Tag: Life

By Popular (Loud and Incessant) Demand

You demanded, Small Dog complied!  Our wedding, in slideshow form, we apologize in advance for the crazy format:
With just a couple months away, C. and J. take pictures and try not to take everything too seriously.
With just a couple months away, C. and J. take pictures and try not to take everything too seriously.
L'Artiste tells C. to practice looking "sultry," C. bursts out laughing after the camera flashes.
L'Artiste tells C. to practice looking "sultry," C. bursts out laughing after the camera flashes.
C. is just glad she got veil and shoes figured out.  J. is just glad C. can stop agonizing about it.
C. is just glad she got veil and shoes figured out. J. is just glad C. can stop agonizing about it.
The whole clan meets up (the day before The Day), luckily everyone seems to get on well! It'd be a shame to back out at this point.
The whole clan meets up (the day before The Day), luckily everyone seems to get on well! It'd be a shame to back out at this point.
...Although...all this family can be a little overwhelming.  Meeting/marrying into a clan, not for the feint of heart!
...Although...all this family can be a little overwhelming. Meeting/marrying into a clan, not for the faint of heart!
No, not their six secret illegitimate children, C.'s newly acquired nieces and nephews!
No, not their six secret illegitimate children, C.'s newly acquired nieces and nephews!
Atticus, Darling, J., C. (who can't look at the right camera), Mama, Dad
Atticus, Darling, J., C. (who can't look at the right camera), Mama, Dad
J. chills with Scotticus, Cakes, and Bear...
J. chills with Scotticus, Cakes, and Bear...
...while C. gets fixed by Venice and Peregrine (AKA, 2/4 the greatest bridesmaid team ever)!
...while C. gets fixed by Venice and Peregrine (AKA, 2/4 the greatest bridesmaid team ever)!
The complete gang: Snickers, Venice, Marie, Peregrine
The complete gang: Snickers, Venice, Marie, Peregrine
No time to rest!  On to the luncheon!
No time to rest! On to the luncheon!
Our rather fab luncheon venue!
Our rather fab luncheon venue!
Dad cracks guests up with the parents' viewpoint into our relationship.
Dad cracks guests up with the parents' viewpoint into our relationship.
Mama giggles at Dad's tale.
Mama giggles at Dad's tale.
Ring Ceremony, close up of my pretty engagement ring.  Green!
Ring Ceremony, close up of my pretty engagement ring. Green!
Snickers, adorable scrag-a-muffin!
Snickers, adorable scrag-a-muffin!
J. and Darling.
J. and Darling.
On to the reception!
On to the reception!
The gorgeous spread...which we didn't get a bite of...
The gorgeous spread...which we didn't get a bite of...
Good thing we got cake (red velvet!) to tide us over...but we still had to get fast food on the way to the carwash to get rid of our mutual brothers' handiwork in decorating it.
Good thing we got cake (red velvet!) to tide us over...but we still had to get fast food on the way to the carwash to get rid of our mutual brothers' handiwork in decorating it.
Speaking of!  Here are mine, goofing off with the flowers.
Speaking of! Here are mine, goofing off with the flowers.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Godfamily in the foreground.  Early in the evening.  Hostess said we had over 400 people, glad I didn't have to herd them!
Godfamily in the foreground. Early in the evening. Hostess said we had over 400 people, glad I didn't have to herd them!
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Unfortunately, you don’t get to see the video of my dad completely showing up J. in the dancing section of the evening.  But it didn’t matter so much because after I tossed the bouquet and we cut the cake, the real party started!  Dancing, mayhem, the usual.  Apparently we were partying too fast to be seen, because half of those pictures didn’t turn out at all!  But there, your insatiable appetites must be satisfied by now!
 
2009_06-woodland-c36
 

Married Alive

 

“So, you liking married life?”
“No.”
(awkward pause)
“Wait!  I mean, I love being married to J. but being married itself is hard!”
“K…”
-Daae and C., who was not paying proper attention to the question
If we're being honest, though, let's admit that as long as we're not at this point, we're doing rather well!
If we're being honest, though, let's admit that as long as we're not at this point, we're doing rather well!

