Thursday, March 26, 2015


The Old Woman would call it "cutting off  your nose to spite your face."

On the heels of my recent "fade away" from the SMLF, I've decided that I'm going to, in the most juvenile way possible, "test" the humans I surround myself with these days.  Basically, I'm going to stop being so freakin' eager to perpetuate the friendship. I'm polite.  I inquire after their families and do the chitchat thing.  But, they need to invite me to actual interactions, like lunch.  I'm feeling the need to have someone reach out to me for once, rather than act like the little brother begging to be included.

I know, the only loser in this game is me.  Although, I'm hoping in the long run I might actually be pleased to see that I am appreciated for my own monkeyness rather than simply one of the group you invite because you can't very well invite one person from an office an not the others . . . especially if you're eating in that office and food that monkey prepared.

So, I'm eating lunch alone a lot these days.  I did have a lunch invite from a friend this week.  Not one of the SMLF, but someone I enjoy conversing with on a regular.  So, it's not all navel gazing and pity parties.  Mostly, but not all.

Sunday, March 22, 2015


One aspect of my relationship with Phenom is that we actually inspire each other to be our best selves.  (I know, gag.)

He has become more patient with others because of conversations we've had about struggles I've seen from other humans.  I want to be more generous because of his example.

But, I also find that we have this odd little accountability ritual.  We confess to each other when we were selfish or lacked compassion or decided to not be our best selves.  We actually never admonish each other as a result of these confessions.  In fact, we usually validate the choice.  But, it's interesting.

This realization came about the other day when I confessed that I had not been generous.

One of the people who works in my office is sometimes referred to as "the original freeloader" by others in the office.  She constantly is hinting around that we should give her whatever it is that we have . . . food, make-up, gadgets, clothes.  She doesn't just admire our things, she out-and-out asks for them. My tact is usually to laugh and act like it's an absurd notion. . . me giving you the scarf I wore today.  (And, it is absurd, right? The asking, in itself, is absurd, right?)

So, the other day, she popped into my office when I was eating my lunch.  I'd made myself a large "asian" citrus chopped salad from a kit.  The package itself was large enough that it could easily have been a side item for a meal for a group of people.  But, it was my whole lunch . . . that and a chicken breast I'd brought for protein.  I was more than half way through my salad when she sat down.  She asked what I was having.  She exclaimed that she was really quite hungry.  She told me that she really thought that salad looked good and that she wished I'd brought enough to share.  She asked several times what was in it?  Where did I get it?  How much was in the package? Did I really eat the whole thing for a meal?  Gee, I wish I'd brought lunch with me today.

I let her go on, without suggesting that she should share in my salad (I was eating straight from the bowl . . . no one expects you'd share from your ACTUAL bowl, right?)  I didn't mention that I had a whole, uncut chicken breast in a container on my desk that I planned to eat after I finished the salad.  I suspected she would have expected me to give her the chicken.  But, I'd not had protein with my breakfast, and I had a salad planned for dinner . . . I needed a few grams of protein intake for the day.

Still, I felt as if I had not been generous.  I felt that I'd been selfish, and I should confess.  The Phenom, of course, agreed that her insinuation that I should share my lunch was absurd, and I had no reason to feel guilty.

Confession is good for the soul.  So is validation from your loyal friends.

Saturday, March 14, 2015


I spent much of my day being annoyed with a co-worker.  It's one of those situations where the source of my annoyance is largely personal, which makes it even more annoying because I don't know exactly where I can draw the line between "let it slide and deal with my own feelings" and "I need to speak up because it does, in fact, impact the work place."

It has to do with being generally friendly in the office.  This co-worker will come in, last, and not say "hello" to anyone.  She does this daily.  I once made a comment about her not being a morning person, my explanation for her behavior.  She informed me that she does consider herself a morning person.  Okay.  So, you don't say hello to your co-workers because you just don't like them?  Because you have no social interaction skills?

