Unprecedented Monday Turnabout

www.someecards.com

Have you ever had a day so bad, so miserable, so useless, that you're convinced there is absolutely no way that it will get better until the sun goes down and gets back up again (maybe a few times over)? Sure you have. But have you ever had a rotten day that, by the very tail end of it, gets suddenly pretty good all at once almost as if just to spite you? Those are rare, I know, but I had one of those yesterday.

I feel like Monday, August 29th, was taunting me. First of all, Monday. Ew. Of course, when you're not working, Mondays don't mean a whole lot, but I still have plenty of memories of those first days back in the office, knowing there isn't enough coffee and YouTube shenanigans to make the day okay. Secondly, I had to fast for a three-hour glucose test in the morning, meaning my last food intake was at 8 p.m. Sunday until well after noon on Monday. Double yuck. It's not that fasting is all that horrible when you're not doing it to right some injustice or, you know, get yourself out of a lifetime prison sentence (I'm looking at you Jeffs), but I just don't like it. I don't like how it applies to me and my stomach, and I'm definitely not one of those people who joyfully skips a meal. The worst part was I couldn't even drink a glass of water. I believe that plus a running soundtrack of "Two and a Half Men" is what my own personal hell is like.

No coffee, no food, no water, I went to my OB/GYN for the stupid glucose test. I had my blood drawn at 9 a.m. and then they gave me a bottle of sugar water to drink (think the syrup used for sno cones or slushies, except without the cold, refreshing ice to water it down). It's like drinking straight from the box of soda syrup at a fast food restaurant before it gets mixed with the carbonation. I've always been a fan of sugar (used to eat it straight up out of the jar in my youth), but oh my, after hours of no water or food, drinking a bottle of that fruit-punch glucose was not refreshing. At all. It made my teeth rattle and my whole body convulse. But, I'm a big girl, so I drank it down quickly and then began the waiting game.

I had one hour to spend before they took my blood again, and in that hour I had a whole array of feelings: sickness, dizziness, nausea, chills, seeing those little floating white spots at the corners of my eyes, wanting to stab the lady next to me who kept sipping her bottle of water, hatred for everyone and everything, sleepiness, a slight rage that was hampered by utter lack of energy, etc. It very well may have been the longest hour of my life (and I say that having seen "Hobo with a Shotgun"). Finally, it was 10:16 am and my blood was ready for harvesting. We did that song and dance again at 11:15 and then for the last time at 12:15.

Finally I had been sufficiently poked and drained of my will to live (and now I feel like I have a better understanding of what those girls who live at the Playboy Mansion feel like). The only thing that could make things look up was lunch. Lots of lunch. But I couldn't eat much due to my complete lethargy. What a cruel joke, am I right? I ate as much as I could and I drove, listlessly, back home to sleep off my food and sugar coma.

I had a nap, a long one, but it wasn't very restful. It was one of those in which you feel like something's amiss, though you don't know what. I had turned my phone to silent, because hell hath no fury like a hungry sleepy me who gets awoken prematurely. When I did awake, somewhere around 4 p.m., I had missed some phone calls and texts, and they all told me bad news. Not a great way to wake up. I grumped my way through the afternoon, made dinner, ate, and then trudged off to yoga. I didn't really want to go to yoga, but I made myself for the sake of my mood and the benefit of the others in the house (who don't want to deal with a hungry, sleepy, sugar-infused sad sack such as I was yesterday). I stretched at yoga, still seeing those damn white spots in the corners of my eyes. I meditated, though I had a really hard time focusing, and then left feeling a little better but still not great.

I got home around 8:30 p.m., grateful that the day was almost over. This Monday could go suck an egg for all I cared. I mean, let's just get this thing done with and move on. And that's when things suddenly, and astonishingly, got really good. What the hell is that all about, Monday? I swear, you're just trying to prove me wrong when I'm having a good time having a miserable time. Pbblllltththththt.

I found a box from Amazon.com on my doorstep. Well, actually, RC found it and brought it in earlier, but I paid no mind to it. I hadn't ordered anything, so for all I knew it was the hospital that I owe money to sending me another bill in a really creative way. But when I got home from yoga, I decided, "Hey, let's just put the final nail in the coffin of Monday and carry on." So, I opened that surprise box. Usually unsolicited things on my doorstep (as long as they're not trying to sell me some service or deity that I don't want or need) are welcome, but it was just a bad day and I had a bad attitude. But when I opened that box, I was overjoyed to see blue wrapping paper. My sweet, awesome, dear, lovely friend Erin had sent the Blueberry his very first gifts! Awww. So cute. There was a Sleepy Sheep that makes ocean and rain sounds for some lovely white noise (and I totally used that thing when I went to bed last night. I am not above sleeping with a stuffed animal.) And then a little sleep outfit for the Blueberry when he decides to quit kicking my liver from the inside and make his earthly debut.

