Friday is my Monday

I work four days per week.  Fridays are my Mondays which makes Mondays my Fridays.  It hasn’t always been this way for me, I worked a typical week for most of my adult life.  Now I am a weekend warrior.

I truly like my job, which makes Fridays absolutely bearable for me.  It is also easily bearable because everybody else is in Friday mode, so the people I interact with are in a good mood.  Today nothing went right.  I was having a unpleasant first day of the work week experience.  For the first time in ages I felt as though I was having a Monday moment.  Let me tell you about it.

To begin, I slept only about six hours last night.   I realize this is not going to result in major exhaustion or deliriousness.  But I get my eight hours of sleep a night.  Some people have to eat only healthy things, others must get to the gym.  I sleep eight hours, it’s what I do to keep my sanity and health.  So, I am a little tired, but I will definitely make it through the day.  When I got out of bed I noticed that the windows were all down in my car, and I knew it had down poured last night because I heard it on the roof.  Whee!  Soaked vehicle!  Still not the end of the world, I’ll lay down a towel.

I get myself ready for work, drive to work, everything is great.  But everything isn’t great when I remember that I took a different car to work than I usually do and the key to enter my place of business is on the key chain of the car I normally take.  This car is at my house, 40 minutes away.  I’m early for work, because I am always early.  I checked to see if any windows might be unlocked or if any doors are easily wiggles open or if any spare keys are left in obvious spare key places.  The answer is no to all of that.  So I phone my extremely forgiving boss and explain my situation.  There are two humans in the vicinity with keys.  YAY!  I call both and am directed to their voicemail boxes immediately.  Boo!  I once again call the kindest boss ever and am directed towards a solution.  Phew!

After all the shenanigans, I got into work ten minutes late.  I am ashamed of this fact, but I’m there none the less.  Let’s celebrate this achievement and also take a minute to discuss the clothes I wore today.

I had just bought new pants.  These new pants are so lovely.  So lovely in fact that they will only coordinate with one pair of shoes that I own.  As I was putting on my shoes this morning I realized that the strap to them was not staying fastened.  I really didn’t care too much if I wore these new pants but I was going to be late if I went and tried to find an entirely new outfit.  I am not late, ever.   Sleeping well and promptness are my superpowers.  I was going to have to find a way to wear these shoes.  So I dug around in a drawer and found some super glue.  There was no reason for me to remove my shoe at work, so why not just glue it shut for the day and take them to the cobbler tomorrow, I thought.  Clothes on, shoes glued, all is great.

So now back to me at work.  I unlocked the building and raced to get everything ready for the day.   I have to run a sandwich board out to the road when we open.  I was hustling out to the road with said sign and remembered that they had recently done some excavating to the parking lot creating a bee-line to the space where the sandwich board must reside.  With glee I raced across the area that was not accessible prior to the excavating.  Because of all the rain (the same rain that had soaked my car seats last night) and because the ground was still soft from the pushing around of dirt and gravel my foot sunk, deep into the muck.  Not the foot that had a working strap, oh no.  The foot that had a shoe superglued together that could not be removed without the shoe becoming worthless, lowered itself quickly into what felt like quicksand.

shoe

Inside that shoe is a lot of mud.  And gravel.  And that shoe is super glued onto me for the rest of the day.  I wiped off all I could of what debris was surrounding my foot.  And until clock out time came, I tried to ignore the discomfort that resulted from my eager sprint in the parking lot.

So, today, was my Monday on a Friday and it felt like a Monday.

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I Drank Some Soda.

Last weekend I dug through my freezer and was reminded that I still had the bottom of a bottle of spiced rum.  Enough for a drink, perhaps two.  What I lacked was anything to drink with the rum.  I googled a solution to my problem and in roughly twelve minutes I was at my nearest convenient store in search of my mixer du jour, ginger ale.  What I found alongside, was far greater.  

First a little history with my relationship with ginger.  I like it.  But when I was pregnant and suffering from all day “morning” sickness it was suggested that I try ginger candy to alleviate my nausea.  To this day I associate the taste of sweet natural ginger with losing an otherwise lovely dinner in a roadside bathroom in the state of New Mexico, another post altogether.  So if I decide to partake of ginger ale, it is always the less authentic version one can find under the name brand Canadian Dry.  Real ginger ale, ginger candy, etc. is not my favorite.