Today, she kept her office door closed all morning . . . no clients, no serious phone calls . . . just a warning to the rest of us to not bother her.  Okay, people have bad days.  I can give you space.  But, then she left for lunch without bothering to say anything to anyone.  We buzzed by her office, and were surprised to find her gone.

She was second to last to leave the other night, and didn't take a moment to let the person left in the building know.  The last employee left behind was startled to discover that she was alone in the building.  And, I imagine it is a bit weird to walk out of your office, before 5pm, to discover you'd been left. Creepy, actually.

I don't think it should be an issue that employees engage in the simplest of interactions.  I see it as an issue of common courtesy that you say hello in the mornings and let folks know when you're leaving . . . especially if your departure leaves someone alone in the building.  In the latter, it seems an issue of safety, right?  Why am I even having to bring this up with you?  Shouldn't you know this sort of stuff?

But, then I spent the evening cooking for the memorial tomorrow.  There is a peacefulness that accompanies doing for others.  And, it helps me remember to keep perspective on what annoys me.

Thursday, March 12, 2015

Funerals and Fads

It is gearing up to be a food weekend.

First off, a friend made reservations for a seriously good tapas restaurant when I visit her next month.  The chef of this place (we've been before) is a James Beard nominee and worked at E.Bulli.

And, Saturday, I have a funeral to attend.  Southerners know how to throw a funeral.  I got the call earlier this week from the person coordinating the food.  Fortunately, the Old Woman supplied me with a copy of Being Dead is No Excuse.  My contributions will be a large, colorful salad with balsamic dressing/homemade croutons and a chocolate cake.  I'm going to make the chocolate zucchini cake that has been popular with my peeps lately.  The coordinator was pleased that it's a bundt because you can get lots of servings from a bundt. (Instead of walnuts, I put in a bag of mini choco chips. . . because chocolate.)

Tomorrow, The Phenom is going to take me to lunch.  A rare treat!  We'll swing by the wholesale grocery to pick up a disposable, lidded salad bowl and cake carrier.  I'm a little ashamed I don't have them handy . . . as any good southern cook should.  One need always be prepared to show up with a cake in the case of a death.  .

Lastly, I've been reading the Thug Kitchen Cookbook.  I spent many years being a vegetarian.  I actually enjoyed the creativity of the diet.  I even got smug about sneaking tofu in Phenom's food.  But, for health reasons, I've given up being a vegetarian.  This cookbook has rekindled my interest in vegetarian food.

So, I HAD to buy one of those super blender appliances to make veggie smoothies.  I have a large bag of kale/spinach and a pineapple in my fridge waiting for experimental smoothies.

One of the games the Old Woman and I liked to play was to list off all the wondrous improvements to our lives with the tweaking of just one little thing.  My skin would clear of acne, I would be elected the president of the student body, we'd win publisher's clearinghouse, etc.  I'm sure that a week of drinking kale/pineapple/frozen strawberry smoothies will make me the most radiant monkey, ever, with hair of pure silk.

Oh, and I bought a huge container of nutritional yeast and sprinkled it liberally on the pop corn tonight and told the Phenom it was "cheese sprinkles."  This is the problem with vegetarianism . . . it turns me into a lying monkey.

Friday, March 06, 2015

Finally took the hint

For several years now, I've participated in a lunch group we call SMLF.  It has been said that I was one of the original founders.  I prefer to think that the group, more or less, developed organically.  At its peak, it was a loud, hilarious, fun group that got the members through many a frustration.  We supported each other.  We pulled together for the common good.  We were perceived as having power.  Hee hee.

But, members started taking different jobs and being less available for lunch.  But, we still managed to throw together a rocking baby shower for a member, recently.  But, I'd noticed something of a drifting.

Since the start of the year, I had really noticed that we hardly ever got together any more.  Even the mainstay members were unavailable.

Then weird things came up . . . like a lunch invite that was revoked 10 minutes later.  (The invite was initiated by one member, and then ten minutes later she claimed she wasn't in town and couldn't have lunch.  Very weird.)

