New Fangled Google, What?

Okay, I am not going to lie. It took me way too long to figure out how to post using this new intuitive blogger template. Like, two weeks. It is intuitive like the iPad is intuitive, I guess. But this is coming from someone who at first thought you changed the iPad screen by shaking it like an etch-a-sketch. I would log in and then I would remember why I hadn't posted in awhile. I couldn't figure out how to. Yet the legal matters of entire company rest at my feet. One of our key employees at the store has flipped out. Like, attempted to check herself into the hospital out of exhaustion flipped out. We are wondering how this employee is exhausted as she is not putting in enough time at the store to be exhausted, yet here we are. Accordingly, despite having both a medical doctor and my therapist tell me I had to take a day off this past weekend for my health, our key employee called in because she needed to rest. In related news, our key production person forever endeared himself to me when I overheard him telling another employee to save putting out the flavor labels for my son, because he really liked to do that. We had just had a discussion about how my son is getting bullied at school. That's a whole post unto itself. If I could completely figure out this new fangled blogger template I would have put "that's" in italics. Anyway, it melted my heart that this guy was looking out for my son. It's interesting the people in the end that you end up counting on, and the ones you thought you could count on that leave you stranded. I'm a terrible judge of character. And also a terrible judge of shoes. Just because it's a Tory Burch wedge does not mean it is comfortable. In fact, what it means is that there are shoes out there, in addition to the toe shoes that I wore when I danced wtih the New Orleans Ballet, that can actually make feet bleed.

What Could Go Wrong?

By now the store has its own routine and the opening month's kinks have been worked out. My husband went out of town this weekend, and I was looking forward to a nice restorative weekend of some checking in at the store and getting some good rest to finally kick this mother of all colds. Instead I dealt with a 36 hour emergency plumbing problem (that is, to the extent that crud from the grease trap is not suppose to be seeping through the floor tiles in your production kitchen) and then, I crap you negative not an hour after the plumber left and declared us good to go, a credit card machine that stopped working. I AM TIRED IN MY BONES. Wait. Don't you have a manager? Yes. Yes we do. But she got in a fist fight Friday night and was not feeling all that well. Do you remember that book that was kind of popular in the early 90s that was by the checkout counter at all the Waldenbooks and Borders? It was called "Life's Little Instruction Book." I remember one and only one rule. Resist the urge to open a restaurant.

Sick Day

Y'all. I rarely call a sick day, yet here we are. Not feeling too creative, I decided to post this picture. From Christmas. For two reasons.

First, I guess I kind of misled you about the rest of my house not being girly.

Second, look what is on t.v. If I ever forget when I took this picture, I can just look at the t.v. and know.

When Did The Girly Happen

For a relatively ungirly house, I have a very girly mantle.

The Great Puppy Standoff That Appears to be Lasting Forever

I finally decided to take my doctor's recommendation to begin Tamoxifen to cut my breast cancer risk in half. I've been thinking about it for a year now because you are not suppose to get pregnant while on Tamoxifen. Not that getting pregnant was a real consideration - but sometimes I have this tiny little twinge that I would love to experience having a child that is born not in the same week that my mother died and the same year that the baby's daddy and I decided we should get divorced.

Given that I will be taking away the possibility that I will ever again have child, the LEAST my husband could do is let me have a puppy.

Yet here we are. Puppyless. Because my husband hates puppies.

I am not, by nature, a brow-beater or a nag. Yet here I have nagged and begged and won't let it go. And he won't budge.

Jazzman

I would consider reading Carol King's autobiography if it weren't for Jazzman. Jazzman makes me carsick. Even when I am not in a car. In fact, I am feeling carsick right now.

Speaking of sick, I was craving wings last night so we went to the Buffalo Wild Wings. Located in the Walmart parking lot. Let's just call it an experience. That will repeat itself. Those Asian Zing wings are awesome.

When Kids Tweet

It's not a good thing.

First of all, there is no expectation of privacy if you are twitting all over the planet using your real name. So. I feel like I can call her on this without the drama that ensued when I found her myspace page. Although, still, there - NO EXPECTATION OF PRIVACY.

She was all mad and accused me of snooping when we discussed the myspace page. Excuse me. You take a desk job and sit there for eight plus hours without getting a little bit distracted at around 3:45 each afternoon and then begin googling people you know. Or pictures of puppies. I'm just saying. If I didn't have a job, I am sure I would not be so in the know about the social media forums of our children.

If I call her on this (because it's some fake drama about her family - mostly her mom's side - but still disrespectful and wrong), the twit site would go down and we would lose some of the clues we have about what is going on in her life. And, as noted, it's really only mean things about her mom. But if I know that some of the drama is fake, is it all fake?

Thank God the youngest child in the house is a boy. So much less drama.

My Magic Bag

I had doctor's orders, people, DOCTOR'S ORDERS, to find a smaller bag. As you know, I was in search of a grown up bag. Left to my own devices, if comes in the color of candy, has a bow or sequins, and it is big enough to hold a small dog, I will choose that bag.

However.




As things are going well at the place of employ, I felt like assuming a bit more of a professional handbag. See to the left. Amazing, huh? It is the perfect color to wear with gold or silver. And it holds all these things in nice little separate compartments:

My driving glasses, in their case
My sunglasses, in their case
My iPad
My work phone
My personal phone
My makeup bag
My big overstuffed wallet
My Sirius radio
My set of keys fit for a janitor

And it all tucks under my arm. Praise be the Coach Jayden.

Happy Hour(s)

Yesterday, after their shifts, our manager and our production person went out and got wasted, and then came back to the store.

I've done a few happy hours in my time.

However.

I've never required a boss to drive me home.

Also, our sales were scary slow the two days it was cold and snowy.

Getting Away With Something

I'm on a business trip for the next two days. I am not at the store and I am not in the office. I do have to go to our local office here, but just to observe.

Don't tell anyone but I totally feel like I am on vacation.

HA. Hahahahaha.