A Little Jab at the Red Sox

I have a coworker who is obsessed with the Boston Red Sox. I don't know if it's just my nature, but when I come across people who are completely steadfast and unyielding in their opinions, I attempt to find kinks in their resolve. Perhaps this is due to the fact there is very little in my life that I'm not constantly reassessing or evaluating. I feel just about anything is up for negotiation and discussion, but that's just me.

So. Manny Ramirez- I'm not going to discredit this man or his gift of being able to slug a ball. This picture is accurate. He looks like he smoked a big fattie, put on a uniform 2 sizes too big, and sauntered out to the field. His is the most nonchalant and unassuming athlete I've ever seen. Again, the man is blessed when it comes to baseball, but seriously... do you look at him and say, "Now there's a great ball player?"

Kevin Youkilis- When he's up at the plate, he looks like a maniacle lumberjack. He is so intense on the ball, it's almost like he's possessed. He would scare me in a dark alley. Seriously, anyone who looks like he does at the plate and has their name phonetically pronounced as "you-kill-us" is dangerous in my book.

I'm not even a baseball fan, but was prompted to write this b/c my coworker couldn't even concede to my opinion when I presented him with these photos. His excuse for Youkilis-- He's a Scotsman, what do you expect?

Um yeah.

A Snapshot Of My Life In Late 2005

I save the emails I've sent. Oftentimes when I sound off on an email it is an honest reflection of where I was mentally and emotionally in that instant. I save them to serve as a reminder of the ebbs and flows of my life.

I am copying an email I sent to two of my best friends from college. This email is probably one of the funniest things I've ever written and it refers largely to the beginning of my father's illness and our ability to handle it all.

It was titled: And the Punches Keep on Coming....

Hi girls.
Happy holidays.

Ang, first of all, you are a dear. I just received your gifts, I love them. I had full intentions of buying you and Ms. Kapela your own handheld electronic free cell game, however, apparently everyone at target wants one of these things, so x-mas may be in January....
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George was able to get a leave from the hospital and spent x-mas w/ us. He is OK and improving slowly, however he has a GINORMOUS bedsore that required operating. It is currently 7 cm long, 8 cm wide and 6 1/2 cm deep. Think grapefruit... in the ass. He has a wound vacuum that is continually draining it, and this has hindered his recovery. However, he was released today and is now at home w/ a home health care person, a PT and an OT who also come to visit. Margaret's head is spinning.
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It turns out my cat, Yiddy, is a big skank. She contracted chlamydia. How the fuck did she get that, and can I get it, and since I don't have it, how the hell did SHE get it? These were questions I asked the vet. Rest assured I'm not a risk for catching an STD from my cat...
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Well, you all know how I love to fall, so x-mas eve wouldn't be right w/ out me stumbling over my brother's dog, his kid and him while trying to walk down the hallway. Oh and that series of pops and cracks going down the right knee, that's normal, right? And the onslaught of tears, b/c I NEVER cry, but try telling that to my now irrational mind that only feels pain! So, b/c my mother has enough stress I refused to go to the ER, and I convinced myself it was nothing. I'm pretty persuasive and was doing just a fine job "convincing" myself that my knee really wasn't THAT swollen, and I could sorta walk. I mean, I got the flu on x-mas day and stayed in bed until 12/27 so, an achy knee was not that big of a deal. Yeah, well yesterday in the ER after it had popped out of place from "walking" it suddenly became apparent to me that it might be an issue. I hear rumblings of tearing my ACL since I described the pain as "burning." BUT since my knee has swollen to the size of my ass, they can't x-ray it properly until the swelling goes down. So yours truly is now under the care of an orthopedic surgeon and a knee brace w/ some crutches and some really great pain pills. The crutches are in my trunk where they will stay as I refuse to acknowledge this development. I'm in such denial over this injury I actually decided to flip and rotate my queen mattress by myself prior to going to the ER. I drove to the ER myself and drove my ass home, leg practically hanging out the window b/c the brace they gave me forces my leg to be STRAIGHT. I don't have time for this and really don't care to deal with it at this point. Hello, I live alone, I have to work and drive somehow. DUH. Unfortunately, it appears that the only thing I can do w/o is the crutches. I go back to the Dr next Friday to discuss my "options." blah.

