Big Spender

Spent too much money this weekend but had a blast. Actually, husband spent too much money because he took care of the tab. AND gave me gambling money. That's a good man right there.

Technically it's "our" money but we have separate accounts for our spending money and it all came out of his pile. So he gets the points.

There isn't a place that brings people of all social classes together like a casino. I saw people that didn't appear to have much money, who were probably feeding the machines the money they needed to pay bills. They were there to hit it big and strike it rich. Some of them looked down right desperate.

There were people like us, who brought a designated amount of money and agreed that once it was gone it was gone. We were willing to spend that money for entertainment, whether we won or lost. It was a night of fun, but nothing too outrageous.

Then there were my husband's business associates. Wives with diamonds as wide as their fingers. A bar tab over $500. These are people with money out the wazoo. They were willing to throw away more money than I could even imagine spending at a casino. And I'm pretty sure they won some too. Let's face it - it's easier to win when you play with big money. It's tough to get rich off the penny slot machine.

It's just funny though, because at a casino, social classes and money don't really make that much difference. We're all sitting next to each other doing the exact same thing. Of course, the reasons we're doing it vary greatly but it's still interesting to me.

And it's unfortunate but money can't buy you social graces or intelligence. I'm not trying to be mean, but…and you know, anytime someone says "I'm not trying to X," that is exactly what they are doing…so yeah, I'm gonna be mean. One of the business associate wives was a little dumb. The restaurant we were going to eat at, some swanky steakhouse, was all booked up so we ended up at Toby Keith's. She asked what calf fries were. She's not originally from Oklahoma and I can understand that she didn't know. When we explained it she genuinely asked how they could sell them because how were there enough cows, since they each only have two balls, right? And I can see how she might have imagined they were served - two huge fried testicals…so I was giving her the benefit of the doubt. Then she leaned over to me and asked what sweet tea was. I'm not sure how she felt when I said "It's tea that's sweet. It has sugar in it." Which I know sweet tea is kinda a southern thing but you're in your forties and you've never been around anyone that's drank it before? Especailly since her husband was the one that ordered it. Then she was telling us she was surprised when she found out some of the girls her daughter goes to college had actually grown up there. She said "I was like really? What do people do here?" The exact same things they do everywhere. It's a smaller community but it's a college town, not a rural area. It was really like she didn't understand that anyone could live there except to go to college. I was trying my hardest not to look at the husband and to keep my face perfectly blank.

Too bad that poker face didn't help me win any money…

Roadtrip! I look rough when I travel...

Roadtrip snack - husband's, not mine.

He was having fun, promise! A little too much fun!

R&R

Headed out of town tomorrow for a much needed weekend away. The last few weeks have been busy, hectic and stressful so I'm making it a point to enjoy myself. 

Spending the weekend at the Hardrock casino with some friends.  We aren't really into gambling - if you know how financially conservative my husband is you might be shocked that he gambles at all.  I think I enjoy it more than him and that make sense;  I'm an adrenaline junkie. I mean, I've been bungee jumping twice and sky diving - it's safe to say I like the rush. But I don't go very often at all - I've actually only been twice outside of Vegas. 

I don't think there's real entertainment value for the hubby but all his buddies are into. Big time. So when they have guy time they are usually at the casino. Or in the middle of the woods trying to start fires and build things. That's about the extent of guy time.

So if I'm lucky I might end the weekend with a little extra cash in my pocket. Even if I don't, I'm calling it a win anyway...

*And I'm thinking of a friend and hoping for a quick and easy recovery. Take it slow and don't push yourself too hard!

The Truth Hurts

The last few weeks I have just totally let everything go. I've been shoveling food into my mouth like I was a garbage disposal. And Dr. Pepper...I went there. More than once. Not even the diet stuff.

And I'm fully aware that it's all related to the fact that I'm just a little...depressed.

I'm just having a hard time dealing with the sudden and sobering realization that I'm not good at my job.  I've kinda suspected it and wondered but I think I was able to offer explanations or excuses. I kinda thought a lot of what I encountered was growing pains and would dissipate once our program got rolling. But that is clearly not the case.