Now, my other young married girl friends, back me up (especially us breadwinners Angel, Jane, Venice, Daae, and the rest of you!), it was a bit of an adjustment when someone took Beyonce’s advice and put a ring on it, wasn’t it?  There are dozens of variations on this theme, but they all involve trading total independence for total inter-dependence and that, my dears, is no easy feat! 

See, everyone tells you that being married is work and tries to warn you, but nothing prepares you for the reality of factoring in another human being into every decision you make.  And nothing can even hope to brace you for the blow that comes from being utterly independent (parents in another country, never asking for money, graduating, travelling, etc., all on one’s own), and then being the sole supporter of a newly minted family! 

No more sharing bills with flatmates, extra money now goes towards feedings this guy (who eats approximately 56 times as much as you do, rough estimate), and say goodbye to nearly all your free time!  Lunch breaks for me ever since we got married have been spent running errands, getting my name changed on everything imaginable, and putting him on my various policies.  Evenings are spent shuttling us around to our various commitments, and I’m the only chauffeur as J.’s ability to drive a manual aren’t up to par.  On top of which, the flat, cable, electricity, gas, car, insurance, and only full-time job we’ve got is all on my head.  And laundry, because J. hates it (which is ok, because I flat out refuse to touch dirty dishes).

Much to my chagrin, this look usually makes J. laugh.  Which is odd, because I've found to be very effective in other aspects of my life...but my husband think's it's hilarious.
Much to Small Dog's chagrin, this look usually makes J. laugh. Which is odd, because I've found to be very effective in other aspects of my life...but my husband think's it's hilarious.

Occasionally I get stressed out/mildly resentful of all this change slapped on at once.  Busiest time of year at work, J. starting his program (which is one of the top ranked in the country) and therefore falling off the planet, and adjusting to living with a new spouse, with all the curious incidents that entails

But I am fortunately/unfortunately married to a person who absolutely understands the way my busy little mind works.  So when the stress gets to be too much, J. cracks a joke or makes a rather ill-timed comment, and I turn freezingly silent for hours/days while I try to reign in my temper…as soon as I emerge from my little nuclear winters, J. can say, “I understand,” and I know he means it.

Office Worker: n. resident of Dante’s Ninth Circle of Hell

“Is it just me, or is this whole thing going to Hell in a hand basket?”
“Just wave your magic wand and make it all better.”
“How about a stapler?  I have one of those and I think it packs more of a punch when it hits.”
-C. and Officer Lampost

One upon a time, the parking office, which is not controlled by the police department, had a novel idea.  “Why don’t we,” they said to one another, “do away with this medieval notion of parking permits that you stick on your window or hang from your mirror and instead invest millions of dollars in a new digital license plate reader system that will simply take a picture of the plate, compare the info to a database, and automatically write tickets!”
“Brilliant!” said University Administration.  “But hey, folks, we are in the middle of a recession.  Is this a good idea?”
“Sure,” said the Parking Powers, “it will only cost XXX amount of money, require fewer man hours to run, and reduce costs all around.”
“How economical!” exclaimed the University, “Go for it!”

futilitySix months later…the Office of IT had not even started writing the program, the bare bones equipment was costing three times more than projected, we had to hire even more people to keep the office running, supervisors were not listening to the traffic and parking clerks when they explained what they needed in the new system, no one had thought that perhaps students/faculty coming to this university might be coming from out of state/country and so the program would need a way to account for that, and days away from the new system going live, the office hadn’t even received a prototype of the program to run.

Ergo, this whole week the entire office has been overrun with techie-types (and everyone of them with the stereotypical thick glasses, receding hairlines, and nasally voices…it’s been weird) scampering about frantically trying to patch a program they didn’t know they had to write, written in a matter of a couple of weeks, and left with enough holes in it that it might legally qualify as a sieve. 