Today, I was having lunch across town with an associate.  It's a restaurant the SMLF never goes to because it's so far from most of our offices, the travel time would severely cut into our lunch hours. But, then I looked up to find that the SMLF were having lunch.  I had not been included.   And I assume the choice of restaurant was to minimize the chance of me seeing them.

And, suddenly the weirdness of the past several months made total sense.  This is what they do when someone is no longer welcome . . . they just quietly stop including them.  FUCK.

So, tonight I removed myself from the spider monkey lunch forum list.  There is just a tiny bit of dignity in removing myself . . . after weeks of hints . . . than to go on thinking I'm part of the crowd.

I would like to know what transgression merited this treatment.  Was it the gifts I brought back from my travels? The many treats I've made? The birthday and holiday lunches and baby showers I've organized (and paid for) ?  I think the Old Woman was right . . . I try too hard.  No one likes the kid who wants it too much.  Only, I thought I was just being generous to my friends.  Silly monkey.

Monday, March 02, 2015

For Tom

I have just finished reading a book put together by the Grad Student.  This book contains the journals of his son, my adoptive brother, before his final rehab, during the final rehab, and afterwards.  It ends with his suicide note and memorials left on his facebook page.

I'm in tears, huffing and sniffling, as I type this.

He was my first friend.  I still idolize him . . . even though I know his faults.  I still insist that the world see him as I did.  I want people to understand his intelligence and natural kindness.  I want them to understand that his flaws weren't his fault.  I want them to be in awe of his talent.  Even though he was eaten alive by shame and guilt and anger. . . so much anger . . . I love him.  I don't know if he ever was kind enough to himself to absorb that he was loved.

This week, I've been visiting the Grad Student.  It has been a nice limbo of being in-between adulthood and moments of carefree childhood.  Today we dressed up and went to see the Oregon Symphony and dance performance (pretty girls in pretty dresses twirling on stage) and went to a fancy restaurant after .  .  . but I could order a boozy drink.  But, we have also tried to make peace with the past.  We have tried to reason why we have arrived at the place we are now .  .  . one man short.

Friday, February 27, 2015

Food Heaven

I'm in PDX.  I had a seat in first class for the flight out here (and on my return trip.)  I got a meal with my early morning flight.  First real meal I've not had to purchase in years on a flight.  I selected cereal and yogurt.  It came with fresh fruit, croissant, jelly.  Not bad, really.

For first dinner, we went to a pizza place that is very popular locally, Lovely's Fifty Fifty.  One of the pizzas had these amazing hot sweet peppers. I went online today and ordered an obscenely large order.  (The peppers are a local company and very popular in the area too.)

Today, for lunch we went to a sandwich shop.  I cannot remember the name, but they specialize in pastrami.  I had a reuben.  I always have the reuben.  It was very juicy, tender pastrami.

Tonight, we went to Bamboo Sushi.    I think sushi is one of those things I could just not stop eating.  It's the bite sized pieces.  This place gets all kinds of recognition for being sustainable and green.  The Green Machine is terrific.  So was the sake.

We're driving up to Seattle tomorrow for lunch.  Wonder if we'll stop by to check out the herbals?

Tuesday, February 17, 2015

Chemist or bartender

My innate fascination with creating/mixing/tinkering made the Old Woman often comment that one day I might end up being a chemist or a bartender.  I'm pretty sure I've disappointed her because my tendencies run towards bartending.

My newest experiment is with home made vanillas.  I've made vanilla before with beans and vodka and/or whiskey.

This time, I've branched out.  I currently have pint bottles of vodka, whiskey, and rum with vanilla beans in them.  But I also have 1/2 pint jars of tequila and dark rum with vanilla beans.  The dark rum also has cinnamon, star anise, and cloves tossed in.  They are sitting, waiting, in the same closet I keep my stash of blackberry vodka.  In 4-6 months, I'll see what we have achieved with adventures in vanilla.

I'm thinking that the first recipe will be my standard lemon pound cake, only tweaked with lime and the tequila vodka.

