hours

People who smoke at work should have to work longer days. If you can take 10 min off every hour or two to go outside and huffle puffle, then let me blow your house down and say that you need to work an extra hour every day. I'm sure there is some silly law forbidding employers to ask if you are a smoker and make sure you work a full 8 hours, but what about the unwritten rules regarding full work days? Companies must be wicked trustworthy with their employees. I know I (and everyone and their mother) check personal email/shop/facebook/blog/read the news during the work day, but to an extent. I know smokers puff and do all of the above too, AND smoke up a storm. I suppose just as long as the work gets done, its all fine and good... But still, its food for thought.



So, can I start leaving an hour early and call it my "cigarette break"?

inspiration...

...to say the very least.

I only cried once during the walk. I teared up a few times after it too. Actually, so did my mom. It wasn't because of the extreme pain that was shooting up from every single one of the 26 bones in each foot or from muscle cramps or dehydration (although all worthy cry causes), but it was because of one of the posters throughout the course. It still gives me the chills.

I see a lot of people when I clown, but there are some people I will never forget. The woman who survived the Holocaust who told me that if she can survive that, cancer is a piece of cake. (She then went on to tell me she wishes girls my age would stop dating trashy guys and that she wishes the trash men would take away all the trashy men. love her.) The couple I always make small talk with a couple who are so genuine and kind. You think you are strong until you see a couple going through chemotherapy together--one of the two ladies was asleep undergoing treatment and her partner just held her hand, eyes shut with tears running down her cheeks. It was one of my most eye-opening, touching moments in my life. Kacey instantly took over Big Red and needed to walk away and compose herself. I am emotional, I know that. I have been brought to tears quite a few times while clowning and it is impossible to try to block out emotions.

The Jimmy Fund is probably the hardest place to clown. In part because the kids have Wii's and TVs and if you are not attached to a wire, they are not interested, but mostly because you see the most resilient cancer patients. These kids are just so strong, with so much hope and courage. I clowned just about every Friday at the same time this summer. I saw many of the same patients every week. Although you don't want to see the same patients at a cancer clinic every week, it was cool to develop a kind of relationship with them.

I saw Charlotte a lot this summer. I gave her and her entourage many smiley face stickers and I always checked their funny bones and let Charlotte poke my rubber red nose. It was the same routine every time. I am not one for routine, but this worked. Charlotte even made me a picture/card and left it in the volunteer office for me one day after I clowned. She was always so happy, no matter how uneasy or scared her parents looked. Incredible.

The Jimmy Fund Walk had posters throughout the course with pictures of patients and quotes as mile markers for inspiration. And to say they inspired us is an understatement. Most of the posters gave me and my team the chills. Then I came across a familiar face. I had to stop and catch my breath, as it caught me off guard. My sister was with me and we both teared up when I told her who it was.


Charlotte. It's not that I could not believe it--I recognized a few of the kids on the posters, but what really got me upset, and got my mom and sister upset, and still tears me up, is that we have the exact same hair color. I have never seen Charlotte with hair.

I'm not sure what it was about this that gets me. I see kids all the time without hair at Dana. And I see redheads all the time too. If Charlotte had blonde or brown hair, I probably still would have had a similar reaction, but the red hair somehow just connected us in a different, indescribable way. And it gave me strength. Big Red has a Little Red :)

grocery shopping etiquette

I only had to pick up a few things at the market, so I picked myself up a little basket, had my list in hand, and embarked on a quick Sunday morning adventure. I felt pretty good strolling around in my Cons, shorts, and an old Animal tee--hair a complete hot mess from last night--until I had to interact with other shoppers.

Since when is it okay to completely block isles standing side by side with another carriage? Its actually not. And don't give me a dirty look when I politely say "excuse me" to get by. Hello world, I need to pick out what flavor of seltzer I want before it loses its fizz. I love nothing more than to see an old friend and have an in-aisle catch up, but I know better than to create traffic at peak shopping hours.

On a similar traffic note-- traveling through the aisles should be done like driving. Stay to your right. And if you are looking to enter either the front or back main aisle from one of the side aisles, you need to merge. You do NOT have the right away when entering one of the main aisles, especially when you have a HUGE cart full and are having trouble steering it. Don't cut me off when I have one little basket and you are pushing one cart and pulling another. Its wicked rude and annoying. And if you do, at least have the courtesy to smile and say thank you. People are so self-centered. Maybe my parents did a good job teaching me manners and what I would consider common courtesies... But to me its just one of the things that will always piss me off. Call me old fashioned, but I cannot stand people with poor manners. Anywhere. Are times really that different "nowadays"? Shopping is kind of a social activity and if one does not have social skills, it makes it typically good experience a very unpleasant one.

I was well under the 12-item limit for the express lane. I picked the shortest of all express lanes and the person in front of my only had a can of mini Pringles-- PERFECT. Then when it is her turn to pay, she whips out her WIC business--totally fine with it, some people need a little extra help. But then she opened her mouth treating the worker like her servant. Umm no. They are there to help you and get paid to do it, but you cannot treat them without respect. The girl at the check out did her usual "Good morning, how are you?" to the woman (which a lot of checkerouters aka cashiers do not do anymore) and the woman just said, "Yeah, get me this formula" and hands her the WIC things. SO rude. It just puts me in such a terrible mood. What is happening to the world?!

Also, don't be stare at/be rude to old folk, handicapped, obese, those of different ethnic backgrounds, or anyone who may be different for one reason or another. There is so much more to a person than what they appear to be.