So there I was at the C-Store staring at the only ginger ale option they provided:  Reed’s All Natural Jamaican Ginger Ale.  I hesitated.  Maybe my taste buds have forgotten, I thought.  Better look for another option to go with rum, I thought as I peered through the glass doors for something else with which Sailor Jerry would play nicely.  I came upon two drinks I had not seen in over a decade.  They make Surge again!  Is that Crystal Pepsi?!  Without even contemplating my no caffeine after noon rule I grabbed both drinks and instantly my thoughts went one place.  Blog.  

I do this all the time, sometimes many times per day.  I have written dozens of unpublished blogs since I last posted here but none of them seemed right.  But soda, this was good.  I then grabbed the ginger ale and because I was feeling thirsty at that moment I rounded out my order with a can of Sanpellegrino.  I paid for my drinks and drove home.

soda

First Crystal Pepsi.  AKA the soda that came out in my early teens.  I confuse Crystal Pepsi and Pepsi Blue (another short lived 90’s cola), because I don’t usually drink Pepsi.  Of course I tried both of these sodas when they debuted in the decade of grunge, but I really didn’t remember them.  But…after tasting Crystal Pepsi I remembered it in the same way Robin Williams remembered he was Peter Pan in Hook.   It took some effort, but I did recall the taste.  I wasn’t as thrilled about my reunion with this soda as he was with tinkerbell, but you get my point.  It took a few sips.  Crystal Pepsi tastes to me, like Pepsi, but different and yet totally them same.  Another fun fact about Crystal Pepsi:  It has a great commercial from the Super Bowl including a song by Van Halen.

Moving along…

Sanpellegrino is great.  It’s orange juice soda.  I wanted some while I was driving home so I bought some.  You didn’t come here to read a review on this beverage.

Surge.  *sigh*

I have a love/hate relationship with Surge.  I would have likely been a huge fan, but I was still nursing my wounds from the discontinuation of OK Soda when Surge broke out into the market.  I didn’t want Surge,  I didn’t ask for it.  I didn’t contact Coca-Cola headquarters specifically asking for the re-release of Surge.  I did this with OK Soda.   So while I would have loved Surge if I still had my Gen-X soda of choice, I scoffed at its release as a pseudo  alternative beverage that could never bee as wonderful as my beloved.  However, I took a few sips this evening.  It’s not bad.  I imagine they mixed Mello Yello, Minute Maid Orange and Sprite in order to create this drink.  Sorry I gave you no play in ’97 Surge.  I am still holding out for an OK Soda re-release.  1-800-I-FEEL-OK.

 

Finally, Ginger Ale.  Reed’s Ginger Ale is tasty.  After adding a shot of rum I did in fact forget about my New Mexico episode and I might even try it again at some point.  However it is coming on the warmer season and spiced rum doesn’t seem like the spirit of choice in the heat.

So, cheers to overcoming my fear of ginger.  Cheers to remembering sodas from the 1990’s.  And cheers to The Pilver which is nearly ten years young.

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Blogiversary #9


This morning I received a lovely notification as I do every morning that I had memories of mine that facebook would like for me to see.  I always look at them if I have a moment, and today I was slapped in the face with all the memories of me copying and pasting url links from my long lost blog in celebration of it’s birthday.  “That’s right!  I have a blog.”  I thought as I remembered there have been dozens of times I’ve been meaning to get back to it and write some more nonsense.  

So, I bought the cake.  I picked out a glittery number candle.  I sloppily wrote words with a bag of frosting.  Technically, I’m blogging.  

Maybe tomorrow will be the day I begin to earmark time on a regular basis to type on a regular basis. Maybe I’ll blog every day in August to proclaim my detest of the entire month.  Maybe not.  But consider this post at the very least a reminder that next year will be my tenth blogiversary!  I truly hope to see you here before then.  Cheers!

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Wanna hear me whine?

Good!  You came to the right place!

I am utterly depressed about not keeping up with my vow to blog every day this month.  I really am, I’d much rather be blogging than doing what I’m doing.

I’m ill.  In the sore-throat-high-fever-I hope-I’m-not-sporting-a-case-of-strep variety.  My carpal tunnel in my wrists is flaring so badly driving is a painful chore, let alone the numb burning that I get from typing a few paragraphs.  While condo life is definitely more simple because I have a dishwasher and a working washer/dryer, acting as a single parent is not.  I’d kill for a night with a couple hours to do nothing. A couple minutes would do.