The gifts put a genuine, real-deal smile on my face. At that point, I felt brave enough to open an envelope from the hospital that was on the kitchen counter. It had come earlier in the day, and I felt like if I didn't open it, it wouldn't exist. With a Sleepy Sheep firmly in the crook of my elbow, I opened that stupid bill. They had sent me a few in a row, all claiming that I owed them more than $400 for an ER visit in June that I had already paid $250 for. I opened the latest installment of "Here's the inflated number of dollars we decided you owe us" and...oh...there was....no...that can't be right....they're messing with me.... They had "adjusted" my balance by $382.57 and my new balance is now $36.59. I read it four times, just to be sure I wasn't still in some sort of Sheepy/Sugar coma. I blinked a few times and still saw $36.59. I've wasted more money than that on two drinks in West Hollywood! I turned to RC, raising my arms victoriously, and demanded a hug. Somehow, I found myself in the midst of the "Best Monday night ever." Well, maybe not the best, but certainly a hell of a lot better than the damn day started. To celebrate, I had toast at 10:30 p.m. followed by some water. It was delicious.

Miracle Beach

When I was 15 years old, I read "A Tale of Two Cities" by Charles Dickens. I already knew I wanted to be a writer at that time, but that book changed me. It was the first set of written words bound together that made me cry--to feel real, tangible, drippy emotions. I have loved that book, and Dickens, since then.

A year or two before delving into that book, I met a girl named Erin.

Recently I found some photos from the first time I got to spend time with her, and by the sheer amount of photos I uncovered of her, I remembered something long forgotten: From Day 1, she was the person I emulated. I met her when her uncle married my cousin, and immediately I liked her. Not because she was beautiful (she was and still is), not because she had the best clothes (I coveted her flowered dress that night), and not because she had better hair than anyone I'd ever met (all serious considerations for a 13-year old girl), but because she was just so very much herself.

Erin and I became friends immediately. I was extremely excited about this fact because I thought she was the greatest thing since...well, ever...and I figured the fact alone she wanted to be my friend meant that I was worth something. In my formative years I didn't have much self esteem, as it goes with a lot of young girls. I was certainly the least financially sound member of my school age group of friends. I couldn't do all the things they did, or join all the clubs, or have the expensive hobbies. I don't know if they noticed much, but I sure as hell did. I carried that chip of being the wellfare girl. I got free lunch. I couldn't buy the newest ski jackets, or buy a season pass for the ski season, or buy trendy jeans. (I could be the funny one, though. That was free.) Erin, throughout our entire friendship, never once made me doubt my self worth. She never made me feel bad about who I was or where I came from, even at a time when I felt bad about it constantly. Somehow, she never made me feel "less than." Not even a little bit. And when you're a teenage girl in a group of other teenage girls, all vying for attention and boyfriends and being "better" than someone, that's quite a feat.

After high school, as it goes with so many friendships, Erin and I weren't as close as we were when we got to see each other every day. She went to college. I went to college. She went to more college at the college I went to college at, but after I had graduated, so we missed being in the same location. I moved, she moved, etc. Life gets in the way. But it never failed that when I did reconnect with her, it was like we didn't miss a day. Like we were hanging outside our lockers all over again. I love that about us. She is so brilliant, so accomplished, so outstanding, and to this day I feel like that proud 13-year-old girl who gets to call her my friend.

Erin's first novel was published this month. It came out August 4th, and as I anxiously counted down the days to when her book would be available, I watched my bank account dwindle to nothing. Not like, 'oh, I only have $200 in the bank.' Seriously nothing. No dollars. Zero. I couldn't buy her book, and I felt that shame...that 13-year-old, free-lunch-eating, no-cool-clothes-having shame. This whole unemployment plus pregnancy thing is making my financial situation pathetic, and I felt horrible that I couldn't buy her novel the day it came out, to read it and declare triumphantly that I finished it that first week. I know she wouldn't care. But I do. For all the years and the times she has made me proud to be her friend, I felt like I was letting her down.

Finally last week I had some cash flowing into my account, and the first damn thing I did was order "Miracle Beach" by Erin Celello. I received the book Saturday afternoon. I started reading it around 5:30 p.m., and I finished it at midnight. Finished it. All in one sitting. And you know what happened for the second time in my life? I cried like a baby. Not because she's my friend, not because she achieved this amazing goal of getting her first novel published, but because her words honestly made me cry.

So, Erin, again I am in awe of you. You are now in the company of Mr. Charles Dickens on the very short list of authors who made me feel real, drippy, tangible emotions. I have two novel-writing heroes now.

Oh, and those of you who aren't Erin, you need to buy her book.
http://www.amazon.com/Miracle-Beach-Erin-Celello/dp/0451233824/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1314070413&sr=8-1

Maternity Test No Longer Pending

I like words. My blog is full of them. But every now and then you probably don't want to read a 1,500-word missive on whatever crap I'm thinking of at the time. I feel your pain. And I'm here to make you happy.