I once had new years plans, but now I don't. Instead my mother, who we all know has nothing else to do, is coming down to pick me up b/c she doesn't trust me to stay by myself and off my leg for 3 days. So instead of going out and living it up with my friends, I'll be home w/ my dad...sitting next to his wound vac watching it drain shit from the hole in his ass.

I know you're laughing, admit it, I am too. How could you not?

E
Yeah.... Here we are now... My father has passed, my knee is better, crutches were still in the trunk until I bought a new car in March of 2008, my cat survived her STD, and I never did get those pocket free cell games for my friends.

Pardon Me... Are you white?

Chalk it up to one of the most bizarre questions I've been asked, and shockingly I have heard it often, though not lately....

Some Africans moved in below me a few weeks ago. When I say the word "some" I mean to say, I'm not sure how many actually live there. They are perfectly quiet and cordial but so many come in and out of the door, I'm not sure who lives there, and they are quite sporadic in being there at all.

There is a wide variety of ages, dress and what I assume to be "social status." Again, there is not a whole lot of time for me to ascertain the situation as my only glimpse of them is when I walk to and from my door.

What has been unsettling the past few weeks, is without fail, when I leave my apartment, if any of them are outside, they immediately stop what they're doing and STARE. I politely say hello and smile, and as soon as I'm in my car they resume talking or tinkering with the 92 teal Honda Prelude they have been befuddledly working on. I do not mean to imply I have felt threatened or intimated by this, as this is not the case. When I say they have been polite, I'm serious. If the men are sitting or squatting, they stand up bow, nod, or place their hands together and wish me good day... It appears to be sincere, gracious and spoken softly with averted eyes

Today it was raining outside. There is a little covering over the entrances of the apartment and I am on the second floor. Some men were outside their door smoking a pipe and cigar and quietly speaking. Again, I was served up the salutation and stare. As I walked up the steps I heard whispering and then a sigh, and then a "WOULD YOU JUST GO ASK HER!!?!"

The conversation went like this:

"Excuse me, miss?"
"Yes? Are you talking to me?" I said. ( I couldn't tell!!!)
"Hi, uh yes, my parents are staying here while their house is being built, and these are my brothers.. " (names were provided but I can't remember.)
"It's nice to meet you. I'm Erin."
"Erin- Nice to meet you. Listen, can I ask you a question? I don't mean to be rude, but we've been seeing you around for awhile and well, we just want to know... are you a white girl?"
(I'm German/Irish which is as white as they come)
I look at my skin, laugh, and say, "Why yes, I suppose I am."

Then came the shout from one of the brothers.... "I KNEW IT!!! PAY UP!!!"

The man I was talking to apologized and said there was a bet amongst the family members. It appears 1/2 the house thought I was bi-racial and the other 1/2 was convinced I was white. He went on to say his mom thought I had the most beautiful curly hair.

I explained this wasn't the first time I'd heard this question, and there was no need to apologize. I did have the courage to ask, "So is this why you would stare at me whenever I came outside?" He sheepishly said yes.

I entered my apartment and smiled. This is what happens when curly hair meets summer humidity, gotta love it.

I Salute You- Ms. I-Have-Nothing-Better-To-Do-So-I'll-Become-The-Office-Nazi-Administrative-Manager

I know my plight isn't unique, but I am constantly amused at how easy it is for me to set this woman ablaze. Whether it's because I'm too prodigal w/ the office supplies, or I've moved the color-coded chair away from its color-coded table-mate, I continually receive stern words, long sighs, and other unpleasantries quite often as if I somehow didn't manage to graduate kindergarten.

