Verklempt

I'm quite sure that's not how you actually spell that, but it applies anyway. There are some major changes happening at my work that are making me uber depressed. My workplace is changing significantly, and, for all intents and purposes, I'll be getting a new job, even though I didn't feel finished with the old one yet.

I like my job. I like the people I work with, and the stuff I do, and the environment in which I do it. My workplace has been through several significant periods of change in the last couple of years and it had recently (I thought) settled down again. But alas, no. More big changes. And I don't wanna!

Maybe if I try the Little Man's tactic of screaming, carefully laying down and banging my head against the floor repeatedly, I'll make it all stop. It never works for him, but for me? Maybe.

I'll let you know how it goes.

I See Stain People

I can't remember a time when I didn't see people in the stain on doors. It's kind of like seeing shapes in clouds, only with wood grain its easier because it doesn't change shape and there are some doors that you end up staring at a lot (bathrooms . . .)

When I was growing up our bathroom door had what looked like a man in a hooded cloak imbedded in it. Over the years he was a monk, a wizard, the grim reaper - whatever I happened to be into at the time. My bedroom door housed a couple of gorillas.

I find it oddly comforting to be able to see images in the wood grain. That's one reason why I prefer houses with stained wood. It gives a place personality.

I still see weird things in doors- in the bathroom door at work there is a cartoon goat in the corner of the door, and right smack dab in the middle is what appears to be a woman in labor (or as Mr. Me would say, "waiting for a bus"). I have to admit, it's a bit unsettling to have to stare at that every time you sit down for a tinkle.

Next time you see a stained door, stare at it for a minute. What do you see?

More Tidbits

I'm so very out of vacation mode. So the promised vacation stories, they're not coming. I live in the here and now, baby, and since I didn't write them down at the time, they're lost. The end.

Oh, my Little Man. What a character. He grew at least 3 feet when we were gone, and aged 5 years. I swear! I wouldn't exaggerate these things to you. When we saw him for the first time after our trip I actually didn't recognize him for a moment or two. And when I did, my internal monologue was saying Really? Surely not. That looks like someone else's kid.

Happily, it was our adorable little guy. He did cool things for the grandparents, like climbing into the full bathtub fully clothed, and bringing Grandpa his shoes every morning.

Since he's gotten home he's developed an intense fascination with my chest. Especially when I'm wearing only a bra. He pokes, and prods, and pinches until mommy says "stop! that hurts Mommy's boobies" This morning, he morphed his new word of the day - happy! - into boobie! And now he wanders around saying "Happy! Boobie! Happy! Boobie!" I don't think he remembers nursing, but if he does, the memories are fond ones.

Addendum

In addendum to yesterday's post:

1. As was so handily pointed out by Cagey, I stand corrected - the Caribbean is a sea, and the Gulf of Mexico is, well, a gulf. The Atlantic and Pacific are the only REAL oceans on my list. They're salty and watery and big, so in my uneducated world they count, dammit!

2. Note to self: when you feel like "writing" stop immediately! There is no need to torture readers like that.

3. Note to readers: previously threatened additional torturous "writing" has been permanently cancelled. Come back! There will be less bleeding from your eyes caused by future posts. Promise!

The Old Men

Hey, we're back! Had a fabulous time. Turns out that if the Little Man isn't around, vacations inspire me to write things in my head. So, here's the first of several posts courtesy of North Carolina.

We visited the beach several times because, hey! We were on an island, and it was close. Being a white girl - key word WHITE - I don't tend to be much of a beach bunny. Just looking at the summer sun causes my skin to crisp and, conversely, I hate the smell and feel of sun tan lotion. So I tend to hibernate in the air conditioning in the summer, waiting for the blessed other three seasons where a girl can go out-of-doors without being baked alive.

Our first trip to the beach was supposed to be a sunset stroll through the surf. It was sunset, and we did walk through the surf, but the Atlantic had other ideas than to just docilely tickle our ankles. By the time we were done with our little walk we'd both been splashed up to chest level by several rogue waves. The sea seemed just a bit pissy that evening, roiling and choppy and petulantly slapping the shore with strong waves now and again. Showing its muscle to the Island that it just missed getting the smackdown from hurricane Ophelia.

