Making it work

Why it's great to work from home:

• no driving in traffic
• flexibility
• you don't have to make friends with, let alone talk to, coworkers
• you can surf the web without having to click over to your Word document at a moments notice

Why it sucks to work from home:

• better things always come up
• screaming children in the background of important phone calls
• cringing when the phone rings
• not knowing any of your coworkers
• always feeling the nag of work

I should be grateful. I called my boss and asked if I could start working again after a 9 month hiatus. He lined me up right away. But this time he told me he would get me a cubicle and a computer so I could come in once a week. My heart stopped. Having my own cubicle means commitment. Commitment means responsibility and responsibility means anxiety.

Before John was born I suffered from some pretty bad anxiety surrounding my job. I had a real issue with feeling totally incompetent in my position. When it comes to archaeology I still feel like that.

I am pretty good at faking it. I think because I enjoy some aspects and not the rest. I am not passionate about it. I do not retain facts like my colleagues. I like the big picture. There is not enough big picture in a field dominated by minute details.

So I am trying again. It is a means to an end, not a way of life. That's what it is--a way of life for most of the professionals. I am content to sit at the computer and do the writing but don't ask me to commit my life to it.

Something to learn

I can't put my finger on it, but there is something to learn about life from this place:

Maybe it is the glistening fixtures that are repeatedly wiped down by the clean cut boy carrying a dish towel and broom.

Maybe it's the number of smiling employees eager to fulfill their part in the whole process (the picture of efficiency).

Maybe it's the simple menu.

Maybe it's the uniforms that hearken back to a simpler time

It could be enjoying the company of loved ones...

Whether it be the sparkle, the well polished employees with their effortless positive attitudes, or the company of family, I felt like I might have stepped into a Disney-run business for a brief moment.

Then I tasted the fries and realized it might just be heaven.

Eight years strong...

We celebrated 8 years by dining with my parents, catching up on all The Office episodes, running to WalMart and then King Soopers at midnight, and sleeping in this morning. It was just like old times except this time I was in the motorized cart at WalMart and he was walking.

I tried to tell her but she just didn't get it.

The other day I swallowed hard and began the conversation I had been putting off.

"Hey Bogda, I keep meaning to tell you you're famous," I said.

"I know. Everyone in Castle Rock knows me because they see me walking," she was matter of fact.

"No, I mean you are internationally* famous."

"Why?" She sat back and rested her arms atop her ample bosoms, interested to hear my explanation. I have tried to sit contentedly like that, but my bosoms are not of the arm supporting caliber.

"Well it all started with your pickle soup..." I took a bite of the chicken soup she had just served me even though I had told her I wasn't hungry. Trying to explain a blog to someone who doesn't know how to use a mouse, let alone turn on a computer was more difficult than I expected.

"It's like a diary or journal that you can share with all your friends and family. I mentioned you and your pickle soup and now everyone wants to meet you."

I explained how Blake and Lindsay both asked about her in their recent visit from North Carolina.

"North Carolina? They should go find Barbara (her sister-in-law who, coincidentally, lives there) she will give them pickle soup. But wait. I think they are on vacation, and she tries to cook healthy anyway. Never mind."


*I would like to thank Trixie for putting my blog into the "international" category.

Happy Birthday Sweet Mouses

I can't believe it has been six years already...

Day 1

One Year

Two (we started him learning to do a stripper dance early).

Three

Four

Five

Six-ish

Like Father Like Son...

I wish I had more pictures of Jared to illustrate my point... You will just have to believe me when I say he enjoys adding hats and eccentric accessories to complete his look. His latest has been in the form of various types of facial hair... but that is for another post.

Typical

The coonskin hat...

He doesn't need glasses

He sleeps with a bandana every night.


John has been wearing this bandana for the past 24 hours, including sleep

Do you think it's genetic?

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!

Another random rant

Ok, so here it is...

I am not a professional dancer. The closest thing to "technique" for me is if the ballerina has pointed toes and good posture. I do, however, find myself watching all of these dancing shows, and I don't really know why.

While watching So You Think You Can Dance this evening I found myself asking this question:

If the choreography tells a story, why then do you have to tell it to me in words first? And why does the choreography have to tell a story?

I am a big believer that if you are trying to tell a story through a dance you should let the dance tell the story and communicate the meaning for you (but NOT by acting out the meaning of the songs words like touching your eyes for the word "see").

Instead it's like, "this dance is about a couple who has been fighting for the past 6 months and they are on the verge of divorce when his mother comes to live with them and their daughter develops a rare disease. The family is forced to struggle through this difficult time despite the wife's alcoholism and the husband's torrid affair."

Then you watch the dance and think to yourself:

Hmmm... that looked like a robot freak show to me.

I feel the same way about "themes" in decorating-- don't get me wrong, I enjoy a good theme like the rest of them, but I don't think every single room needs a theme (unless, of course, the theme is "jumbled mess" for obvious reasons). I don't know how to explain this without hurting anyone who has a theme room/house feelings. So I won't really try.

Suffice it to say I like subtlety. You shouldn't have to tell me how cool you are-- if you were really cool I would have figured it out on my own. Get it?