My two new favorite photos are of my son (whoa...that's weird to type) who will be born sometime before the end of 2011. He better be, anyway, because I miss taking a full, deep breath and I miss my clothes. And I miss being able to eat junk food without guilt. This kid and his healthy food cravings are really starting to irk my dormant potato chip habits. Seriously. I mean, how many organic strawberries can one girl eat? I'm currently finding that out.

When I first found out I was pregnant, I joked with RC that I wanted a maternity test because he's a professional racer and, as I concluded, Lord only knows who the mother of this kid is. He's gone racing and riding and I don't know what. This kid could be anyone's, really. About a month and a half ago, we went to have a full 3D ultrasound (totally trippy, by the way) and we got to see the little one's face. The good news is he's pretty darn cute.

He ever-so-slightly resembles RC, so no worries there. But there was still that nagging question of the maternity of this child. Who could it be? Well, when we got the second photo, all questions were answered:

That's my boy! Let's see, one cute picture and then one of him flipping us off in utero. Yep, definitely mine.

By the way, he's grounded the minute he's born.

And I'm Still Unemployed? Amazing!

I have been unemployed since the end of October 2010. For those of you who aren't good at math, that's about 10 months. For those of you who are good at math, it's been 318 days. I have sent my resume to countless companies, I've hit up old friends and colleagues, I've groveled, I've whined, and yet I'm still unemployed. So, this week I got sick of sending out the stuffy, serious version of my resume. I don't think it represents me very well. For the past week, I've been sending my new and improved resume  every day...and this is it. Yep, still unemployed, but now at least I feel like prospective employers will get a better idea of who I am.

CC

Objective

To be employed (duh). Here's where I'm supposed to string together a bunch of abstract words that make me sound like the greatest and smartest employee on Earth. But you'd be remiss if you didn't, for a split second, think, 'Hey, wait, if she's the greatest and smartest, why doesn't she have a job?' Well, that's quite observant of you. I just moved to the Phoenix area and I know no one. My past jobs have all been 'word of mouth' hires, so I didn't have to type out all the great things about me—I just let other people tell my bosses how awesome I am. I can tell you that I'm bright and enjoy being proud of my work, which leads me to work diligently. My former bosses have all attested they came to rely on my work ethic and dazzling personality and couldn't imagine doing a job without me. Obviously, they found a way, but they're not necessarily happy about it.

Experience

Race Media and PR Coordinator for American Suzuki Motor Corp.

Acorn Woods Communications

2009-2010

Wrote press releases and press packets for each of Suzuki's professional race endeavors, including Motocross, Supercross, ATV Motocross, GNCC Motorcycle and ATV, and Superbike on a weekly basis. Managed all social media for racing projects, including Facebook, Twitter, and SuzukiCycles.com. Created and edited video content, ran contests, and garnered a large fan base for Suzuki Racing on all social media fronts. Provided on-site support and facilitation of media interviews with racers as well as fan meet-and-greet sessions and other promotional appearances. Traveled 26 weekends January through October, making my rental car status "Frequent renter who hates Chevy Aveos…so let's give her one with windows you have to manually roll up and down. Every. Time." Suzuki won multiple championships during my tenure, but hasn't won another title since I left. Coincidence?

Managing Editor, Quad Off-Road Magazine

Transworld Media

2005-2009

I was hired and relocated to create a brand-new magazine venture for Transworld Media and Time Inc. From the initial concept to the printing of the very first issue in July of 2005, I was instrumental in the feel, look, and content of the magazine. Edited every article and department in the magazine to ensure correct information about vehicles, grammatical structure, magazine format and spelling. Wrote monthly departments and articles, from technical know-how to adventure stories (I crashed and almost didn't make it out of Baja Mexico once. True story.). Worked late hours on tight deadlines and didn't stop until the job was done and done well. Wrote headlines, captions, cover lines, rewrote stories by less-than-adept contributors. Handled all payment of contractors, answered reader emails, put together prize packages for contests, updated the web site (some of which can still be found now on outdoorlife.com), brainstormed adventure and feature stories for future issues, styled photo shoots, assisted photographers, edited layout of the magazine in InDesign to help the art director get each story to fit properly in the allotted space, slept infrequently, loved almost every minute of it (except for the aforementioned crashing in Mexico).

Associate Editor, ATV Sport and ATV Magazine

Ehlert Publishing

2003-2005

My first professional job out of college that mixed my previous experience as a parts and accessories salesperson at a motorcycle and ATV dealership with my writing and editing prowess. I wrote and edited stories for four different magazines, conducted interviews, reviewed products and new machines, helped design the web site, shot photos for my own stories, and covered ATV races all around the country.

