I have these projects at work that take FOREVER to finish. I just wrapped one up yesterday morning and was estatic. I don’t know why though, now that I look back. Because these projects are never, ever finished.
Because WITHOUT FAIL, every single project that I think is dead, buried, and done comes back to me a few days/weeks later. Something needs revision, someone wants further explanation, something isn’t right. Or maybe some of these projects are just sadistic and want to see my eyes water and my heart fail. Yes, I think the answer is that these projects are mean little guys…mean little never-dying projects.
I need a silver bullet to take one of these out for good. Actually, I think that’s what kills werewolves? Plus I bet my office frowns on bullets through the computer screen… How do you kill zombies? Because whatever that is, that’s what I need.
How much did Chicago pay you?
I think a good way to tell how high you are on the corporate totem pole is to see the kind of random assignments outside of your actual job description you’re asked to do. Thus, I figured you’re probably very interested in the exciting life of floor 27′s Stairwell Monitor #2. Yes, you heard me: the secondary Stairwell Monitor, responsible for “supervising and monitoring evacuation flow while remaining calm and encouraging an orderly evacuation” near the stairs by the men’s room.
I was so good at my job, I think that next fire drill I might even promoted to Stairwell Monitor #1 and be responsible for assisting the disabled, or maybe even Elevator Monitor if I’m lucky. Someday if I play my cards right, maybe I’ll make it all the way to floor Fire Warden. But for now, I guess I’ll just dream of the day when I get to evacuate the building with everyone else…
Now I’m not sure how high you have to get on the corporate ladder to avoid being the stairwell monitor for the company fire drill, but I’m guessing that you’re probably safe on Rung #2…
A quick quote from The Denver Post:
“Troy Tulowitzki, a whiz defensively at shortstop, lost the NL rookie of the year award because Milwaukiee’s Ryan Braun, the winner, had better power numbers. But slugger Matt Holliday missed out on the NL MVP award because, they say, Philadelphia’s Jimmy Rollins was a better defender. And defense trumps power. Something here is amiss.”
Somebody put out a whole shopping bag full of Hershey’s Kisses in the break room sometime on Friday night. I was the only one in the office on Sunday. I think that maybe there’s a slight chance that I ate an excessive amount of Kisses…
A proverb says that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. I’m starting to think that so are the roads to saddlebags and love handles…
I got into work on Sunday and found the bag in the break room while I was getting water. I didn’t think too much about it, grabbed a Kiss and got to work. Because I drink water like a camel in a desert, I was back in the break room in 5 minutes (or maybe I subconsciously just wanted more chocolate…hmm…) Anyway, this trip I brought a small handful back to my desk with me. Those lasted maybe 15 minutes. The next trip didn’t even disguise itself as a water run. I went to the break room and did a two-handed grab of chocolatey delight.
In my defense, my intention was to 1) use chocolate as a reward to help motivate me to work and 2) save the majority of them for Monday. The system started out well. I divided out my reward pile and put the rest away. I got back to work and rewarded myself with a Kiss whenever I finished steps of my project. This is where the system started unravelling. Soon, my goals to reach Kiss-dom were fairly small. As in “I found the page with the information I need…Kiss!” And thus my reward pile dwindled.
The problem really started when my reward pile was all gone after I had finished something actually deserving of a reward. And what’s the point of a reward system if you don’t get a prize at the end? So I broke into the ‘tomorrow’ stash.
I was on a roll in my project at that point and was kind of cruising along. All of a sudden, I looked over at the Gigantic Pile of foil that had accumulated on my desk and had one of those “who ate all of my Kisses?” moments. It was then that I decided that I really did need to put the chocolate away before I accidentally ate my calculator without realizing it…
Except for then my OCD-esque tendencies kind of took over. Because I couldn’t put the chocolate away when the number of Kisses in each color of foil wasn’t even. I had to fix the foil issue before storing the chocolate. So I ate more…
After things were all even, the pile looked pretty small. It was at that point that I decided it probably wasn’t worth “going through the hassle” of saving just a few chocolates. I guess I could liken it to Joey on Friends worrying about becoming the kind of guy who only eats half a Power Bar and then saves the rest for later. I mean really. So I finished them off and ended the day when I ate approximately my body weight in Hershey’s Kisses…
All in all, I do not find it to be coincidental that my dessert consumption is directly proportionate to the amount of overtime that I work.
I have entered a rather busy time at work as of late. It turns out that getting everything done for the end of the year makes for a rather stressful November. Lots of long hours and for the first time ever, weekends. That said, I had a rather frustrating afternoon. And afternoons like this can only be solved by one thing. Gelato.
The gelato shop is one of my favorite places in Denver, mainly because it houses one of my favorite desserts in the entire world. I love gelato. Thus, the discovery of a place that devotes itself to the sweet-delicious-goodness-of-ice-cream-perfected a MERE THREE BLOCKS FROM MY OFFICE is kind of like heaven smiling down and saying “I love you, Rachel.”