Oh, and since it's Mardi Gras today . . . I had a nice shot of blackberry vodka to start my morning.

Sunday, February 01, 2015


A milestone date is coming up.  It is the birthday of the friend who died about a year and a half ago.  I was lucky to be able to spend his last birthday with him, but that also makes all subsequent birthdays more emotional for me.

This evening, I was contacted by one of his relatives.  She apologized because she only learned of his death several months after the fact and feels guilty that she wasn't able to "be there" for his family/loved ones.  She's asked for more information about his death.

This is a person I've known for many years, and most of them, I had most unpleasant opinions of her.  (She's not a terribly nice person, but she's had her own miseries in life.)  She's recently tried to be pleasant to me, which on one hand is nice but on the other tweaks my natural paranoia.  

So, do I fill her in on my friend's death?  Do I decide that she knows enough?  Do I dredge it all up, right when I'm already being mopey about it?  Do I take the opportunity to receive comfort when I need it?  


Friday, January 30, 2015

The very slow realization

Funny how friendships can end.  Sometimes, it's a big blow up with yelling and tears and lots of anger.  But, sometimes, it can be just one thing that makes you say "you know, I'm done."

I recently had a friendship end this way.  I'm sure we'll still be cordial to each other.  We'll be polite. Because that's what you do in a small town.

I'd made a comment that was intended to be funny.  I miss judged my audience and it wasn't funny.  The recipient's reaction wasn't completely unexpected, although one might say that perhaps a tad overblown.  But more than that, it made me realize that our friendship has been more about me walking on eggshells with them, and their response to my insensitive remark brought home that I'm tired of walking on eggshells for them.

Kinda a harsh realization, right?  Frankly, I'm thinking of it all more in terms of "you know, they've been pretty clear that they tolerate me because of proximity, but they'd never go out of their way for me . . . and I've gone out of my way for them plenty.  It's time to stop now."

More than anything, I'm a little embarrassed I was so slow on the up take.  Monkeys aren't real good at the nuances of human relationships, sometimes.  sigh.

Sunday, January 18, 2015

Bait and Switch

Ah the age old scam.  We fell for it.  We arrived to look at one model, were shown a smaller, sleeker model . . . but then some how ended up with something spastic.  I'm speaking, of course, of the Humane Society.

Many years ago, long before social media existed, we read a tale of woe in our local paper about a dog at the humane society shelter.  We had already spoken of getting a dog, since we'd moved into a home with a fenced in back yard.  We went to inquire, and were told that the dog we were interested was no longer available but were shown a cute puppy who fetched the ball and gave kisses and was adorable.  Paper work was completed, we went home to see if we passed their background check, and two days later, we picked up Chester.  We got him home and released him into the yard, only to watch him go completely nuts.  He ran like his tail was on fire and was generally hyper.  After watching this for a couple of minutes, the Phenom and I both said, at the same time, "you know, I thought he was smaller."  To this day, although it turns out that Chester was the perfect pick of a dog for us, we still aren't entirely sure we weren't baited, baited, and switched.

Well, it's happened again.  This time to a friend.  

A friend reposted pictures of a super pretty, fluffy kitty at the humane society.  One picture in particular was so breathtaking that she decided to give the kitty a home.  She went to inquire and was told that this particular kitty had a sibling that was very shy and needed to be adopted with the one they'd posted.  She was caught in a moment of weakness and agreed.  She took both kitties.  They are both beautiful, but the second one is needing much more care to acclimate to her home.

Then, this morning, the humane society posted that the pretty kitty had gone to his new "furever" home with his NEW brother.  NEW  . .  as in not actually siblings.  HA!  Suckers!

Sunday, December 14, 2014


I'm not religious.  In that I don't like religions.  If you want to debate the existence of a "god" or whatever, I'll bite (when in the right mood . . . or drunk . . . or high).  But, just as I see patriotism as dangerous, I see religious fervor as dangerous.  Yes, dangerous.  Way too many people have died with religious justifications in the minds of their killers.  Way too many people have been harmed, "othered", scorned, made to feel less human, due to another's religious wackiness.