Sorry, IT guys, e-card just aren't going to cut it...
Sorry, IT guys, e-card just aren't going to cut it...

The funny bit in this mess is how the IT guys seem to be trying to apologize for their blunders.  The office has spent the week overrun with flowers, balloons, sugary treats, and take out meals.  I would just like to have been a fly on the wall while they were working this out…
“Crap, guys, we’ve screwed it up royally and now we have an office full of women all barking mad to get this thing online and absolutely furious with us.  Brainstorm, quick!  Best way to make it up?”
“They’re women!  Flowers and chocolate all the way, dude!”

I don’t even work for the parking division, but I would hazard a guess that as much as the girls are enjoying the perks of having a dozen erring husbands groveling for forgiveness…they might prefer the new system working instead.

stupidity_1170973245
Can you exorcise this stuff? Fingers crossed!

And in continuing office news, after the Rising of the Secretaries  (spearheaded by yours truly) and ample warning, I am wheeling out the guillotine!  Today all unclaimed lockers and uniforms will be confiscated, gear will be redistributed to kids who are actually working, all paperwork will be filed and discrepancies will be punished.  At noon we attack!

Pregnancy. Scares.

“I myself prefer dogs.”
Catherine Called Birdy, by Karen Cushman

Ever since getting married (a grand total of a month and a half ago) I wait with baited breath for Mother Nature to confirm that I’m not pregnant every 28 days.  That’s right, I actively look forward to That Time of the Month to reassure myself that a Mini C./J. is not in the works.  In days leading up to it I get unbelievably tense and engage in ridiculous conversations that I’m guaranteed to regret 4-5 days later.
“Does this milk smell off?  …CRAP!  I’m pregnant!”
“No you’re not,” says J. with an irritated but still loving roll of the eyes.  “The milk’s bad.”
“Oh.”  (Goes back to pouring cereal)

While he's blithely  unaffected, I'm getting haunting visions of THIS!
While he's blithely unaffected, I'm getting haunting visions of THIS!

Occasionally I can border on the paranoid.  The first month after marriage I was “late,” which mean two whole days of angst that I think I hid well but during which I secretly gnawed my metaphoric nails to the wrist.
“What if I’m pregnant?” I demanded morbidly one night as we brushed our teeth.
“You’re not,” J. said (again, and just as irritated/patiently).
“But what if I am?!” 
“Well, that’ll certainly change things.”
How can you be so calm??!!” I hissed.
“About a purely hypothetical situation?” he countered.

I trust he would be a better father than this...
I trust he would be a better father than this...

See, even though it would “change things,” I don’t think J.’s world would be rocked to the core if the Fates decided to play this horrid, horrid joke on us.  But then again, he’s not the one who would have to host this alien parasite for nine months, forcibly expel it, and then still find a way to be the primary breadwinner for our family in addition to a full time parent.  I’m a tough girl, I can handle quite a bit, but the mere thought of that last scenario makes my knees knock in quivering terror. 

And I’m sorry, I don’t even find babies cute!  Anathema, I know…but just think about it!  They’ve got these big alien heads they can’t support, they don’t communicate (in any language I speak, or will until I do decide to breed), and if there is an opening in their body anywhere, something gross is coming out of it.  I like little kids better.  I’ll take the Terrible Two’s over the Irrevocably-Broken-If-I-Touch-It Infants any day of the week! 

Alas, even good DNA can go wrong...
Alas, even good DNA can go wrong...

Now, before I’m burned at the stake, I know I’m going to think my own children have been individually sprinkled with awesome dust.  I’ll probably even think they’re cute in spite of the many varieties of goo seeping out of them (my husband’s a fine piece of work, if I do say so myself, and I don’t look like a horse, so the odds are in our favor).   Just…not yet.  Not for a few years.  Not while he’s in school, not while I still have to work, and not while the idea still turns me into a catatonic mess. 