Subsequent trips were in the morning. Being a water lover (and not a sun worshipper) Mr. Me and I spent the entire time playing in the shallows. The Atlantic was feeling more benevolent, maybe a little playful. Like my Grandpa playing "Eee-hawww" (his version of 'gotcha'). We walked around in the water, picking up shells, standing up to the surf. I stopped counting the number of times the Old Man in the Sea knocked me on my ass. He would catch me just off guard and send an extra strong wave to push me into the sand. We ended up soaking and wet and exhausted and exhilarated, with suits full of boulder-sized grains of sands. Man, I love playing with the ocean.

To me, oceans have distinct personalities. Hailing from a landlocked state, I'm not much the expert, but I've visited four and whenever I visit an ocean I just can't keep personifying adjectives from springing into my head. I must say, I'm not a huge fan of the Atlantic. So much anger, and crappy Florida beaches. The North Carolina beach was lovely, but the Florida Atlantic beaches are harsh, with course sand and choppy, cold water for the most part. I like Florida beaches on the Gulf side much better. Water so laid back you can envision Jimmy Buffet staring out over it and writing Grapefruit, and lovely, soft beaches. I've only been to the Pacific once, but I think Neptune must live there. It's very powerful and stern. (Neptune's younger, less straight-laced brother must live in the Atlantic - same feel, less "umph")

My very favorite ocean is the Caribbean. It's beautiful and clear and blue, and it could very well be run by mermaids. The surf is low-key, and the beaches are breathtaking, dazzling white and soft as the Little Man's behind.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. . .

All this ocean talk is making me want to go back Right Now! So I'm stopping. Stay tuned for more vacation snippits!

Vacation

I'm not the smartest of people, that I freely admit. Take for instance that I scheduled 2, yes TWO, vacations in September. Turns out they are less than 1 week apart. Doh! I didn't mean to. Really, it just seems to have happened. But this error has left me poorer. And weary of cleaning the house and doing mountains and mountains of laundry for vacation. And, yes, tired of vacations.

And then there's the location of Vacation 2. We're going to Kitty Hawk, NC. Beautiful wilderness location in the barrier islands. Yes, the ones that are currently being pummelled by hurricane Ophelia. And, you guessed it, it's not refundable. Wheee! This should be fun! Motion sickness girl in stormy airplane ride.

So, we are in preparation. Packing. Cleaning. Laundering. Finding suitable (read: willing, reliable and breathing) cat sitters. Dropping off the Little Man with the pre-arranged sitters (there are higher qualifications for the Little Man sitting): the Grandparents. Supposedly Ophelia will have taken her leave when we get there on Friday. Supposedly it will be hot and humid the entire time (SIGH) Here's hoping that the Weather Channel is right, even with the hot and humid part.

I'm so not ready for this. I guess I'd better call the resort and see if they're still there. Cross your fingers for me!

At least one line is inspired by Monte Python

Hard to post the regular blather when Katrina is top-of-mind, yet so many others have said it so much better, and so much more. Bottom line is, give and pray, 'k?

And now for something completely different. . .

We recently returned from a week's vacation in good ol' Branson, MO. Is this the vacation destination that I would like to define me to people on the Internet? Oh Lord, please no. Is it a somewhat close location that we could rather inexpensively vacation with family? Yep, that's why we've been more times than I'd care to ennumerate.

We went for a week, with different family members joining us for different parts of the week. 'Twas lovely, though lots of work for a vacation what with the Little Man and all. Some highlights:

• Watching the Little Man chase geese night after night in the lawn behind our condo. He would run after them with arms outstretched, looking like he was trying to give them hugs. Then he would invariably fall again and again in the goose-poo covered grass. Yum!
• The term Baldknobbers is not just a made-up word to post on billboards and make tourists snigger. It has actual meaning - who knew?
• Ripley's Believe it or Not is a giant rip-off - buy a copy of Guiness Book of World Records and feed your cravings to gaze upon oddities that way.
• Got the coolest new jewelry - a magnetic hematite piece that can be necklace/ankle bracelet/bracelet/whatever you wish. Great to play with in meetings!
• I-am-so-sick-of-buffets.
• The Little Man was sitting at the top of a craft-mall aisle in his stroller pushed by his Grandma. When Mr. Me and I turned the corner to see him, he stared at us, expressionless, and raised his eyebrows twice. I doubled over laughing - ornery little stinker.

That's it, that's all I got.