The Phenom and I do not really celebrate Christmas. . . other than to use it as an excuse to go on a drinking walk-about in NOLA.  We don't put up a tree.  We don't decorate our home.  We don't exchange gifts amongst ourselves (save for airline tickets and buying the next round).

And yet, I have a pretty elaborate holiday ritual of making fruitcakes.  This year, I made 40 and at least 34 were claimed before the first raisin hit rum.

And, I secretly tear up over christmas music.

And, when I get a chance to watch a video alone, I always have to watch A Christmas Memory.

The Old Woman and I always watched this movie.  Now that she's gone, I cry over it.  Frankly, as I get older, christmas is more about being sad than rejoicing.


Friday, December 12, 2014


Take a truly miserable human and relieve them of their job and then make them work off a two week notice . . . and you have the most miserable person on the planet.  She has taken to showing up late, refusing any interaction with co-workers, and stomping around to communicate her misery.  Sadly, it has nearly reached comical levels and rather than feeling bad, the co-workers find themselves rolling their eyes and exchanging meaningful looks.

I'm torn.  I am looking forward to having this person out of our office.  Before this "two week notice" she was toxic to the office.  She was incapable of basic levels of polite interaction, she was incompetent and I'm pretty sure she's lied to me.  But, she is out of a job right before the holiday season.  I hate that for anyone.

I know in a month, we'll hardly remember her . . . save for stories of her massive toilet paper habit.

Wednesday, November 26, 2014

Never Poke a Sleeping Bear

I had a professor write this on the board, prior to the final, once.  Apparently, at 3am while grading term papers, he got poked.  A student wrote a rant about how much he hated the class, how it was a pain in his ass that he had a term paper due right before finals, and other critiques of the professor's fitness to continue breathing.  I'm sure the paper would have provoked at any time of the day, it was just the student's bad luck that it was 3am.

I've moaned about my abandonment by ESK.  Then, we hired her replacement.  We will soon be rehiring her replacement.

The Replacement's downfall has been an interesting example of how people can be their own worst enemy.  Also, how once a pattern of behavior is created, how difficult it is to break it.

To be fair, I hired The Replacement knowing that she had the reputation of being "difficult."  Silly me . . . I thought I could over come her prickliness with my charm and monkey fun.  Nope.

She refuses to be a good colleague.  When I pointed out that she needed to work harder to "fit in" with the staff, she took that to mean that she must stomp up the hall and bark "good morning" to each of us and flee before we can even return the greeting.  She seems to have created rules for our office and insists on abiding by them.  (I have told staff that they schedule their time off, just let me know your plans and if there is some task you'll need another employee to assist with in your absence.  She insists on sending me painfully formal emails requesting permission to take an hour here, and hour and a half there, of vacation leave.  Always adding in that if I will not grant her permission, please name the time and date on which I wish her to come work that tiny increment of time.)  A friend would call it being "maliciously obedient."

Today, I  had planned on treating my staff to a "fire drill" which would give them a bonus hour off just before the holiday.  Today was selected because it is one of the few days she planned to work the same schedule as the rest of us, and I felt it wasn't fair to all the staff when she was working such a very different schedule.  But, then she came in 15 minutes "early" but stayed in the work room, playing on her phone, until the "official start of her work day (8-4).  It annoyed me to the point I seriously considered cancelling the fire drill.  Lucky for everyone else, I decided to go ahead with it anyway.  Miracles of miracles, she suddenly dropped the snotty tone from her voice.  I know it is temporary.  But, we're basking in it for the moment.

I'm pretty sure this is karmic payback for being smug about how "girl games" don't infect my office like I hear about in other places of business.  I'm firing her next week.  Soon, calm will be restored.

Thursday, November 20, 2014

You just never know

when you will influence someone.