Below is some advice on how NOT to be targeted by your local Office Nazi. Not all have been experienced at my current company nor am I describing one individual in particular.

1. DO NOT for any reason move, rearrange or post any furniture or signs w/o first clearing it w/ said Office Nazi.

2. If you fail #1, and an item shows up on a board or a chair is not back in its proper spot, an APB will be sent out in attempts to find the guilty culprit and the emails will become more severe in nature and downright threatening if you do not confess.

3. DO NOT remove the signs that say "DO NOT MOVE FURNITURE" off work tables when meeting with clients in order to make it look more "professional" because you will fail to put the sign back and THEN #2 happens.

4. DO NOT hire the "Flying Pancake Man" to come in and throw Pancakes at your co-workers for breakfast. While this helps boost office morale, Pancake Man must bring a propane tank into the premises and that violates all kinds of code which will send Office Nazi into such a tailspin, her head might fall off. Furthermore, she will reduce the guilty party for hiring said Pancake Man to tears for being so ludicrous to believe this would actually be permissible.

5. If you dismiss #4, then by all means, DO NOT allow syrup to fall on the floor and stain new carpet.

6. Despite rows of parking spaces, DO NOT allow anyone to enter through the side door. This is an "exit only" door. It doesn't matter if there's a tornado or blizzard outside, if you're foolish enough to park on the side of the building, you must walk around instead of having a co-worker let you in. DO NOT take mercy on the poor souls outside, because if you are caught opening the door, you will be verbally reprimanded by Office Nazi and a nasty email will be sent to your director.

7. DO NOT allow your associates to wear jeans despite 2 feet of snow outside unless it has been cleared by Corporate HR. Failure to do so will result in Office Nazi making the call for you at which point you must revoke the privilege because "Not every business unit has the ability to make such allowances."

8. DO NOT place files, folders, trophies, memorabilia etc on top of workstations. The Night Crew needs to be able to dust this area and it needs to remain clear.-- The only allowable item is the inch of dust that has accrued because the Night Crew has never cleaned up there.

9. DO NOT switch chairs with a coworker unless the color scheme of their workstation matches yours. At no time is office furniture to be "mismatched."

Also, DO NOT misplace, break, steal, or otherwise dispose of coordinating soap dispensers from bathrooms. There must be 4 at all times and these have been purchased with sensitivity and care. Treat them as if you are lucky to have soap.

10. DO NOT accidentally flush your ID badge down the toilet. Otherwise, you will have to alert Office Nazi and she will send an email to corporate security beginning with, " Erin M--- Employee #### has DESTROYED her ID badge...."

11. IT IS IRRELEVANT that Office Nazi has no bearing on your performance, promotability, or earning potential-- she can make your life hell just the same.

One Trump Card Down, 742 Remain

Yes, this pertains to the "Trump Card Theory" I so eloquently spelled out in the beginning of this blog. Oddly enough, this theory has manifested itself in many ways since that entry, and for the most part, it has worked in my favor.

For those of you who know me, I have issues asking for things. Whether it be for help, advice, a material object, whatever. I hate to be a burden to anyone and also don't like being told "no" or "I can't," so unless it's absolutely necessary, I'm pretty much handle things on my own.

Several weeks ago, I began searching for a condo. I'm not sure why as I'm perfectly happy where I am, but something in the back of my mind told me to investigate. I wasn't searching for anything crazy; 2 bedrooms, a garage, and a kitchen that I could actually cook in were top on my priority list.

One weekend, I found a condo that suited my needs and more. It was a little out of my price range, but I kept coming back to it. I met with a mortgage broker, sat down and priced it out and was pretty much ready to move forward-- Except for one thing; I needed my mom. This was the biggest step, most responsibility, highest risk decision I have ever made, and I didn't want to tread lightly. I tend to live life between the lines... consistent, steady, always stable and prepared if the bottom should ever drop out. Boring?- Perhaps, but for those of you who know me, my life is ANYTHING but boring.

