, 2012April 24, 2012

I Am a Dandelion (or, Indulge Me In Some Existentialism)

“In a real dark night of the soul, it is always three o’clock in the morning, day after day.”
– F. Scott Fitzgerald

Today, feeling sick, stressed, tired, and lonely, I went to the Oracle, otherwise known as Peregrine (fourteen years and she hasn’t steered me wrong once). Taking her advice, after I left work I went into the mountains to be alone for a bit, to think and emote.

It was invigorating to get angry about being separated from my husband – up to this point I’ve tried very hard to put up a good front and be cheerful about the whole thing, but anyone whose ever done it will tell you it’s exhausting. Thinking about job hunting, the economy, and the singular ability for the firm we want most to hear from to stretch the hiring process into more than half a year, I felt a flood of fear and anxiety. Thinking about my two bedroom flat empty but for me (Margot having moved to her place of soon to be wedded bliss), and all my friends who now like scattered along the Eastern seaboard while I’m stuck in the West, I indulged in feeling very lonely and left behind. Reviewing my life plans and realizing how little I’ve accomplished compared to what I wanted to by this point, a clutch of panic squeezed me. Thinking of what I’ve accomplished and gained instead, gratitude put in a welcome appearance. A host of other slices of me put in cameo roles too – shame, jealousy, disdain, longing, hope, happiness, and a whole lot of frustration.

About an hour later, feeling very worn out (and if I’m truthful, a bit peckish), I made it home. My problems weren’t smaller or easier to deal with, much less completely gone, but on the way I drove by a small grassy area completely overtaken with dandelions, and looking at them I suddenly felt better.

I love dandelions. I know I’m not supposed to, no one is. I’m supposed to hate how unkempt they look, how neglectful. I’m supposed to be irritated at how hard they are to kill and how annoying they are at making more of themselves. I am supposed to find them messy, irritating, and ugly.

But I don’t. I love them for all those reasons. I love their cheerful, almost vulgar indestructibility. They are garish splotches of disorder on what should be nothing but velvety green grass. They spring up between concrete cracks, fed on nothing but sand and discarded cigarette butts. They are glorious, golden middle fingers to perfect lawns, anal groundskeepers, and people who think life should always look pretty and grass should be no more than an inch tall.

I feel like a dandelion.

I am messy and irritating. I don’t really belong where I currently live, I would rather some huge unseen hand pluck me up tomorrow and with one massive puff blow me somewhere else (preferably right to J.’s front door in London). I don’t think that life is easy or neat, even when you are doing the right or good thing. I am tough, perky, and pesky. And, let’s face it, I truly love messing with people’s well ordered lives.

I am a dandelion. And dandelions have enough gumption to make it through bad days.

Humor, Life April 16, 2012April 16, 2012

Getting On With It, And Other Concerns

“Ambition is a poor excuse for not having sense enough to be lazy.”
~ Charlie McCarthy

Ducklings? Come, sit by me and let’s have a semi-serious musing together, alright?

Do you ever get bored? That is a ridiculous question, and I’m aware of it, but I’m honestly curious. I ask because when scrolling through the list of incredible and incredibly talented friends that make up my address book, I am struck at how many of them look at their accomplishments and feel an overwhelming sense of “whatever.” Multiple friends and acquaintances, whose experiences and opportunities I genuinely envy and admire, have recently expressed how unimpressed with or apathetic they are towards those things I’d kill to have right now.

It makes me feel better, because I feel as if my life is incredibly unimpressive (at least of late), and apparently I’m in good company. But it doesn’t stop the feelings of apathy, boredom, listlessness, and (occasionally) resentment from cropping up.

It certainly affects my writing. From time to time I try to figure out just what exactly I’m doing with this blog. It started as a way to just get me to write when I was getting lazy, it morphed into a way to share the funny stories of my workplace and served as a place for me to comment snidely but fondly on the tiny slice of humanity I am privileged to observe so closely. I like this little blog of mine, I have no intention of abandoning it, but on it’s journey that so closely mirrors my own, it’s a bit stale and lacking focus. Not entirely unlike myself.

We’re coming up on another major life shift in the near future (the end of schooling for both parties in my marriage) and with all life shifts one has to sit down and figure out, “What the hell do I do now?” It’s cliche and trite, but it’s not a trivial question. For the first time in years I’m getting the chance to really make some decisions about the direction I want my/our life to go… and I’m discovering that my ability to be proactive, my gumption, and my basic major-life-shift skills have all atrophied somewhat.

I’ve gotten complacent. I’ve not been a major actor in my own life (or so it feels) in a long time. I am faced with trying something new and for the first time I feel so incredibly daunted. I’ve hopped continents during major terrorist threats and made it through earthquakes and typhoons with less trepidation! I’m desperate for change, growth, new opportunity, but a little worried that I’m not as capable of handling it as I once was.

Then of course, every once in a while reason reasserts itself and says, “C., you of all people know that, will you, nill you, life goes on. And you also know that whether or not you choose to worry about, you will have no choice but to just get on with it. And, finally, you know that you generally land on your feet. This philosophizing of yours is fun, but hardly necessary.”

My subconscious never lets me wallow. It’s useful, but annoying.

So, minions, do you find yourself getting bored? Complacent? Underwhelmed? Ready for a change? And what do you do if you still have to wait a while to shake things up (even if the wait is only a couple of months)? More importantly, how do you jumpstart your own lives after letting things coast for a while?

Small Dog Syndrome