A friend of mine posted on Live Journal the other day about some huge conflagration of heavenly bodies in some astrological hooha known as the Grand Cross. Planets are at right angles, stars and constellations are trined and plaited and goddess only knows what up there to cause some sort of weirdness with the Universe. You know, if you go in for all that.
Makes me wonder, though. Another friend of mine has been having a rash of klutziness...breaking things, cutting herself, putting things on wrong, etc. and today I'm about to go postal on the next poor slob who asks me anything.
Part of it is the move. I've just HAD it...up to here *indicates a foot over head*. Everyone seems to think I'm this grand, walking font of knowledge and that I can solve all sorts of problems and have limitless strength and patience, and worse, that I give a flying foo about those problems in the first place.
None of that is true. Yes, I know some things, yes, I put up with a HELLUVA lot before I break, but it's not limitless. I spent 15 minutes in the loo crying, throwing things, and talking to myself like Gollum this afternoon...I'm hoping once the push to get everything put away, organized, and neatened, and the beginning of the semester will ameliorate some of my hypersensitivity to bullshit. Probably not. Maybe the Grand Fubar will shift enough and I'll start spouting poetry and painting things pink.
Aaahhh...better I should go postal on your ass.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Monday, August 09, 2010
Are we there yet?
Theoretically, we're all moved in at work. My area is one of the last to be organized. Of course....hey, it's me! We have way less room than before, but it's very nice and way beats the tiny hole in the wall I had in the English department years ago. You'd never have believed I had the financial desk; you'd have thought I was a third-rate office assistant or something. (I still relish the story the person who came two after me told, when she told the chair how much that desk actually handled and if she were going to take it over how many assistants she needed...and how wide-eyed the chair got when he said, Really?!?! Wow, I never knew... Never did get an apology from him, but at least I got the satisfaction of knowing someone had set him straight on it.)
At any rate, these offices used to belong to women's athletics, now they're all ensconced in the fancy-schmancy new north end of DKR-Memorial Stadium, called the N-Zone. *rolls eyes* Over the years, the office areas of Bellmont have become rabbit's warrens of added walls, etc. We ended up taking several walls out to make the suites more functional. I don't have my camera here today, but I'll try to get pics up sometime.
Obama is on campus today, so the boss is there and I'm taking my lunch at my desk to write....I left Saraswati (that's my tiny Dell Inspiron) at home, or I'd be writing on it.
The boychile had first day of band camp today. Haven't texted him yet to find out how it was...but he's not texting me saying it was hell, either, so I'm assuming it was okay. We had to drop him off early so we could get to work. There was another boy there and they were all ready to wait, but the band director stuck his nose out the door and had them come in. W had let his hair grow pretty long and I'd already pretty much convinced him to get it cut, but after he went and ran around with his friends last week, shooting Airsoft rifles, we picked him up and he begged to get his hair cut...August in Texas, ya gotta love it. Personally, I could care less how long he grows it, but since he's starting off at a new middle school and repeating the 7th grade, I really don't want him labeled one of "those" kids, and you know they will.
Well, I'm off to the loo (I think that's what that song is really about, skip, skip...skip to my loo, skip to my loo, my darling--yep rapid bathroom trip, for sure), and then working on the supply room that holds about a third of what my old one did. Creative organization (and a large recycling bin)!
At any rate, these offices used to belong to women's athletics, now they're all ensconced in the fancy-schmancy new north end of DKR-Memorial Stadium, called the N-Zone. *rolls eyes* Over the years, the office areas of Bellmont have become rabbit's warrens of added walls, etc. We ended up taking several walls out to make the suites more functional. I don't have my camera here today, but I'll try to get pics up sometime.
Obama is on campus today, so the boss is there and I'm taking my lunch at my desk to write....I left Saraswati (that's my tiny Dell Inspiron) at home, or I'd be writing on it.
The boychile had first day of band camp today. Haven't texted him yet to find out how it was...but he's not texting me saying it was hell, either, so I'm assuming it was okay. We had to drop him off early so we could get to work. There was another boy there and they were all ready to wait, but the band director stuck his nose out the door and had them come in. W had let his hair grow pretty long and I'd already pretty much convinced him to get it cut, but after he went and ran around with his friends last week, shooting Airsoft rifles, we picked him up and he begged to get his hair cut...August in Texas, ya gotta love it. Personally, I could care less how long he grows it, but since he's starting off at a new middle school and repeating the 7th grade, I really don't want him labeled one of "those" kids, and you know they will.
Well, I'm off to the loo (I think that's what that song is really about, skip, skip...skip to my loo, skip to my loo, my darling--yep rapid bathroom trip, for sure), and then working on the supply room that holds about a third of what my old one did. Creative organization (and a large recycling bin)!