So that Saturday afternoon, I called my mother... I strategically prepped her; attempting to detect her mood, her sense of adventure, and utilizing her new-found spontaneity since the passing of my father. I caught her at a great time as she had just spent the afternoon giggling through stores and errands with one of her best friends.

I dropped the bomb and requested she come down for the day on Sunday and head back on Sunday night- A 2 hr trip each way, no church, and no time to plan for Monday's school lessons. She quickly dismissed this saying she had too much to do, that she had NO experience in purchasing homes, and that since our tastes were similar, of course she would love it.

Instead of listing the reasons why I would like her present. I went straight for jugular, laying out the mac daddy of all trump cards. Though I will tell you I softened the blow by warning her it was coming... It went like this:

"Now Mom, I understand this is short notice, and I know you don't like making the trip in one day, but I have one thing to say, and it's big..."
"What is it, Erin?"
"You do a day trip for your grandchildren all the time, (for their b-days, baptisms, etc.) why won't you do it for me?"

----SILENCE, crickets chirping-----

Soon came laughter and then "OH YOU CREEP!" (An expression typically saved for my brother.) "You played the grand kid card!!!" More laughter came from my mother's mouth and I knew I had her convinced. She was coming.

The day actually worked out perfectly although I opted not to purchase this condo. Good friends of my mom were also in town that weekend and they met us up at the condo and went through it with me.

I currently am in contract in another condo community, but my mother has yet to see it. I made her promise though to help me pick out cabinets, flooring, and other features "at some point" this summer.....

Park the Car Ya Old Bag

It's funny, I'm the one in the family who has the reputation of being blunt, overly candid, and at times, inappropriately outspoken. The above statement however, did not come from my lips, but that of my sensitive, mild-mannered older brother, who is also the favorite. Who on earth would he say this to you ask? Why the Queen Supreme, Lady Margaret, aka my mother.

We took a family trip to Oglebay Park where we all reunited to celebrate my father by spreading his ashes where he grew up as a child. On the first night there, we decided to go up to the lodge and have the children burn up some energy in the indoor pool. My mother and sister drove separately while the kids, Matt, Julie and myself piled into the "Sport Van." (Keep in mind Sport Van = Mini Van.) As we pull into the parking lot, we see my mother's car up ahead stopped in the aisle, right across from the entrance. This is a PREMIUM parking spot. My brother, in his ultimate orneriness, sped up and crouched right up on my mom's bumper. We see this beautiful parking spot we assume my mother is trying to take. But she's not, she's just sitting there. After about 15 seconds, Matt rolls down the window and shouts, "Park the car you old bag!" Assuming my mom knew he was behind her. With that my mom sped off. I chastised my brother saying there's a special spot in hell for children who call their mothers old bags and make them pass up a good parking spots. He argued that wasn't what he was trying to do, and that Mags is just so kind-hearted, she realized that Matt has 3 kids, a slew of toys and gave up the parking spot out of consideration and love for her family.

Fast forward 3 hrs later. We have all had a round in the pool, the kids are tired, and it's time to head back to the cabin. My mother has sat on a chair holding Maggie and staring off into space at times and then staring straight ahead at this man from across the pool. She is not smiling. My mother is not a vain woman, but her Achilles heel is age. She will forever be perfectly coiffed, nails painted and immaculately dressed until her last breath. Never a grandma but "Nana" b/c it sounds less old. If you ever want to insult her just call her old and sit back and watch the rage.

So my brother while drying off, casually says to my mom, "Hey thanks for giving me that parking spot, I didn't mean to make you do that." With that, my mother's legs came uncrossed and she stood straight up and said, "That was you!?" She was incredulous, shocked and speechless. My brother, also surprised, asked, "Well who do you think it was? Didn't you see the red sport van w/ your smiling son and daughter sitting in the front seat?" We are all laughing now, as my mom said no, she didn't realize it was us and had been spending the entire evening thinking it was the man sitting on the other side of the pool. She was indignant that a stranger would say something like that to her especially at a place like Oglebay and pondered how he would've been able to see if she was "old" since she was in her car and shout came from behind her! It ruined her evening!