And even though deep down I can admit I look forward to having a family with J. (a long way down the road), I suspect in the meantime, every 28 days, I’ll be going through this same process of fear, soul searching, and grudging resignation.  At least I am assured of one ally.
“How long is this going to go on?” I whined to Venice after Scare #1.
She came back with a chipper, “12 times a year.  Enjoy!”

Hostile Takeover

“I feel sure that coups d’etat would go much better if there were seats, boxes, and stalls so that one could see what is happening and not miss anything.”
-Edmond and Jules to Goncourt

The title is misleading.  If anything I’m staging a “Mildly Irritated Reworking of Procedure” in the office, with Hennessy, Wise, and Susie.  With the upcoming school year we have dozens of students to be hired, fired, given raises, etc., but the problem is that the supervisors in our department are notorious  for not telling me when students quit or are fired.  Then end result is that I think that lockers assigned to students are still in use, gear is still checked out, the kids aren’t hired properly (the procedures of which are federally regulated, meaning that mistakes equal risking one mother of an audit bill), wages get screwed up, and all the secretaries go home with migraines. 

Forward!!!!!
Forward!!!!!

But no more!  We have rounded up the ringleaders (mandatory meeting), studied the mistakes of the past (reviewed suggestions from a similar meeting that took place last year, all of which have been subsequently ignored by the powers that be), barricaded off the exits (cancelled all other events) and put our fates in the hands of a higher power (got Chief on our side).  Liberté, Égalité…er…Sororité?

Adventures in Finesse

“Doh!”
-Homer Simpson

So, not only did J.’s pen leak onto a pair of really nice suit pants, but my khaki trousers have turned up with a strange black slash of mystery gunk on one leg.  And while J.’s is an isolated incident, mine is something considerably more annoying.

Ever since I started working in this office, these black or gray streaks have been turning up on my trousers.  Always on the left side, always noticed at some point in the morning, and always from an unknown source.  I’ve checked everything!  My desk and chair aren’t to blame, it’s not my car, it’s not from food, it’s not anything in my flat…I’m completely at a loss.  And so, another trip to the dry cleaner’s is in order, and still no explanation to give them. 

On an unrelated note, J. and I liked Cirque du Soleil in Vegas so much that when we heard they were coming to our area, we jumped on buying tickets.  And then completely forgot about the date we chose.  The performance was wednesday…we remembered yesterday morning.  Sigh.

Small Dog struggles..
Small Dog struggles..

Adventures in Fashion

“You need to get up.”
“No!”
“Yes.  You need to make money to support your rock’n’roll lifestyle.”
“I don’t have a rock’n’roll lifestyle!”
-J. and C.

We have a trip to England to pay for, school is starting and with it the flood of ridiculously expensive books to be bought, and food must be paid for I suppose.  But fall is coming and that means so are fall lines!  Venice doesn’t help by calling me at work to tell me that Express is having a sale on their work shirts (two for the price of one!  That’s an investment, right?), and neither does my beloved Shabby Apple by debuting new fabulous dresses and accessories!  My Lust List expands exponentially, rather than relative to my wallet (lovely thing though it is) and the only thing that keeps me safe is an iron will combined with absolute horror towards credit card debt commercials!  I therefore bring you:

Small Dog’s List of Things She Wants But Cannot Have

Want want want... Paris dress by Stop Staring
Want want want... Paris dress by Stop Staring
The Greta Garbo dress by Stop Staring for Shabby Apple.  Drool...
The Greta Garbo dress by Stop Staring for Shabby Apple. Drool...

 

The Kenya dress by Shabby Apple
The Kenya dress by Shabby Apple

 

Share my umbrella headband by Shabby Apple.
Share my umbrella headband by Shabby Apple.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And in the category of accessories, considering that I’m living in a fantasy land, I’m also rather smitten with this little item (above headband).  More bohemian than my normal tastes, but I want it just the same.  Oh, come on.  Like you’ve never wanted something you couldn’t have? 