Saturday, August 07, 2010
10 things I love about my life
My husband. He's a rock.
My daughter and son. They're both wacky, super smart and one day the boy will be as awesome as the girl....right now...he's 13.
My mother. She has her moments, but 95% of the time she's pretty awesome.
My friends. Sylvan, S1ren, Debi, Lorrie, Kim....I don't know what I'd do without you all, and by extension Laurie, Kress, and Mel.
My critters. I loves me some fuzzbutts.
My boss. he aggravates the hell out of me at the same time he's cracking me up. I'm going to miss him when he PCS's.
Did I mention my awesome husband? :)
My son-in-law. He doth rock.
My minivan, Louisa. Weird as it seems, she was the exact right vehicle for this time in our lives.
This adorable little Dell 11.5 laptop. I wuvs it.
The intarwebs and Mr. Google. God, I love Googling stuff! :)
My daughter and son. They're both wacky, super smart and one day the boy will be as awesome as the girl....right now...he's 13.
My mother. She has her moments, but 95% of the time she's pretty awesome.
My friends. Sylvan, S1ren, Debi, Lorrie, Kim....I don't know what I'd do without you all, and by extension Laurie, Kress, and Mel.
My critters. I loves me some fuzzbutts.
My boss. he aggravates the hell out of me at the same time he's cracking me up. I'm going to miss him when he PCS's.
Did I mention my awesome husband? :)
My son-in-law. He doth rock.
My minivan, Louisa. Weird as it seems, she was the exact right vehicle for this time in our lives.
This adorable little Dell 11.5 laptop. I wuvs it.
The intarwebs and Mr. Google. God, I love Googling stuff! :)
Friday, August 06, 2010
Ten things I'm sick of hearing.
It is what it is. Uh...really...it is? You sure it's not something else? Positive?
Supposably. Is this supposed to be supposed and opposable together? As in a supposed thumb of opposition? It's supposEDly, folks.
May when you mean might. This one really bugs me, because then when you say may, as in giving permission, people think it's a possibility. Eddie may come over after school. That means Eddie has my permission to come over, not Eddie might come over...which is possible, or not, depending on whether his mother says he may and he can, as in he's able to.
Less when you mean fewer. I'll use fewer tissues when there's less pollen in the air.
Thoroughbred when you mean purebred. Thoroughbred is a breed of horse, period. It does not denote bloodlines. Purebred is the word you want when you're talking about your pweshus widdle snookie-wookums dust-mop Yorkie.
People saying the President isn't a natural-born citizen. Get over this one, folks. Just because you don't have the BALLS to admit you're racist, doesn't mean Mr. Obama wasn't born IN Hawaii, WHEN it was already a state. Get.over.it.
People thinking that New Orleanians hang out in the Quarter, are drunks, and show their tits to strangers on demand. That drunk chick, bobbling her boobies on Bourbon Street? That's your daughter, Mr. Iowa Farmer. Unless she's on a balcony, and then it's more than likely your son.
You can be fat AND fit. Sorry, guys, that one's a total oxymoron. By the very nature of the condition, obesity is the embodiment (no pun intended) of malnutrition and "unfitness." I'm all about loving ourselves, etc. but don't kid yourself into taking a trip on De Nial....
Oh, you'll change your mind.... to women who don't want children. They might. They might not. Not.your.business. By the same token, labeling someone as a horrible example of womanhood or some kind of failure because she decides--whatever her reasons are--not to have kids, is insulting and unfair.
Comic Sans hatred. I like Comic Sans and all you haters can just font off.
Supposably. Is this supposed to be supposed and opposable together? As in a supposed thumb of opposition? It's supposEDly, folks.
May when you mean might. This one really bugs me, because then when you say may, as in giving permission, people think it's a possibility. Eddie may come over after school. That means Eddie has my permission to come over, not Eddie might come over...which is possible, or not, depending on whether his mother says he may and he can, as in he's able to.
Less when you mean fewer. I'll use fewer tissues when there's less pollen in the air.
Thoroughbred when you mean purebred. Thoroughbred is a breed of horse, period. It does not denote bloodlines. Purebred is the word you want when you're talking about your pweshus widdle snookie-wookums dust-mop Yorkie.
People saying the President isn't a natural-born citizen. Get over this one, folks. Just because you don't have the BALLS to admit you're racist, doesn't mean Mr. Obama wasn't born IN Hawaii, WHEN it was already a state. Get.over.it.
People thinking that New Orleanians hang out in the Quarter, are drunks, and show their tits to strangers on demand. That drunk chick, bobbling her boobies on Bourbon Street? That's your daughter, Mr. Iowa Farmer. Unless she's on a balcony, and then it's more than likely your son.