We continued to laugh and she explained the reason she sped off is because she overshot the parking space and was trying to reverse to get into it. Since my brother had come up so close behind her, she was unable to do so, and thus could not park the car.

We reassured my mother, advising her that she indeed was not, nor ever will be an old bag... But it does make you wonder how she didn't see her smiling children in the rear view mirror....

Crying Over Spilled Milk... Literally

I dedicate this post to my sister Tracy, as in her comments from my last posting inspired this topic.

The "Great Salad Debacle" of Memorial Day, 2008 was proceeded by the "Incident of the Spilled Milk" in the winter of 2004.

It was my first apartment by myself. I had lived with my brother after graduating and then with roommates. In the summer of 2003, I decided I wanted a place on my own. I had a good job and felt ready for this step. What I didn't account for was the numerous weddings, babies, bridal showers, bachlorette parties and baby showers I would become inundated with in late 2003 and into 2004. I choose to believe I went into debt due to the life events of my friends rather than because I bought too many Coach purses that year, but I'm sure it's a combination of both.

In early 2004 it was freezing. I couldn't keep my apt above 67 without it running constantly, so I had an electric blanket on my couch. I was struggling, but I never really let on how much. I made enough to cover my expenses, but was in a holding pattern when it came to paying down my debt. I knew down to the cent how much money I had to spend on groceries, car payment and bills and I lived very frugally in order to continue to pay down my consumer debt.

My brother often visited me at my apartment. I love him to death, but the boy is a human trash compacter when it comes to scarfing down food. He ravenous. On this particular day, he walked into my house, said hi, hugged me and announced he was hungry. I had 1/4 of a cup of milk left which I specifically reserved for the food I was preparing that week. Matt walked into my kitchen, grabbed a bowl proceeded to prepare a bowl of cereal. I asked him not to drink my milk--- that there wasn't enough for a bowl of cereal and that I needed the milk for the rest of the week. My brother thought I was kidding. I mean seriously, it was a 1/2 gallon container of milk... not something to break the bank. He ignored me, made his cereal, laughed when there wasn't enough milk, brushed past me, sat on my couch, turned on my TV, and ate his cereal!

Words cannot describe my rage in this scenario. I thought to myself, this son of a bitch strolls into MY house, Disregards MY wishes, eats MY food, on MY couch, watching MY TV!!! I felt disrespected and indignant that my sentiments could be brushed aside so easily. Without a word, I grabbed my keys and left, knowing if I stayed I would lose my control. I drove around and calmed myself down. Upon returning to my apartment, my brother realized that I didn't just take out the trash, I had left. Therefore, he left, too and was gone by the time I returned.

I received an angry phone call from him about leaving him in my apartment without saying anything. I laid into him... Tears streaming and all. I swear, my poor brother couldn't get past the part about arguing over milk. I kept saying, "Matt forget the milk. It's not the milk... It's what the milk REPRESENTS" So then he tried to determine what led up to this. Is it that time of the month, am I fighting with Mom, is everything OK at work? I got more and more upset, thinking "No, you idiot, I'm upset with YOU coming in to MY house and acting like YOU OWN IT..!

The fight eventually resolved. My brother came over the next week w/ a jug a milk to which I made wonderful tapioca pudding for us.

Now I'm more financially stable. I look forward to my brother's visits. I always keep a 12 pack of Diet Sunkist (I won't touch the stuff) for him as well as vitamin water and snackies. Hell, 2 days ago I gave him salad, a turkey bagel sandwich, 2 advil, vitamin water, AND sat through a 1/2 hour of BRAVEHEART.

I think i've grown.