The story gets even better because I have discovered that the gelato store has further aligned its interests with my own. Not only to those kind folks dedicate their afternoons to helping me keep my sanity, but they have added a Financial Incentive for me to come. Because I get airline miles. That’s right, I’m rewarded with free airline miles Every Time! I eat gelato. It’s kind of like Cellulosa (the Greek goddess of obesity) is smiling down and saying, “Don’t feel guilty about indulging yourself, Rachel. Don’t worry that you use ice cream as a coping mechanism. It’s good for you — would you be getting airline miles for every dollar you spent if it weren’t? I don’t think so.” And that’s the kind of logic that I can succomb to.
I ordered my straticella and the kid scooping asked me what size. At that point, it was kind of like my stomach was smiling down and saying, “Eh, what the hell(-ato)? If I’m getting miles for this…” Large, please!
I don’t care what the vote says. Tulowitzki deserved to beat Ryan Braun for Rookie of the Year. It just goes to show that a Mountain Time zone and a defensive mindset doesn’t get recognition in the eyes of the nation. Braun is a great slugger, I agree. And we are a nation that loves when you can swing for the fences. But he also fields about as capably as Paris Hilton. Lots of guys hit home runs; how many short stops are credited with an unassisted triple play in their rookie year? Or any year, for that matter? If anyone outside of the Denver metro area had paid attention to this kid before the Rockies post-season run in September, they would have seen a season worth of Golden Golve worthy fielding statistics, gravity-defying acrobatic leaping catches, and off-balance, on-target throws that most players could only dream of.
I was set to diatribe about this for much longer. Instead, I will be content to link to someone at ESPN who’s more qualified to argue the point than me. And then I will go to work on honoring an athlete who deserves more than second place by spending my time building a wiki fan site. Stop by Tulowiki if you have anything to add. Site’s under construction but I’m working on it.
Today I went to the opera for the first time. Here are some observations and thoughts about the whole experience:
- The average opera attendee is probably eligible for AARP.
- The people who cart their children to the opera either have kids who are extremely cultured, kids who are extremely bribed, or parenting skills of the extremely naive.
- Monochromatic sets are quite striking. I wonder how they keep the white set clean? Lots of Scotch Guard, probably.
- Life would be much more entertaining if people conversed in opera. Because really, if people were to have fights with their boyfriend in high pitched Italian, I would be much more inclined to…okay, I would be much more inclined to watch domestic disputes. Hmmm…maybe that’s not such a good thing after all…
- I don’t think that people suffering from mysterious illnessness would be singing like that on their deathbed.
- I wish I had brought binoculars. Not so much because I wanted to see more but because I think it would have made the lady with the opera glasses next to me feel uncomfortable. I also wish that I would have brought up cultured topics for her to overhear during intermission: stuff like Monster Truck rallies and Ultimate Fighting. (I actually did talk to my brother about a video from College Humor…I might have come pretty close on this one…)
- Reading the translations was great and not great all at once. I read the synopsis before each act with the intent of being able to know what was going on and just listen to the music. Turns out that I kept checking the translation for fear of misreading. A dad telling the son’s girlfriend that she was ruining the family couldn’t really be taking this long, could it? Yes, it could. Okay, just checking.
On the other hand, I kind of felt like having the translations continually flashing up made me feel compelled to read them, and I think that it was much easier to enjoy the whole experience just listening and watching.
Overall, I really enjoyed the opera. The sets were fantastic, the singing and orchestra were beautiful, and the story was well-done and nicely conveyed. I was really prepared for the worst and was pleasantly surprised by the whole thing. Which is saying something because I was able to reach this enjoyment status in spite of a headache. If that’s not a ringing endorsement, I’m not sure what is.
Dandelions are not flowers. I get it. But does not being a flower mean that they have to be a weed?
I think dandelions are happy. Maybe I’m just a little nostaglic for childhood memories, but I have nothing but fond memories of those little “weeds.” I recall countless mornings of going out to “pick flowers” for mom, which she of course dutifully put in water. Recesses throughout elementary school were spent rubbing the bloom on each others arms with the certainty that the yellow stain would serve as a perfect cootie repellant. And I have no idea how many wishes I’ve made throughout my life while blowing the seeds away.
Even without all the memories, dandelions still make me smile. I think they are the best weed around. I love it when I walk and see the grassy areas spotted with yellow. (Some would cynically say blighted, but I kind of think of them as fields of wildflowers.) They add color and brightness to my day.
I know I’m going to get the “you’ll think differently when you have your own yard” response. WRONG! First of all, if I ever have a yard I’m xeriscaping, and I think dandelions will only add to my interesting and water-efficient plant life. And two, whoever decided that grass reigned supreme in environmentally planned environments anyways? Why is there a constant fight against dandelions?
I saw someone who let dandelions take the spotlight in their lawn and it made my day…made my day enough to take a picture of their front yard. Note: As per the below comments, I can’t figure out how to upload the pictures though. (please don’t tell me how sad it is that “pictures” is plural when referring to weeds…or that I can’t figure out how to use my own website…I know these things already…) For now, you’ll just have to imagine its awesomeness on your own. Sorry!