You can be fat AND fit. Sorry, guys, that one's a total oxymoron. By the very nature of the condition, obesity is the embodiment (no pun intended) of malnutrition and "unfitness." I'm all about loving ourselves, etc. but don't kid yourself into taking a trip on De Nial....
Oh, you'll change your mind.... to women who don't want children. They might. They might not. Not.your.business. By the same token, labeling someone as a horrible example of womanhood or some kind of failure because she decides--whatever her reasons are--not to have kids, is insulting and unfair.
Comic Sans hatred. I like Comic Sans and all you haters can just font off.
Time to get cracking..
..or posting. I'm paying about $105 a year for this dang website, so I need to like...you know...USE IT? What a concept.
At the moment, typing is somewhat painful...we've been moving at work, as I might have mentioned, and I'm dead tired, I hurt all over and my trigger spots (hips, shoulders {esp. the left}, wrists, hands, feet) are hurting on top of the hurts. Packing, unpacking, running back and forth directing traffic, trying to do my regular job on top of it, plus the special projects that are involved in a new place and tearing down the old one. And then my 13-YO son had the unmitigated gall to say *I* don't do anything... *falls face down*
I have an IKEA hack post to finish...so imma get to it now.
ETA: The IKEA hack draft is on my other computer and the boy is watching Netflix on it. so....I'll make lists instead.
At the moment, typing is somewhat painful...we've been moving at work, as I might have mentioned, and I'm dead tired, I hurt all over and my trigger spots (hips, shoulders {esp. the left}, wrists, hands, feet) are hurting on top of the hurts. Packing, unpacking, running back and forth directing traffic, trying to do my regular job on top of it, plus the special projects that are involved in a new place and tearing down the old one. And then my 13-YO son had the unmitigated gall to say *I* don't do anything... *falls face down*
I have an IKEA hack post to finish...so imma get to it now.
ETA: The IKEA hack draft is on my other computer and the boy is watching Netflix on it. so....I'll make lists instead.
Monday, August 02, 2010
Holy Fuster Cluck, Batman!
Ow. I could end right there and have said it all. We're moving. At work, we're moving. The ROTC units at UT have been in the same building for 53 years, but the College of Liberal Arts decided it was time to tear that building down and build a big, shiny, new CLA building it its place.
At first they were trying to put all three units in the Geography building, which is older and smaller than ours. The commanders collectively kind of said..um...no...not unless you make some renovations. And to be quite honest, the GRG was just not usable the way it was. So the Navy guys were trying to solicit donations. Turns out CoLA didn't have enough money to finish tearing down our building and build the new one....an anonymous donor plunked down what they needed, with the proviso ROTC mus be in the new building. Long and short...we've all been moved to the spaces all the departments in GRG were going to be temporarily housed in while waiting for their new homes in CLA.
Army and Navy are in one building and we're in another. We're in a building that's basically slapped on the west side of DKR-Memorial Stadium. Nice digs, but much, much smaller than what we had. Holy flaky crust...our move evidently was more organized, and smaller than the other two. Good grief, I'd hate to have been in on those moves! I was at work until 10:15 Friday night packing, and got to work today at 0735, bucket o'bagels and gallon of coffee in hand, and didn't stop until after 1700 (that's 5 PM, y'all). My pains have pains. Sweet marinated Jesus on the barbie...ow. Just ow.
And while all the "stuff" has been moved, it's far from being all arranged, let alone all the shit put away. And Colonel Bossman will be driving me nuts to get things put away, pictures hung, bladeboop.
I'm too fucking old for this shit.
At first they were trying to put all three units in the Geography building, which is older and smaller than ours. The commanders collectively kind of said..um...no...not unless you make some renovations. And to be quite honest, the GRG was just not usable the way it was. So the Navy guys were trying to solicit donations. Turns out CoLA didn't have enough money to finish tearing down our building and build the new one....an anonymous donor plunked down what they needed, with the proviso ROTC mus be in the new building. Long and short...we've all been moved to the spaces all the departments in GRG were going to be temporarily housed in while waiting for their new homes in CLA.
Army and Navy are in one building and we're in another. We're in a building that's basically slapped on the west side of DKR-Memorial Stadium. Nice digs, but much, much smaller than what we had. Holy flaky crust...our move evidently was more organized, and smaller than the other two. Good grief, I'd hate to have been in on those moves! I was at work until 10:15 Friday night packing, and got to work today at 0735, bucket o'bagels and gallon of coffee in hand, and didn't stop until after 1700 (that's 5 PM, y'all). My pains have pains. Sweet marinated Jesus on the barbie...ow. Just ow.
And while all the "stuff" has been moved, it's far from being all arranged, let alone all the shit put away. And Colonel Bossman will be driving me nuts to get things put away, pictures hung, bladeboop.
I'm too fucking old for this shit.
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