I would vent to my husband and relate events and he would offer up all his "solutions" - the you shoulda, I woulda, you need to - and I would always think to myself that he didn't really understand, it didn't apply, that it didn't work that way in a program like mine. 

But I have a philosophy that I seem to apply to everyone, except myself, and that's if problems keep occurring, sometimes you gotta look at the common denominator and realize the real problem may be with yourself.

So the other night we got into a particularly nasty fight. Oh, don't judge.  Every couple fights, whether it's admitted or not. And if they don't, well...they haven't been together long enough. 

Soooo, there was a fight and it was completely unrelated and irrelevant but he was losing so in a desperate attempt to gain some momentum he threw one below the belt and essentially told me that I couldn't run my program because I was a piss poor manager.

Now, before you start to think that he's a giant ass, let me just point out that we've all spewed some not so nice and hurtful things during a fight. That's kinda what makes it a fight and not a discussion. Most of us, however,  aren't unfortunate enough to have those things repeated and blasted in a blog.

But here's the thing. Usually, I'm the mean one in a fight. I don't know if it's the fact that I'm the middle child and spent most my life learning to be diplomatic (which makes me ferocious in a fight because I can always see the other argument and break it down and destroy it) or the fact that I'm pretty good at empathising with people (which allows me to understand what others are feeling and identify weaknesses) or if it's the fact that I'm just down-right mean...but when I fight, really fight, I go for the jugular.  No holding back, I'm in it for the kill.

I'm not proud of that. At all. It's horrible. But it is true.  So when the husband hurls the occasional insult my way they seem so far-fetched and remote that I know he doesn't believe what he's saying, it's all in the heat of the moment. And it has little impact.

But this, this has got in my head. And I realize that the reason why is that deep-down, I know it's true.

It's like all the qualities that made me good in my previous job are what prevent me from being good at this one.  Yes, I've stepped up and taken care of difficult things but that's always outside my comfort zone and is so unnatural for me. I make too many allowances, am too easy, and simply care about relationships a little too  much. 

And the thing about it is, I know how I should be, I know how I have to be in order to be effective. But it's like I can't really squeeze out how I am as a person.  I can't change who I am at my very core.  It's like this battle that I'm never going to win.

I will never be the person I need to be in order to run this program the way it needs to be run.

And that's disturbing, disappointing, and depressing.  And I'm not sure what to do.

So I've been stuffing my face. Because that seems like a perfectly good and reasonable way to resolve any issue, don't you think?

Get Me Out Of Here

I don't think I can take one more day of stupid, immature behavior. Seriously, I am on the edge of just losing it with someone. I just DON'T UNDERSTAND what's SO hard about acting like an adult and doing what you say you're going to do?  REALLY PEOPLE?  Is it THAT hard?

I just want to get away.  Cue Tainted Love lyrics (off key, of course) "sometimes I feel I've got to run away, I've got to get away" NO, I will not let that little tune break me out of my mood. Even if it is catchy.

It seriously makes me want to go live in a cage. That way I don't ever have to encounter another stupid person in my  life.  No dealing with messes, no trying to fix problems, no scrambling to cover for someone that dropped the ball, no politics. Just me, some bananas and my cave.

And I wouldn't ever have to shave my legs again.

Sounds like heaven...

My Week In Pictures

I had a super busy but fun week. Of course, that meant that I neglected my blog but it's not like I ever talk about anything really interesting so somehow I imagine everyone has survived my absence.

TUESDAY:

My sisters and I signed up to run a holiday series of 5K virtual runs. The idea is to keep motivated and active during the holidays - this is especially good for me because I'm the worst at getting in exercise and eating poorly. I do that most the time, not just around holidays.
My husband kept calling it my "fake run" because it's a virtual race. There isn't a run location, you pick your own and you have 3 days to run and enter your time on-line. Yes, people can cheat. I'm sure some probably do. But I didn't and there wasn't anything fake about my running. Trust me; my body was fully aware that there was no faking.

Before the run...

After the run...now I'm red.



This is what happens when you run too fast. Or when your BIL is a cop.


