Sundry Monday

My wonderful aunt and uncle (“Cabin Aunt” from the comments, if you’ve been reading for a while) came through town tonight, on the way from PA to pick up their daughter at Dulles airport. My cousin’s returning from nearly a year with her boyfriend in New Zealand… he’s from there, but they met in Korea when they went there to teach English. He’s finishing up a teaching course there, and she’s taking one here this summer.

So, her flight doesn’t land till after midnight, so the relatives dropped in and brought dinner – and dessert! That’s fun on a Monday, I tell ya.

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On tonight’s dog walk, which I volunteered to do because I am all about the exercise now, I observed the first fireflies of the season. May seems early to me – it seems it hasn’t been warm enough for long enough yet, but there they were in all their blinky glory. I also heard the chirpy singing of the frogs that live in the neighbors’ back yards – another sure sign of springtime in our neighborhood.

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Last week, I started the 30-day Shred. I’ve only done it twice, and I’m fixin’ to do it tomorrow morning. I’d forgotten how much better I feel when I start my day with exercise first thing.  It’s just super-hard to overcome the inherent gravity of my comfy bed. Anyway, it’s not all that interesting, but I started a separate page where I’ll track my progress with each installment. Until I get bored of it. Meaning bored of the tracking, not the Shred. Unless I get bored of that, too…

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Tomorrow morning I’m having this giant, hideous goiter tumor skin tag removed from my neck. It appeared at some point when I was in the midst of my childbearing years.  It wasn’t all that bad until my necklaces started catching on it.  Also, babies like to touch it, and that skeeves me out. DON’T TOUCH.

So last week I went to get my hair done and mentioned to my stylist that I was going to have it removed. She said she removed one from someone’s eyelid simply by tying a hair around it, which cut off the blood flow, causing the growth to dry up and fall off.  I threw up in my mouth a little bit, then assured her I felt its size warranted professional intervention by a trained medical practitioner.

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While I was at the salon, I was waiting for my shampoo. The customer before me in line sat down and announced to the Shampoo Lady, “I’m one of those people who doesn’t like to have their hair washed.” (I have never heard of “those people.” Have you?) Shampoo Lady silently pursed her lips, mostly (I’m guessing) owing to the fact that her Spanish was way better than her English. Then the customer continued, “I can do it all right by myself… but I have a very sensitive scalp.”

The customer suffered through the horrible torture, which the Shampoo Lady brought to a swift and merciful end. Then Shampoo Lady beckoned me to her chair at the sink.

“I loooooove a good shampoo,” I said to her. “My scalp is not sensitive at all!” I winked at her to make sure she understood that I had overheard the exchange with Mrs. Sensitive Scalp.

As Shampoo Lady rolled her eyes and shook her head, she replied, simply, “NO IS CLEAN,” in reference to the previous occupant of her chair. Then she lathered, rinsed, repeated, and gave me a nice scalp massage with the conditioner.

“Thank you,” I gushed. “That was a GREAT shampoo,” I told her, winking again.

Pomp and Circumstance

LAST FRIDAY, Peezer achieved a milestone: He moved the tassel and just like that, he “graduated” from preschool.  The teacher in charge really made a big deal out of it – a bit over the top, maybe, but the kids ate it up and it was really super-cute. They were all

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….and all

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…and all

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 …and the mamas were all

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…and the family was all

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I kept my weeping to a minimum, but there were a couple of moments where I got choked up. I bawled like a baby at Seth’s “graduation” – I guess because he was my first. With Peezer, I experienced a touch of melancholy, because he’s my last. We are beginning a series of “last” milestones: The last first day of kindergarten, the last loss of primary teeth, the last insert-important-milestone-here.

Also, our last days at this daycare center are upon us. Peezer will be there through the summer, so it’s not goodbye yet.  The teachers he has had along the way have really been great. In fact, these wonderful ladies

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…were also The Boss’s teachers, seven years ago! So yeah, there’s a little bit of sadness mixed in with the joy and celebration. Even though I’ll be happy not to write that check every week.

So, congratulations, Peezer! Mommy and Daddy are very proud of you. Now, you’d better get busy working on your resume and applying for internships, and what have you arranged for a summer job, young man? We’ll not have you sitting around on your butt all day every day for ten weeks…

I’m back!

