Massive heaving swirling black clouds flood the sky in undulating streams flowing east to the dark and the night and the feast. The orange dusk-lit world is mesmerized, hypnotized, seduced. Enticed to join the frenzy and fly away.
Today's earworm brought to you by Jethro Tull. I think there must be some earworm union where they only accept the really annoying songs. Seriously. Have you ever had an earworm that you enjoyed?
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Jumbo Shrimp. (Hysterical oxymoron there.) Jumbo Gulf Shrimp must be among the top five shellfish in the world, because the are so good. So good, until you have to devein them. And you wonder, what did this little guy eat the day he was caught? And then you try not to think about that anymore.
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I'm driving slightly over the speed limit in the middle lane, so why are you riding my ass? I'm not going to hammer it because you're in a hurry and 70 isn't fast enough. BACK OFF!
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I'm wearing my new favorite t-shirt today. It reads "Wicked Kitty Candy Co." And I love it. It's soft and comfy and festive.
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I went out of my way last night to pick up coffee creamer for my desk, so I can enjoy the Starbucks with French Vanilla creamy goodness. Except I forgot it at home. Along with my allergy medicine. So, two things I need to make it through the day are at home - a forty minute round-trip from the office. Frak!
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It really bothers me when people walk around the office barefoot. I think that's just gross. (Actually, it IS gross. Because you know what's on that floor? Dog poop people tracked in on the bottom of their shoes; rancid mud from the recent rains; bacteria and amoebas and disease. It's disgusting. Try not to think about it. Just wear shoes!)
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Happy Halloween! I'm really glad I'm not a Sunday School teacher, because their job this Sunday morning is going to totally suck. And if you have kids that are going to enjoy a massive pre-church sugar-high followed by the inevitable depressive let-down, keep them in the pew with you. Those nice Sunday School ladies don't deserve the torture.
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I think that's everything that's been on my mind this morning. Talk to ya'll later!
Dear Texas Weather,
What the hell was that all about?!?!?!
80 degrees and muggy at lunch and then 65 degrees, windy, and dry a mere six hours later? Do you know what you're doing? Really? Because it looks like you have no idea.
Figure it out already.
Thanks,
Texas Native
P.S. Thanks in advance for providing pleasant Trick-or-Treating weather for all the little monsters piggies kiddies.
Shall I tell you what's happening? Or happened, I guess, since it's been nearly a month.
There is this company I know that reorganized its sales force, realigning "assets" and adjusting territories and quotas. Like all other sales organizations, this happens every year, with similar bitching and moaning - from customers and employees alike.
Ah, but this year . . . This year, a girl I know was so popular that several managers argued and negotiated to get her. The only problem with being so "in demand" is that no one invited the girl to the party where her fate was decided. The decree was given, with the admonishment: "Be grateful to have a job at all."
Well, yes. True. Can't argue that. Consider me grateful.
And disappointed. It's impossible to really describe how much I detest having no control over my life, even those eight or nine hours that someone else buys from me each day. Especially when someone in a locked room decided my fate, even though they could have opened that door, invited me in, and asked my preference or at least pretended to seek my input . . . to have even offered the appearance of respect.
To their credit, I probably got the best deal going, with a great manager, friendly colleagues, and good customers. And sales people are conditioned to expect annual changes, to adapt, to thrive no matter what. But we're not mice in a maze. Like every single other individual on the planet, we'd like a little control over our destiny. Choices. The ability to steer our own course, even in the corporate setting where quotas and margins drive every action.
So, that's what happened. And I'm still coming to terms with it all - on a new team, in a new territory, with a new customers, with a new goal.
So, I'm cooking in the kitchen, making mushroom sauce, when I look at the label on my mushrooms. (Side note: I use the pre-cleaned, pre-sliced 8 ounce package of white mushrooms. So easy and time-saving.) Anyway, I'm about to throw the mushrooms into some hot butter when I notice the label.
"Now with 100% Vitamin D"
Um, ok. So, did my previous mushroom purchases NOT include 100% vitamin D? Were they deficient in some way? Or, are these NEW & IMPROVED mushrooms fortified like milk? What is going on with the mushrooms?
deluge (n) - a great flood of water; inundation; a drenching rain; downpour; anything that overwhelms
torrent (n) - a stream of water flowing with great rapidity and violence; a rushing, violent, or abundant and unceasing stream of anything; a violent, tumultuous, or overwhelming flow
tempest (n) - a violent windstorm, esp. one with rain, hail, or snow; a violent commotion, disturbance, or tumult
rooftops
window
afternoon
confusion
disillusioned
confidence
reality
trick
choose
change
same
understanding
dream
surround
Bonus:
circumstances
Dear Driver,
Your windows are not tinted. This means: I can see you. Inside your car. Picking your nose. Which is a nasty habit.
We both pulled into the same parking lot at work. I know who you are.