Education

Northern Michigan University

Master's Degree                                                Creative Writing/Journalism/Editing

Skills

·      InDesign           

·      iMovie           

·      Photoshop           

·      Creating Social Media Initiatives

·      Web

·      Facebook

·      Twitter           

·      YouTube

·      Creativity

·      Writing Entertaining Copy           

·      Editing           

·      Flying By the Seat of My Pants           

           

           

                                   

Mud Pie with a Side of Gluttony

By request, I am posting the recipe I sent to Nikki a month ago (with a few tweaks for fun). She thinks I should share it with the world, and who am I to argue? 

So, here's how I do my mud pie:

Buy an Oreo pie crust from the store.

Then go to the dangerous and full-of-temptation ice cream section and get a pint of coffee-flavored ice cream. Just one. Don't look at the new Ben and Jerry's selections. No good will come of it.

Okay, coffee ice cream has been collected. Does your basket look empty? It does. Go ahead and cure that by stuffing a jar or hot fudge in there, maybe some slivered almonds, and if you're really frisky, some carmel sauce, too. Did I mention Cool Whip? I didn't, but I should've. Get some.

Now go home and put all the ingredients on the kitchen counter and stand there with a big soup spoon. Eat it all before anyone knows that good stuff is in the house. I'd say sit at the kitchen table and eat it, but you don't deserve to sit down due to your utter lack of self control.

Tomorrow, with guilt and a sugar buzz to beat hell, slink back to the store and buy all that shit again. Pray that you don't get the same cashier as you had yesterday. If you do, look ashamed and hope she believes it.

Okay, once you've collected the goods AGAIN, don't eat it all tonight when you get home. PROMISE ME YOU WON'T EAT IT ALL! Now, you need the ice cream to soften up. Leave it on the counter for a while. MY GOD, STEP AWAY FROM THE SOUP SPOONS. You don't want the ice cream to get soupy, but it needs to be pliable. Act like knowing the meaning of "pliable" can erase the guilt of eating all that junk last night.

Once the ice cream has softened, spoon it into the pie crust. The ratio is three scoops into the pie crust tin, one in your face....you glutton. Once you've filled the crust with ice cream, you can, if you so choose, sprinkle it with almonds. Put that bitch back in the freezer to harden. Leave it there. No, don't go look at it. It's going to take a while to harden up, probably overnight. Just quit thinking about it.

The next day, if it's still in the freezer, congratulations, you're not a complete jerk. You may now slice up the pie. I hope for your sake you have told other people about this pie in the freezer to keep you honest...and fitting into your pants. Put a slice on a plate. Put the hot fudge in the microwave and make it hot (it's in the name, so it's meant to be). Pour hot fudge on that slice. DON'T POUR IT ON THE WHOLE PIE. JEEZ, YOU HAVE NO DIGNITY, DO YOU? Now you may pour caramel on your slice. Then comes the Cool Whip. Make it look like a sugar coma on a plate just waiting to happen. I won't judge you. Except I totally will. And I am.

Enjoy it. Lick the plate clean, you Fatty McFatterson.

Dear....

Dear Old Man Sitting in the Coffee Shop Holding His Cell Phone to His Ear,

You do know that your phone is switched to speakerphone, don't you? You don't have to hold it up to your ear like that. I am 60 feet away and can understand everything that woman is saying. Either switch it off speakerphone, or have a more interesting conversation. Please.

Thanks,
The rest of the patrons at the Barnes and Noble cafe



Dear Phoenix,

How about you work on looking like the part of Arizona that I drove through yesterday? You know, mountains and trees and beautiful scenery. That would be great. Let me know if there's anything I can do to help.

Regards,
Midwesterner who loves the color green



Dear Bank of America Account Notifications,

Yes, I do realize I have a low balance. Every time I spend $5 you rub it in that it's getting lower. Just because I have a low account balance doesn't give you the right to lower my self esteem every 4-6 hours. Let's just agree that my wealth accumulation will be below an acceptable level for a while, okay?

Thanks,
Buying one cup of coffee isn't going to overdraw my account. I hope.



Dear Blueberry,

I know quarters are getting cramped, but let's be clear on one thing: My liver, ribs and kidneys were there first. They'll make room for you, but you don't have to be so pushy. Good thing I already know you're cute, otherwise this behavior would be labeled "questionable" at best.

Sincerely,
Owner of said organs



Dear Politicians,

I have a novel idea. It's called common sense. Can we ditch all this party line crap and do something decent on the first try without all the posturing and B.S.? You just wasted a whole bunch of time to do something that's not that difficult. I'm looking at all of you, so don't start pointing fingers.

Suck it up,
A former tax payer



Dear Hips,

You think yoga is tough? You're in for a rude awakening at the end of the November. Let's work on being more flexible, shall we?

Much appreciated,
Soon-to-be mommy