WEDNESDAY:
Halloween – my second favorite holiday. I don’t usually dress up at work but our student organization put on a Halloween party and I couldn’t not participate. Plus, every good Halloween party needs a witch and I am the perfect person to fill the role.

THURSDAY:
Dance night. Love watching my little ballerinas. Even if it does get hectic trying to fit dinner and homework in before bedtime.

FRIDAY:
School field trip for M. It was so much fun getting to spend the day with her. We spent some time on a farm. Not a real functioning farm - although they did have a few live animals - but a commercialized one for kids. It was neat though and I even had a chance to experience what milking a cow would be like...not a real cow but it's as close as I'll probably ever get.

Milking the "cow". Fun times!



M snapped this picture while we were on a train ride.
She loves taking pictures almost as much as I do.

SATURDAY:

Then it was off to work on a new rental. You probably couldn’t tell it but this one is actually not too bad. There isn’t a whole lot of work that needs to be done and I think, just maybe, we may be able to get it finished and rented by December. That’s the hope, anyway. And yes, the houses we usually get need much more work than this. Seriously.

This is where the toilet used to be. Oh, there was a floor there too.

The rest of the weekend was spent hanging out with some good friends for a little football and then celebrating my grandmother's birthday. Perfect way to end the week and start a new one!

Miracle Ring

My wedding ring is my nicest, most expensive piece of jewelry. My husband is very frugal so it was especially meaningful that he would make that kind of investment on something as “frivolous” as jewelry. We never, ever looked at rings and he selected it on his own. When he whipped out that little box I wasn’t sure what to expect…

It was the first diamond ring I ever owned and I was determined to take good care of it…so I read the little manual and followed the instructions. Part of those instructions were to remove the ring before washing your hands – soap dulls the diamond. So I did, fanatically. Every time I washed my hands I would stick the ring in my mouth and slip it back on. Let’s not talk about how unsanitary that was…I would rather not think about it. I was taking care of my ring and that’s all I cared about.

We had been married probably about a month when I looked down one afternoon and noticed my ring was gone. Gone. Immediately, I was filled with panic. What had happened? Then a rush of anxiety – I had gone to the bathroom that morning. Five hours ago. Could I have put it down? I ran to the bathroom. It wasn’t anywhere in site. I searched my whole office and checked everywhere on campus. It wasn’t anywhere. It was gone. Just gone.

I made a report with campus police. The officer was nice but gently told me that if it hadn’t been turned it by now, I would most likely never see my ring again.

I was devastated.

I left work to tell my husband. I had to look him in the eyes when I broke the news and I was too distraught to wait until that evening. On my way to my car I called my Mom and both sisters, asked them to form a prayer chain asking that whoever had my ring it would be laid on their heart to do the right thing and turn it in. At that point, prayer was all I had.

I made it to my husband’s office and I burst through the door sobbing. He was on the phone with a client but that didn’t stop me from nearly collapsing into his arms. All I could think about is how he had told me to take care of it and had actually said that if anything ever happened, I would be out of luck and wouldn’t get another one. I had been incredulous at the suggestion – I wasn’t a child, I wasn’t going to lose it. And then, to have to tell him otherwise, to have to admit my irresponsibility and see his disappointment…it was almost too much to bear. And definitely worse than actually losing the ring.

But I had made such a dramatic entrance that when I finally spit it out he was actually relieved. He told me that it was just a ring, it didn’t mean anything and didn’t matter that I had lost it. There was no disappointment or admonishment – just love and comfort. Which only made me feel worse.

I went through the phone book calling pawnshops – no one had the ring. And then, right when I should have been giving up I had the most comforting sense of reassurance that I would get my ring back. It was the strangest thing – I just knew. Logically, it made no sense. My husband was pretty unconvinced but I had peace in my heart and was confident.

When my supervisor asked the next day I told her that I hadn’t found the ring but that I was sure I was going to get it back. She looked at me very sympathetically. I’m sure she thought I was in denial. And I probably would have too – it sounds crazy unless it’s happening to you, how can you explain it? Telling someone you just have a “feeling” doesn’t do it justice – it really wasn’t a feeling. I just had absolute comfort and knowledge. Almost like someone had said to me, with supreme authority, “You will get your ring back.” Only I didn’t hear a voice. Really, I didn’t! I’m not crazy. I promise.