Married With Presents

“How’s married life?”
“How should I know?  I’ve only been married a week and four of those days were vacation!”
-Lt. Citrus and C.

Usually when reality hits me it does so with enough force to break teeth.  So here I am, a week into marriage, flinching and waiting for some kind of blow to fall…but it hasn’t landed yet! 

ist2_2987724-evil-alarm-clockDaae says her favorite part of being married is waking up and seeing her husband next to her every morning.  J. and I, neither of us being morning people, tend to ignore the alarm and fasten our eyes firmly shut against the light for at least a half hour after we had  nobly intended to get up, and then try and urge the other person to take their shower first so that one of us can sleep even longer. 

After we’ve both managed to get presentable in spite of ourselves, I’m off to work on campus and he’s off to the city for 4-8 hours a day where his summer job is helping a firm write an article for publication (meanwhile C., being the resident aspiring writer in our newly hatched family, is stuck back as a secretary for a bunch of people who managed to overlook her several emails warning them of her week-long leave and created all sorts of muddles for her to sort out when she returned to their grateful, frantic arms.  There’s no justice in the world!).  After work I’m back at the gym, which after a two week absence has been hellish, for an hour before heading home.  Where, depending on work, chores, and moving in necessities, J. may or may not be.

We opted to open prezzies away from the prying eyes of friends and family.
We opted to open prezzies away from the prying eyes of friends and family.

And as for setting up house!  We opened our hoard of wedding presents monday evening, feeling rather smug about how orderly we were being about writing down who sent what, disposing of boxes, and carefully sorting…until we stepped back and surveyed the carnage from outside our little cardboard cocoon.  We looked at the two rooms filled with receipts, wrapping paper, and presents, looked at the clock (midnight), looked at each other, and went to bed.  And did pretty much the same thing last night when confronted with the wreckage again. 

So far I think we’re a pretty boring couple.

But there is this.  When unwrapping presents and pulling out the one from Dr. Don, he listened intently when I went off in raptures about how Don had sent me plates!   The story of which is that last summer I was in Oxford with him and some other students and we’d gone with him to the Oxford English Dictionary projectwhere we had a presenter, who was also a researcher on the team, who shared his favorite word with us: twiffler.  Which literally means it’s a plate that can’t make up it’s mind what size it is!  Don had given us twifflers and I was ridiculously excited about it!  J., who did not tease me as he usually does for being a hopeless nerd, got this big smile on his face.  And when I rather mulishly demanded, “Why are you grinning?” he just kissed me and said, “You’re my wife.” 

Which, I’m not going to lie, makes me pretty giddy to hear.

Pondering

“I have never let schooling interfere with my education.”
-Mark Twain

Realizing that I’m about to brand myself a hopeless nerd, I have to admit I am horribly jealous that J. gets to go back to school this fall.  This is really the first autumn in nearly twenty years that I’m not going to be in school (I don’t count last year’s because I was still whirling from the dizzying feeling of freedom) and it’s a little odd to realize how sad I am over the thought.

I really loved school, especially university where I got to immerse myself in a topic for months at the time and come out feeling like I really did know something about the subject.  I got to study things I genuinely loved and had an interest in, so major projects and papers were seldom a chore (unless I procrastinated horribly).

And believe it or not, I’m wretched over the idea of not buying armloads of books this fall!  Maybe those of you who currently attend my Alma Mater are stretching your eyes incredulously over such a lapse in financial judgement, but unlike lots of my friends I seldom had to eat Ramen for a month in order to pay for my books.  The majority of my classes relied on novels, primary sources, history books, anthologies of writings from every conceivable century, essays, etc. and I absolutely refused to sell most of them back to the campus bookstore (except for one semester when I was well and truly starving and had to sell back a book on classical Greek civilization from the earliest city-states through the Persian Wars.  I nearly cried, and when I saw how little I was going to get back for it – compared to what I’d originally paid – I nearly abandoned the plan…but I needed food).