I’m tired, sick, frazzled, and I’m missing hundreds of clumps of hair.  My biggest worry right now is that when my baby girl turns four this Sunday I won’t be able to pull off the sort of cake she’s requested as neither cake making nor art are talents I possess.

There’s more.  I’m just not willing to share.  I’m in one of those moments that won’t kill me but will hopefully make me stronger.

Thanks for listening to me whine.  I’m hoping to make up the loss of posting days.  And I’m also hoping to put up a Christmas tree up soon.  It’s time.

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I’m buying a swim cap tomorrow

Henry is just about a year and a haf old.  He’s an easy kid, for the most part.  He’s a wild toddler and these are the toughest months, but he is a smiley joyful kid and all the mischeif he gets into is easily worth his snuggles and smiles.  

But Henry pulls hair.  Not once in awhile, all of the whiles.  I used to have thick long hair.  It’s still long, in some parts.  But (and this is mostly because I sleep next to him) it is thin and broken and as vain as this is I hate my hair right now because for about the past six months Henry has pulled it out in clumps.  

It’s not a naughtly thing.  He doesn’t pull hair like when a kid bites or hits.  He pulls it for comfort, like a baby sucks it’s thumb.  But the comfort I am prividing him while he sleeps leaves hundreds of hairs on my pillow each night.  

I talked to his doctor, I went and got a real hair cut at a salon to see if I could cover the loss, which I never do as I always just trim it up myself. I tried laying long haired dolls next to him, he prefers natural hair over plastic.  I even started wrapping scarfs tightly around my head at bed time.  He can wriggle his tiny hand into the scarf and commence the pull fest.  

I can ony thing of two more things to try, kick him out of my bed and wear a swim cap to bed.  Tomorrow we try the swim cap.  I really hope this works, I truy don’t want to kick him out of bed?. But little guy-that’s where you’re going if we can’t work this out. My scalp is raw, and my hair is atrocious.  

  
Anyone have this issure ever?  How did you deal with it?  

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Kids Today…Don’t Have Guns n Roses

I missed yesterday, and while I was in the middle of today’s entry I relized it was going to take too long to post today.  So I have to get something in so I don’t end up needing to make up two days.

Think quick Kristiane…gotta make a post…it’s November…LIGHTBULB!  November Rain!

Oh Guns n Roses, you never fail to deliver. Well in the 90s you didn’t, now you are off the radar.

There has always been great and terrible music.  Any level headed person can see this.  But, as I was re-watching the video for November Rain this evening, I decided that while your generation, if it is indeed different than my own, may have or have had great music…it will never be as great as the generation of those who came of age listening to Guns N Roses.  Not solely because of Axel and his kin, though they are a good part of it.  However (and as I said, there’s great music from all eras) the top 40 music from 1985-1995 is far superior to, in my ever so humble opinion, all other Top  40 decades.  Ever.  It’s more diversive, it’s more artistic, we had freaking amazing MTV videos to go along with the songs etc.  And we had Guns n Roses.

I may or may not have just spent the better of two hours watching old songs on YouTube.  If I had, it would have reminded me that on any given afternoon when school let out I could watch MTV and see a video by Guns n Roses sandwiched between Dr. Dre and Deee-Lite.

I’ll be back tomorrow with something longer and less divisive.  But let’s do one more, it’ll be fun:

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I Asked a Clerk For D-Bags

I am dealing with a new vaccuum cleaner at my condo.  I actually hate this vaccum cleaner, as it requires me to purchase bags.  It also is as loud as a jet airplane.  Ear plugs are suggested when I flip on the power. I realized there are no back-up bags for the thing when I was cleaning today and added them to my shopping list.  The side of the vaccum says, “BAG TYPE: D”. 

  
I added them to the list.  At the store I found everthing I needed.  Except vaccuum bags.  Sporting one of those I-can’t-find-what-I-need faces a box boy asked if I was finding everything alright?  

“Do you have any D-Bags?,” I replied

“For vaccuum cleaners.” I added, a moment too late.

My face was red.  He was clearly stifling a giant, HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!  I’m guessing I was the first customer to ever ask his assistance in locating, D-Bags.  

All that hoopla and they don’t carry ANY vaccuum bags.  I rehearsed the phrase, “vaccuum cleaner bags, size D” in my head a hundred times on my way home.   I will write that down verbatum as well on my next shopping list.  

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