What!? She's posting again?

Look at me, three days in a row posting! I had a couple of things to share...be warned, the first thing I'm going to share is pretty gross...so if you have a weak stomach you might want to scroll past the first few paragraphs.





So, I'm sitting on my couch. Right now. And this just happened about 15 minutes ago. My husbands 115 lb. yellow lab just horked his morning breakfast up all over my new wool rug. Yep.


Some questions immediately came to mind; Am I going to have to clean up this flood of digested dog food because my husband isn't home from work yet? Could I possibly leave it there until he gets home? Stop..it was just a thought, okay? I didn't really leave it there. So in the most exciting voice I could muster I urged him outside so he would think it was the best idea ever instead of hanging around and puking some more. Then I had to use my noodle and figure out the best way of extracting said dog vomit without mashing it down into the rug...hhmmmm. Why, I'll use a spatula, of course! Who wouldn't use a spatula? Geez Louise I am full of ingenuity!


Let me tell you, it worked like a charm. I picked the oldest, least often used spatula in my kitchen. And when I was done I put it in the dishwasher. What!? Why waste a perfectly good spatula?


Dog Hork Clean Up 101: Spatulate (see, ingenuity!) dog vomit, spray area with deodorizer and stain remover, blot dry. Voila!

Other Spatuletic activity: see photo



Remember back when I was campaigning to say the "F" word more frequently because I should unabashedly say whatever I wanted? Well, I think I'm over that. I kind of think I'd rather save it for special occasions or get rid of it altogether...well, maybe not altogether. Just much less usage. My previous work environment fostered such language, nurtured it even. Now that I'm away from that train wreck it seems a little inappropriate that's all.





My clock is ticking. You know, the biological one? Yeah, I've got all kinds of baby mama lust. Everywhere I look there are babies or pregnant bellies. There was a time when I wondered if I was the marriage/family type. Since I'm on my second marriage, I guess I like getting married. You know Boo and I are going to start "trying" this month. I hate to say we're "trying." It's more like "unbridled recklessness the likes of which we've never experienced." So, we'll see what happens. Stay tuned!

There she goes....

I've been listening to country music lately. I haven't listened in a few years. Maybe that's why sometimes I don't really know the current, most prominent version of myself. I have found that there a couple different versions of me. Not like scary Sybil, it just seems that I am a walking contradiction sometimes.
Maybe I 'd better clarify. Listening to this music takes me back to the root of who I am, how I was raised and where I come from. For the past few years I have become a slick, polished, smartypants career gal who buys too many clothes and shoes. Just the other day I was considering purchasing a pair of $200 jeans. I promise they didn't have platinum stitching or gold coins in the pockets. In fact, they looked pretty much like my GAP jeans...with a different tag sewn to the rear. But my rationale was, I deserve these jeans I've earned a treat, they'll look even better on my ass than Levi's. That's when (thank heavens) my alter ego showed up and smacked me upside the head. She told my slick self imagine what you could spend $200 on. It doesn't make any kind of good sense to blow it on a single pair of jeans, you tard. And amazingly my smartypants self listened to her. Walked out of the store.
Living in the city is sort of like constant peer pressure. Boo and I live on the northside of our major city. It's the more affluent side of town I guess. It wasn't my choice mind you..Boo already owned this house when we got hitched. And we aren't right in the thick of the yuppies, thank the angels. To illustrate my point; my sales territory is on the westside. All the little rural towns are over there. As I drove around today I noticed lots of pick-up trucks and hard working sweaty men. I like pickups and sweaty men. Then I started driving home and the closer I got to the northside, the pickups turned into SUV's (the fancy kinds) Mercedes, Lexus and Beemers mostly carrying men in white collared shirts with ties. There was more pavement, upscale shopping areas, and not so many trees. Now, I want to own up to the fact that my husband drives a Lexus, but he bought it pre-owned and plans to drive it into eternity. And we're going to pay it off this year.
But still. It's like a fancy car is a prerequisite to live on the northside. And fancy jeans, and shoes and Pottery Barn and Barnes and Noble...and I get sucked in because I forget that the real world lies beyond the city limits, down a winding road, over the hill and around the bend as you head into the trees. That's where I come from. That's where I am me. I catch glimpses of me sometimes and I want to grab that girls arm and say hey, take me with you.

Good morning.