Around noon I was on the phone when my supervisor burst through my door, she could hardly contain her excitement as she said “We found your ring!”

We had a work study student that had been a previous student of my supervisors. In recovery, she hadn’t been working in our office long and her unreliable and sporadic behavior had actually made me wonder if she was using again. I had seen her in the office very briefly the morning before but she was gone by the time I had discovered my ring was missing.

She had called my supervisor, told her she found a ring on the bathroom counter the morning before, had put it in her pocket and “forgot” about it until right then. Where should she turn it in?

When my supervisor asked, the ring she described was mine. The student had no idea the ring belonged to me.

There is no doubt in my mind that the discovery was not forgotten. It seems logical that the very first thing you would do is come back from the restroom and start asking about lost and found. If you plan to turn it in. If not, you quietly slip it in your pocket, don’t say anything, and go about your day. And that is exactly what I think the original intentions were.

But God heard my prayers and the prayers of those that were said on my behalf. He laid it on her heart to do the right thing. And His command was too strong to ignore.

I picked up the ring and gave her some reward money and as I was leaving she said almost wistfully, “I was thinking, man, someone could really make some money off that at a pawn shop.”

Most of us live our lives without ever seeing a miracle. Or what we think a miracle should look like. Because to be a miracle, it has to be grand and ostentatious, right? Isn’t that what miracles are about?

And when we do encounter something that might qualify as a miracle, we find a reason or an explanation for what has happened so it’s dismissed and we fail to recognize it as anything divine.

But miracles occur every day – in the simplest of forms. I believe that’s the way God speaks to us – we have to listen, really listen, in order to hear Him. It isn’t neon lights and flashy signs…it’s much too delicate to advertise in that way.

So that was my first miracle. It may seem trite to liken the recovery of a wedding ring to a miracle but getting the ring back wasn’t the miracle. It was the opportunity to actually feel God at work. I’m sure the situation can be rationalized and explained away. And that there are those that feel like I’m just some fanatic trying to make more of this than there was…but I know what it was, and I’m not discounting it.

That Stinks

So I run into the house to grab M's dance bag and immediately when I open the door I notice an odor. Something is definitely not right. Is that? No, it can't be...surely not...but then again, it smells just like it...

Poop.

It smelled like poop. 

I walk to the bathroom, really, really slowly. Because I'm not sue what I'll find and I'm imagining some pretty gross stuff spewed everywhere. That happened to some neighbors of mine from a long time ago, a lovely family that I used to babysit for. One day their downstairs bathroom exploded. Exploded. Like a volcano, except with poop. It was everywhere and leaked into their entire downstairs. It was horrible. Made worse by the fact it was something to do with the city system and it was actually city sewage, stuff from everyone's toilet.  I don't know why, that just makes it worse. I mean, poop is gross but not as gross when it's yours.  Like when you're going and you know it stinks but it doesn't really stink.  But then if you walk into a bathroom right after someone's done it you start gagging and your eyes water up and you try really hard not to breathe because you don't want any of that entering your body...it's not that it's worse, it's just we're kinda immune to our own grossness.

So I'm really just bracing myself for a fountain of poo.  I look down the hall and nothing, the bathroom looks normal. But that smell was definitely coming from something so I creep into the bathroom and lift the lid. I was really thinking maybe someone just left a little gift in the toilet from this morning. Nope, all clear.

And the odor was the worse in the kitchen/dining room area. So I kinda quickly look around. I don't see anything but I know our house shouldn't smell like this...I thought maybe a small animal got inside a left a surprise.  Something, something must have happened for our house to smell like a toilet bowl.  And whatever it is, I'm pretty sure it's not good.

So I grab the bag, head outside for the kid exchange and tell the hubby that house smells like crap. Literally. When I call to check he tells me the toilet is backed up but of course, he can't find anyone to come out tonight.  And of course, he's got an employee disciplinary hearing tomorrow and I'm conducting some training so neither one of us are available tomorrow.  Really, the Friday I absolutely can't miss is when this happens? Good grief!

And M2's birthday party is Saturday. So this should be interesting...