ACCORDING TO THE STATS provided by Typepad, I’ve had zero page views today, so I know you’re not all holding your breath, wondering if I survived my crazy couple of weeks.

However, this being My Blog, I feel compelled to tell you that YES, in fact, I have survived, and then some.

Last Wednesday and Thursday evening I was up till midnight or later, putting the finishing touches on the Peezer’s class “yearbook” that is to be distributed at his “graduation” “ceremony” this Friday. Had to give the ladies in the office a week to churn out 20-some color copies of 28 pages chock full of Our Little Darlings (portraits, current candids and baby shots), all of the teachers (with names) class group photos and candids, selected reminiscences from the parents of “graduates”, plus a clip ‘n ‘save class roster so we can all keep in touch long after our tots move the tassel this Friday. It’s a masterpiece, if I do say so myself – as much as it can be, considering I’m self-taught in Publisher and did much of it fueled only by adrenaline.

With that behind me, I was free to party do laundry sleep cook mop the floor read the newspaper focus on studying for the HR professional certification exam. I crammed massive volumes of theoretical items not remotely applicable to my day-to-day reality corporate buzzwords Very Important Facts into my aging gray matter, hoping to retain the difference between a Yellow Dog Contract and a Wildcat Strike, between HRM and HRD, with shades of Demming and Maslow and Six Sigma, with accents of FMLA and FLSA and ERISA and NLRB and HEY, ARE YOU NODDING OFF?

Listen, I get how boring this is for you, because few folks outside of the realm of human resources have any idea what SPHR stands for.  It’s Senior Professional in Human Resources, and I choose to focus on the Professional part more than the Senior part, because to do otherwise would mean acknowledging that I’ve been steadily plodding along in my career since the days of the rotary phone the first Bush (41) AdministrationWhich I have.  And that’s OK except that I will probably be working for as many years yet as I have already completed, and… well, never mind.

So on Exam Day, I lumbered zipped into the parking garage and before I got out of my car to feed the meter, a nice lady walked over and told me she was leaving her spot with 3+ hours on the meter, and did I want to park in her spot? And seeing as how it was an end spot (score!), I thanked her profusely for her good deed and whipped my bus giant gas-hogging SUV right in behind her.

Fueled by this good omen, I entered the test center and was asked to show my ID, then empty my pockets and turn them inside-out(!), lock my things in a locker, and proceed to computer #6, where I spent the next 3.5 hours scratching my head and wondering if I was even taking the right test, so different were the exam questions than the flash cards and books I’d barely flipped through read in preparation. I regurgitated facts and calculated cost-per-hire and postulated on needs analyses and strategic HR and blah blah blah blah snnnnzzzzz…

…and guess what?


(Cue the Hallelujah Chorus!)

Which I was really hoping I would, considering the last time I took this test and passed it, I had two wee sons in the house who were both younger then than Peezer is now. 

Did I mention PEEZER’S GRADUATION? One of the other moms of a graduate made a comment about going shopping for a new dress for graduation, and I was all for you or for your daughter, and she was all for me, of course, and then I began hyperventilating panicked because none of my cute dresses fit me right, owing to my recent weight gain (but I’m counting calories now in an attempt to avoid having to buy a whole new wardrobe, and that’s a whole other blog post waiting to happen), so to reward myself for passing that ridiculous exam, I went shopping. And I found something very cute to wear that hopefully won’t scream I bought this for this very occasion! But frankly I don’t care if it does, because The Boss is getting confirmed into our church in a few weeks, and I’ll need something to wear then, too. So you see, there, how I effectively rationalized my purchase killed two birds with one stone?

(Shut up. It’s not like I bought new shoes or anything.)

So that’s what I’ve been up to. All that plus the laundry, too – of which there was so much to do that we had a “laundry hangover” this weekend and I am still trying to push through loads of laundry even though it is Wednesday night and it is still not all done.

But denial is more fun, and Glee is on in 30 minutes, so if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to fix myself a nice snack of ice cream and chocolate milk water and a rice cake and settle in for an hour of mindless TV.