It's 6:45am this stormy tuesday morning. My alarm went off at 6am and I laid in bed listening to the thunder. I could hear the rain pelting the shingles and occasional lightening flashed through the curtains. Just a summer storm passing thru, no need to take cover. I do love a nice summer storm. When I was a kid living out in the sticks I'd sit out in the yard and watch the storms roll in until my mom yelled for me to come in so I wouldn't get my foolishness struck by lightening. My dad got struck once. That's another story though.
Anyway, we had a screened in patio that I practically lived in while I was growing up. One side faced east and I could see cars coming down the road (which was kind of an event because I lived on a slow county road) and the other side faced the woods, where all the magic lived. I could sit there all day listening to the sounds of the woods. Birds singing, squirrels chattering, an occasional mysterious crashing through brush (maybe a deer passing thru? or raccoons? squirrels miscalculating a jump?). Nighttime was the best, after the heat of the day faded into comfortable night air, cool, but warm..does that make sense? The kind of summer night air that caresses your skin and makes you close your eyes and breathe it all in. I'd just sit out there on the sofa, in the dark, by myself and listen to the woods. Locust (cicadas?) were typically the first
to begin their chik chik buzzzz see-saw rhythm. Mom called them "back-to-school locust." After the sun dropped below the horizon the crickets would commence the chirping and the nightbirds would warble...and there are also some crazy little tree frogs that could screech like something you've never heard before. Teen weeny things, big noise. I loved sitting out there. It was my solace and retreat. As a teen I'd sleep out there on the sofa every chance I got. The nights it rained were heaven, ahhh. I loved that patio. I loved that woods. Kinda bittersweet thinking about it now. The house was sold when my parents divorced. I was 24 when that happened. They sold the house and had a big auction. While strangers were perusing our things, our memories in the yard, I snuck off into the woods. I walked down the trail to the ash tree by the creek where all of my childhood pets are buried and cried. Cried for my pets, cried for losing my childhood home, cried for the break-up of my dysfunctional family, cried for the unfairness of it all. Cried because the auctioneer just sold my big old dollhouse for five dollars by mistake. And I mostly blame my dad for all of it.
I drive past the old place every now and then, when I'm out that way, it looks different...sort of overgrown. All the trees we planted are full grown now, the woods looks unattended to. My dad always kept the trails mowed. One of these days I'll pull off to the side of the road and wander into the woods just to see if any magic still lives there.

Homeward Bound

Finally, it is the eve of my departure. I have been in Chicago since July 6th..non-stop, no breaks, no trips home. I am so tired of most of these people, save a select few. Imagine, you put 100 people in a hotel for three weeks...it turns into freakin Melrose Place. The gossip and rumors about who said what about who, who hooked up, who's husband just left them, who's in the closet, who's pregnant, who should leave their husband because he's abusive, how to parent children correctly, why people shouldn't consume more than two alcoholic beverages at one sitting in a work situation, blah blah blah.
We get to do it all again in October, although that will only be for a week, so hopefully everyone can hold their liquor and keep their pants on.
I am so ready to hop in my little car and head south to the sweet smell of fresh cut grass and a glass of wine on my deck. I want to get it on with my husband. I want to love on my dogs and prove to them that I do exist. And I want to spend a quiet morning at the barn with my horse.
Only one more morning of my hotel routine: wake up call at 6am, reminder wake up call at 6:15.
Hop in the shower. Hop out, pour a glass of juice. Stand wrapped in a towel while drying my hair and putting on my face, select an outfit that is cute but functional and able to deflect the Antarctic temps of the hotel meeting rooms. Down the elevator. Walk to the far end of the lobby where a breakfast buffet is set up for us each day. Decide if it will be oatmeal with brown sugar and raisins or bacon and eggs. Find a seat with the people I like. Start easing into the day with minor breakfast conversation. Betty or Lisa will swoop in as soon as I finish and take away my plate. I thank her and walk down the hall to class. This is exactly how it will go tomorrow morning. It will probably be the last day I have any structure to my morning until I return in October. I have found that I kind of like this structure and I may try to implement some of it at home. Who's going to give me a wake up call and whisk away my dirty dishes?

Hello, room service, in-room dining! Hello!