I contacted Frances of the previous story to share the story with her.  Her response was "who the heck was Deb?"  She had no memory of the conversation, but appreciated my sharing.

Reminds me of another story.  Shortly after the Old Folks decided I could pass in public school, I had a teacher who required daily journal entries.  Often, she would offer a writing prompt.  One time, the prompt was something we wanted to learn to do, and what was preventing us from doing it.

I wrote that I really wanted to learn to cook, but I didn't want to be defined by my domestic skills.  I had the buddings of being a feminist and already understood that society was all too happy to pin a single role onto the females.

My teacher wrote on my page that cooking was a wonderful creative outlet, and I shouldn't let what others say prevent me from expressing myself.

Even now, when I make something particularly good, I always think of this teacher.   Several years ago, I managed to find her and write to her about the lasting influence her words had on my life.  She had no recollection of it at all.

Take care with your words and actions because you never know when they will be deeply influential to another.

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

And they say monkeys can't cry

(it's a fact, we don't make tears.)

But, I'm definitely tearing up today.

25 years ago, I was a senior in college and doing an internship.  One morning, I sat in on a meeting with my on-campus supervisor and my internship site supervisor (Deb and Frances, respectively).  During the course of the meeting, Deb and Frances realized that they knew each others partners, but had never had the opportunity to meet each other, until that moment.

Witnessing this conversations has been one of the most influential moments in my life.  At the time, I was head over monkey-tail in love with the Phenom and didn't stop talking about him, our fun, our plans for the future, etc.  While Deb and Frances talked, I realized that they were using very vague and gender neutral terms to refer to their partners.  I felt horrible.  I realized that, as lesbians, they had to be on guard when talking about the loves of their lives.  Where I could chatter on like a silly little, brainless thing . . . they had to worry that they might accidentally reveal too much about themselves to the wrong audience and there was a very real threat in such a slip.

I have often thought of this moment.  I have referenced this moment, along with other examples, when making the case for why we need to confront homophobia, hate crimes against LGBTQ persons, and why marriage should be available to all people.

Today, Frances got married.  The right for her to marry has only recently been available to her.  And I couldn't be happier.  I might even produce the first ever monkey tears of joy.

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

The Secret Ingredient is Love

I almost said that to someone yesterday . . . but was able to stop myself.  Whew!

A friend we call Uncle Jeffy called for the Phenom yesterday. I truly enjoy it when he calls because he is easy to joke with, he gets my sense of humor, and he thinks I'm clever.  Also, he's easy to "bust" on.

He also is generous with the food related applause.  He loves my espresso brownies.  And, my double chocolate spice cookies.  And the liquor loaves. Pretty much anything I cook, he offers enthusiastic applause . . . which is the secret to getting more from me.  The Phenom is right, I do it for the applause.  Nothing wrong with being a whore.

Yesterday, he accused me of having secret ingredients or not sharing the whole recipe because when I've shared the recipe with his wife and she attempted to make them, it was a failure.

I've had another person tell me that their attempt to make the espresso brownies was a huge failure too.

I tried to explain to him the whole deal about flour and how different brands use winter or summer wheat and how this means a cup of one brand of flour is going to be more dense than a cup of another brand.  He said it made his head hurt.  And, I was going to say, that the secret ingredient was love . . . but I managed to just promise him a liquor loaf instead.

Friday, November 07, 2014

The Prickly Patient

Remember the episode of Seinfeld when Elaine gets a note in her medical record that she's difficult and eventually no doctor will see her?  The Old Woman use to predict that such would happen to me, eventually.  And, I admit, my patience level is pretty low when dealing with medical personnel.

And, I promise, today, I really was working to restrain myself.  Really.

I had to see a new doctor at a new clinic today.  Never a pleasant prospect in my mind.  They started off annoying me and progressed to me muttering unpleasantries under my breath.

First, as you walk in, there is window and a staff person.  So, naturally, as a new patient, that's where I went.  This was wrong.  If I'd bothered to wander to the OTHER SIDE of the reception area, go around a corner, and look up, I would have seen signage instructing me to go to that window, not the one at the door.   Second, they had sent me all the usual forms to fill out and bring with me.  Cool, this should save time, right?