Passing you a tissue and some Purell,
Jennifer
Cinnamon Sticks Boutique makes some of the prettiest jewelry I've seen on Etsy, and today she's giving away one of her bracelets. Go to her website and enter for a chance to win. And then hit Etsy and buy yourself something pretty.
Leah, you'll love this one: Dad Tags
Some things that have distracted me lately:
People of Walmart
Fair warning here: you might burn your retinas viewing this website. Please be careful.
Cracked
Humorous lists and videos of things you never knew you wanted to know.
FAIL Blog: Epic Failures
Schadenfreude in action: where it's ok to laugh at others.
explanation
lonely
mission
right
easy
good
hopeless
situation
awake
nothing
true
justice
light
mercy
gravity
distance
passage
Bonus:
conscience
My sister is sad, distraught; I'm pretty sure it's because of something I wrote. And from this side of the gap between us, I hurt too.
Perhaps she thinks I'm rejecting her foundational truth. Or worse, rejecting her.
Her unassailable faith casts me "heretic." Does my acceptance of science cast her "ignorant?"
I should hope not - because she is intelligent and reasonable. But better, she is kind and generous and loving. She is I Corinthians 13 and Proverbs 31, combined.
But here I am, across a great divide, thinking she thinks the worst of me. That if I see the Bible as a book of faith; a plan for redemption; history, allegory, literature, and spiritual discipline combined; that should we disagree . . . that I am condemned.
Am I condemned in her eyes?
. . .
Quite possibly.
Or 7 years, 4 months, 6 days.
And I'm thinking of this because a pal at work decided he's had enough staring at grey cubicle walls. He's out. Off into the wild blue yonder to become a helicopter pilot in Alaska, or Hawaii, or somewhere. Or not. Who knows. "It's a great big world out there. What am I waiting for?"
Very good question.
It's that time of year again. Again.
When the weather can't make up its mind, when the ragweed is in full bloom.
When one's lower jaw aches from the teeth-grinding; one's cheeks, eye-sockets, and forehead pound with sinus pressure; when the little man with the jack-hammer on the inside of one's cranium is making a valiant effort to escape his confines. And should the top of one's head blow off, one would feel a million times better.
There aren't enough tissues in the world.
I know the Nobel Peace Committee has a sad history of defaming itself . . . But is a little consistency too much to ask? It seems to me that if you’re going to be in the business of making disastrously bad, ridicule-inviting choices, you need to select people with a long track record of feckless, reckless, irrelevant, crowd-pleasing stupidity on an international scale.
- Tony Woodlief, Sand in the Gears
In this era of flu-pandemic precautions (and general public hygiene), it's important to remember then even when there is a bottle of Purell at the end of the veggie buffet it does not suggest in any possible way that it is ever EVER appropriate to put YOUR HANDS in the little veggie bins. Never ever ever acceptable. Never. EVER!
Sometime in the last couple weeks, I managed to sprain (or strain, I don't really know the difference) both ankles. Both! The end result is that I've been hobbling around like a little old lady, which is to say: slowly and precariously. And painfully.
But today? Today, I feel better. Not up to full speed yet, but moving without limping is a good thing. Especially when the moving is pain-free. Pain-free without drugs, even.
Yay!
Arrived at work this morning to hear an in depth conversation about hydrocarbons, long-chain carbon reactions, the purposes and uses of diesel engines, the pros and cons of bio-diesel, and general instruction on the internal workings of the combustion engine.
Not quite sure how this applies to what we do here, considering none of our products actually require gasoline to operate.
About ten years ago, I took some customers to dinner at a popular local restaurant. I had the stacked chicken enchiladas and (for some strange reason) blueberry cheesecake for dessert*. Four hours later, the constant rumbling in my tummy forced me to pull into a disgusting gas station, in which bathroom I disgorged a good portion of that meal.
The rumbling and heaving continued into the night, long past the moment when I had successfully emptied my stomach. Past the bile, even. Past all hope of seeing sunshine in the morning. The universe was built of porcelain, and I was its only inhabitant upon which it was visiting its eternal anger.
Some time shortly thereafter, I was admitted to the emergency room, where the doctor carried on a colorful discussion with Handsome about my trials and tribulations.
Handsome is concerned. "She's been throwing up blood."
Doctor frowns and continues pressing on my abdomen. Roughly. I heave, vomit.
"Here, let me show you." Funny husband, that one.
This is all to say that the meal I endured on Monday in no way measured up to that previous episode of food poisoning. But it was close.
*I haven't been able to enjoy blueberries since.
There are those who think that life
Has nothing left to chance
With a host of holy horrors
To direct our aimless dance
A planet of playthings
We dance on the strings
Of powers we cannot perceive
The stars aren't aligned
Or the gods are malign
Blame is better to give than receive
You can choose a ready guide
In some celestial voice
If you choose not to decide
You still have made a choice
You can choose from phantom fears
And kindness that can kill
I will choose a path that's clear
I will choose free will
- Rush, Freewill