I am exhausted. But before you feel sorry for me, let me tell you why. I am back up in Chicago for more job training. The training has been pretty stress-free, just time consuming. Nothing like the last trip. This time I have to pretend to be giving the doctor my schpeil while a trainer evaluates me...for four different drugs...so I have to practice a lot and learn what I'm allowed to say and such.
I am missing home. Boo was scheduled to come visit me this weekend, but it really doesn't make sense from a logistical standpoint. I have to prepare for my next role play certification, we'd have to pay to board the dogs, gas (nuff said!), and money to entertain the two of us over the weekend. So, we decided he would stay home, save money, time and fuel. The dogs won't get bent out to shape, and I can be focused on the task at hand. But that doesn't keep me from missing Boo and my critters and my bed. I will be going home a week from tomorrow. Yay!
Right now my hotel room smells like black beans and rice, I have Baja Fresh trash in my room. I am tired of take-out food and living in a hotel. I do however enjoy the fact that my room is cleaned daily, my toiletpaper is crisply folded into a little point each day, I get a wake-up call everyday and my meals are prepared for me. :) I also leave wet towels on the floor and they are magically whisked away with fresh ones hung in their place.
Some of my counterparts are characters. There is a wide variety of people here from all over. Most of them are interesting and likeable...I hope I fall into that catagory for them. Although today I was a little testy so I mostly kept quiet and to myself.
The company threw a little reception for us in the lobby last night; there were crudites, fancy cheeses and chicken satays...and an open bar. So, being salesfolks, we're a pretty social bunch. After three glasses of wine, Allison and Carol began mixing vodka with crystal light water. I hate vodka, but apparently I thought it was a good idea because I had a couple of those. I was a social bbutterfly, mixing and mingling with people I didn't even know. Eventually I went to bed and woke up at 5:45am with a headache and a sick feeling in my tummy. Somehow I muddled thru the day, but as mentioned, I was not happy about it. So now, I am blogging because I have been delinquent with my blogs. My eyelids are being propped open with toothpicks and I am going to have to hit the hay. So, good night blog friends.

Hello Franklin Covey!

Gonna make a list for ya.

• I've been in Chicago for the past two weeks training for my new job.
• My new job is pharmaceutical sales; I've been working my ass off to break into the industry for five years.
• Training was brutal, but I felt triumphant at the end of the two weeks.
• I am home for two weeks during which I have two bridal showers (one of which I'm the hostess!), one rehearsal dinner, one wedding, 4th of July, two evenings planned with friends, one hair appointment, one dentist appointment, get the dog groomed, guests staying at my home for four nights, shopping for new work clothes, trying to find/see an new OBGYN, study for and take an entrance exam for another drug I'll be selling. Did I mention that I'm still working during the days?
• The guests are my brother-in-law C and his fiancee A. They are getting married July 5th.
• I have to leave to go back to Chicago on Sunday July 6th...for three weeks straight.
• Under pressure? Actually, I am scary efficient when this kind of chaos rears it's head. (Note the bullet points.)
• Oh yea, the new OBGYN...we're going to try to get pregnant starting in August. Ha ha! They say there's no good time, so away we go! Luckily I'll actually be home for most of August and September.

Flossy

When you grow up in a small town, typically, you have the same dentist and doctor that you started going to the first time you ever went to a dentist or doctor. I don't know how old I was when I first went to the dentist, maybe four years old? I don't know the rules about kids and getting to the dentist yet. So maybe I was four. Anyway, Dr. Huppert has been my dentist for some years now. Even when I went away to college three hours from home I had the same dentist. You know why? This is crazy, but Dr. Huppert actually had an office in my hometown AND the city my college was in. I think that is bizarre coincidence, but true nonetheless. It had something to do with the fact that his mother lived down there. Anyway...
I've grown up, gotten married and moved far enough away from my hometown that it doesn't make any kind of sense for me to continue going to his office. So yesterday I went with my husband (Boo) to his dentist. It was almost surreal. When the same guy has been humming songs and asking you open-ended questions while his hands are in your mouth since you were four-ish it's strange to meet the new guy. It was a strange dental tryst. But I think this is going to be a permanent change. The new guy is sweeping me off my feet; he's already scheduled a time to replace my old fillings with new white ones! He mentioned to Boo that Dr. Huppert should have replaced them long before now because they're breaking down. He's even talking about sending me off to get braces! His hygenists are so friendly! His wife is so nice! I thought everyone might break out into a musical number while we were there. I wouldn't have been surprised if a little animated bird had landed on my shoulder as I walked out of the office.
So long Dr. Huppert, you've been a nice dentist but things change. I'm gonna like it here!