Oh, and don't let your kids run wild and don't give them everything they want. You lose so much credibility that way.

when you need to get your point across fast...

...just talk in abbreves. While some people hate when others abbreviate their words, I think it only adds character to the conversation. It's wicked unfortch when peeps hate on abbreviators. Get over it. I like to get my thoughts out as quickly as I can. And my words are typically too damn fab to hold in for long periods of time. Who doesn't love them a delish, fast paced convo filled with entertainingness? Don't be ridic. Everyone def does it. All my BFFLs. Even if its not just shortened words, everyone uses abbreves. When you break down you don't yell, "Shit. WTF. I need to call the American Automobile Association." You scream, "Shit. WTF. I need to call AAA." Now I'm cracking myself up writing this so I am going to throw in a: LOL. I don't have time to say, "I am laughing my freckled ass off so hard right now." No one does. When you are laughing, you laugh. HA-HA-HA. Loves it. Bout to leave ya'll and get back to worksies. In my lime green argyle sweater and black Cons. Wicked work appro.

Can't wait to get home to some good wine and watch a rom com with my manfriend. (Note: Animal hates abbreves, yet he put the idea in my head today when he told me he wanted to watch a rom com tonight)

LIG :)

never too old...

...for a first day of grad school photo!

go get em, Nathan Hartwell, Pharm D

when it is totally 100% okay to lie

No one likes a Pinocchio. Tell me the truth. The straight up, real hard truth.

Truths coming from obnoxious pricks like "you bunion is utterly heinous" need not apply. It is common knowledge that bunions are utterly heinous. But, there are times when you don't need to tell the truth.

Last night Foxy was very concerned that Earl, the hurricane that is only kind of cramping our style this weekend, will strand us in the house for weeks. She needed batteries for her radio so in case we lost power she could be connected to the world. I suppose that is responsible. Foxy is very set in her ways and needs very few things to keep her content. Her radio is probably her number one two, after her ginger granddaughter, of course. All Foxy needs, besides her family, is lunch dates at Papa Gino's with Alice, tabloids, radio, vanilla wafers, Metamucil, and Jeopardy to be happy. (Note: The Price is Right could have also been in there, but she HATES Drew Carey and has a thing for Bob Barker--but who doesn't love them a Barker?)

Anywho, back to batteries. Foxy gave Bear and I specific instructions (and $3) to go down to the dollar store and get her 4 AAs. We were Target so we nixed that demand from the queen. We bought her a 12 pack of Duracells for $10. We take them home to her and although she is a bit confused why the dollar store would sell that many for only a dollar, she went with it. And we sold it even better when we realized the spring where you put the batteries in was a little loose so they were not a tight fit so we had to legit jam the cover on to keep them in place. She thought the batteries were just duds because they were from the dollar store when actually the radio needs a new holder thing. It's fine.

Every Wednesday for ladies night Foxy cooks dinner, y'all know this. This summer has been so hot we usually just get pizza or sandwiches on our way home so she does not have to cook. We buy and then she throw money at our face to take to pay for it. You can't fight her with this. She is so anal about owing people money that you just have to take it. But, you can easily outsmart her. At Sunday Dinner, everyone leaves money every week as a courtesy for Foxy and they put it up in the clock in her kitchen behind some spices (see side). So, on Wednesday nights, we do the same thing. And she doesn't even know it. I suppose its not like we are lying to her, but we just aren't telling her anything. She finds it on Sundays with everyone's contributed Foxy loot.

Foxy is one of my favorite people ever in the whole entire world. She advises me and tells me funny stories. Actually, she gave me me a hilarious sex talk the other day.

Foxy: Don't get pregnant.
Kacey (astonished, yet shouldn't be surprised what comes out of her mouth): GRAM! Uh! That would only happen right now by immaculate conception.
Foxy: Don't do it that way, it would be too much responsibility for the kid.

How can you not love THIS woman?!

life is good. per usual :)

How much is too much?

I always top off my gas tank after it jerks at me to stop the first time. What can I say, I like to get to a number that tickles my fancy. This morning, it jerked and I did what I always do, but today, apparently I went a little overboard. Literally. I finally stopped after gasoline started trickling all down my leg and into my shoe. I knew what kind of day today would be--on edge is an understatement.

When I get overwhelmed at work (or elsewhere) with too much on my plate, instead of just coming to the conclusion there is just no way possible it is happening and be rational about it, I freak out and try to get it all done while,freaking out. I am an emotional being. Today at work I was working on an obnoxiously ridiculous project that I really had no idea how to get start/do/get done. I broke down the pieces, handed off some of the work, and realized I would just not be able to get it done today. I don't consider this unprofessional or petty or that I can't do the job, but realistically Rome was not built in a day. I am pretty sure the world will still be turning when I learn how to merge mail and finish it -gasp- tomorrow.

Sometimes I don't know when to stop. Pumping gas or eating (why can't my brain work a litttttttle faster so I know I am full-full and not making myself sick-sick) or in conversation. I over analyze everything. I try to keep everyone happy with me while often doubting my own opinions and not saying what I feel. I know I can't please everyone and I should not say things are okay when they are not. Its one big sick game. I need to trust myself and accept things for what they are. I think that is why I ask so many questions. And the same questions over and over. And over. The answers don't change. The reasons don't change. Sometimes I need a better explanation. Or it drilled in my head a little further. And my head is hard. And that is barely tolerable for most people. I need to learn that.

Albeit, it's just too much.

Gotta be real with myself, have a little patience, and relax. I don't need to know all the answers, and I need to know when to just let it be.

At the same time-- enlighten me with perspective.