Third, they insisted on taking my picture for their records.  I've never had this done before, and you know I've seen more than my share of medical types this year.  They insisted it was a) routine and b) done by ALL THE DOCTORS.  humpf.

Then, the nurse proceeded to ask me all the questions on the forms they asked me to fill out prior to my coming in.  One of the things that will trigger me to annoyance really fast is wasting my time.  Don't ask me for the same information more than once.  Don't ask me questions when the written answers are in front of you.

They lost even more credibility when a rather round nurse lectured me on my bmi.  I did restrain myself from explaining to her that bmi has pretty much been dismissed as an indicator of over all health.

The thing that sent me from heavily sighed restraint to muttering unpleasantries was the fact their lab tech could not draw my blood.  I warned her that I was a difficult draw and indicated a spot that has been successful in the past.  She ignored me and went for a traditional spot, even though she had a very difficult finding the vein.  Then, she did that back and forth motion with the needle trying to find the vein that didn't want to be found . . . I hate that.  I'd rather be stuck again than have you play with a needle, tearing up my arm.  She decided to try to hit a tiny vein between my fourth finger and pinky finger knuckles.  I'll tell you this . . . if a lab tech ever tries this move on you, decline it.  It doesn't work and hurts.

She gave up after the knuckle failure and sent me over to the hospital.  They hunted, used a warmer, and finally was able to spear a vein.

As I tried to pay my co-pay, I found that the person working the check out window never has worked the check out window, didn't know how to accept a payment, and ended up calling another office and verbally giving them my card number for them to run the payment.

Frankly, I don't think I'm unjustified in my annoyance.  I may be the only sane one in the building.

Wednesday, November 05, 2014

My Mission

I love having a mission when I go to NOLA.  I mean, beyond drinking and eating lots and lots.

Today, I was chatting with a dear friend who lives on the left coast.  She is in the R&D phase of opening her own eating establishment.  She has worked, for years, in professional kitchens and is a fantastic home cook as well.  And, although she is from the snowy part of the country, she married herself a Cajun boy.  Her eatery will be NOLA foods.

She has asked me to find some specific art pieces for her new eatery, as well as take pictures she can use as decorations.  She's already culled through several collections of pictures I've taken in the past and found several she likes, and has given me some ideas for specific shots she wants.

And, she is going to repay me in food.  And, did I mention she lives in a state with legal recreational pot?


Friday, October 31, 2014

Hating Change

So, ESK left me.  Something about having a baby that isn't half monkey.  Fine.  Be that way.

I've hired someone in her job.  This newbie is in no way, shape, or form anywhere close to replacing ESK.

a) I've lost count of the number of times she's rearranged her office.
b) her first assignment, she turned in less than half completed.
c) she copped attitude when I explained that she should schedule personal business on personal time. d) her normal mode of functioning seems to be passive aggressive.

BUT! the biggest oddity of the newbie is the tremendous volume of toilet paper she uses.  It's not like we see her bolting to the bathroom every 10 minutes . . . but she used a 6 pack of charmin double rolls in a week.  6 ROLLS IN A WEEK!!!

I know there was about a third of a roll in "my" bathroom when I left work last night but this morning, there is a new roll in its place.  I bought super mega rolls that a) the cheapest stuff you've ever seen in TP and b) each roll is about 9 regular rolls of TP.  She's used nearly a whole roll in one bathroom, and then the last of my roll of good stuff in my bathroom.  You'd think our toilets would be backing up with that volume.

But, fear not.  I have a 6 pack of the good stuff in my office cabinet.  It will probably last me to the end of the year . . . if not longer.

It's bad when an employee has you stashing the good TP in your office.  Well, it was bad that she put me in the position of even noticing the TP usage.  I'd rather not have an awareness of how much TP anyone uses.

(From now on, this person will be known as TP)