I was talking to MyFavorite a while back and when he asked me what it’s like working full time instead of being in school, I told him all of the above.  We also discussed the oddness of being in charge of one’s own continuing education.  Lots of people seem to finish school and never tax their brain again, I live in fear of mine starting to atrophy!  I swear the process has already started!  It takes effort to get home from work, cook, clean, manage bills, make future plans, and still pull out a book instead of turn on the TV.  Instead of someone else teaching me, I’m entirely responsible for what goes into my head from here on out.

Frost wasn't entirely correct, it's more like "Two million roads diverging-" at times.
Frost wasn't entirely correct, it's more like "Two million roads diverging-" at times.

In that same vein, it’s not just the stimulation I miss about school, it’s also the framework university sort of set up for life.  Each semester had a distinct beginning, middle, and end so you always felt as if you were actively moving through life instead of just being pushed along by the current.  Now, instead of this handy, cyclical way to make a year pass, post-graduate life by comparison seems like one long line stretching off into the distance.

That seems depressing…I don’t mean it to be, but it’s the best metaphor I can find.  What I mean to say is that instead of having an Outside Force set up my life’s structure and passage of time, I’m now the only person who can do that.  If there are to be any interesting breaks, sideshows, or detours in that long line, I’m the person who must take the prerogative of creating/finding/following them.  And while the adventure of doing so is almost always fantastic, sometimes I do miss having that Outside Force doing it for me because I feel (looking back) that being ignorant of that Force meant I could simply live life and enjoy the ride.  It’s no simple thing to be almost entirely in charge of your own destiny!

*Image (C) by Martin Liebermann, http://www.martin-liebermann.de, original found here http://www.flickr.com/photos/liebermann/580181284/

Girls Interupted

We judge others by their behavior.  We judge ourselves by our intentions. 
-Ian Percy

Ever since taking that personality test I’ve been thinking about personal strengths and weaknesses, and have come to some interesting conclusions.

So...being a lady is a bad thing...
So...being a lady is a bad thing...

Recently I was talking to my dear friend Marie who has endured a hellish past two years, rife with all sorts of problems from the medical to the personal.  She’s doing much better now (from an outsider’s perspective at least) and last monday in particular the girl got empowered.  She got good and mad at her situation for the first time in a long time, got a bunch of people in line where they were slacking, and generally went about setting the world to rights.  She says this is out of character for her, and to a degree that’s true, but what really flummoxed me was that she said she was angry at herself for ever having been a “pushover” in her situation (incidentally, not a word that springs to my mind to describe this woman).  In fact, the thing that I’ve always admired most about Marie is her poise: the way she seemed to handle adversity with grace, gentleness, and quiet determination.  I never thought that what I saw as a real strength would be something she saw as a major life obstacle!

...and being an Ice Queen is...good?  HUH?
...and being an Ice Queen is...good? HUH?

But then I considered myself.  Quite a few people recently have told me that they admire my “assertiveness,” “strong will,” and “boldness,” but that aspect of my personality is always something I’ve had mixed feelings about.  I developed a rather aggressive, stand-offish (in some ways) personality to defend myself when no one else in my life seemed able to, to take care of myself when I was well and truly on my own.  I’ll be the first to admit that this forcefulness–not to say intractability– has literally saved my sanity a few times (plus getting a waiter’s attention in any restaurant in Europe would be impossible without it), but that I don’t necessarily like it.  Being bold and appearing confident can be useful, but it can also be abrasive (it earned me the nickname Ice Queen in high school: sometimes it was said with odd admiration, sometimes is wasn’t) .  But still people can like this aspect of me, this facet of my personality that I am sometimes grudgingly thankful for, sometimes outright dislike, but am always willing to use.

Maybe it isn’t too odd that what we see as our greatest weaknesses other see as our greatest strengths.  In the end, we’re probably both right.