quality control

Between the months of January and April I decided to do a test run on trying out a PT job from home. I chose to do this after thinking it over for several weeks, evaluating my schedule (Zane's schedule), praying about it in the temple, and really talking it through with Mike. It would mean sacrificing the somewhat tidiness of the house, t.v. time, Mike time on nights he would not have school, and have a less -than flexible schedule. It would mean no more random trips to Ikea in the middle of the afternoon for a Swedish Meatball lunch in NJ.

I felt confident it was what I should do and looked forward to the cerebral challenge I felt I was lacking in my life. I got hooked up with a laptop and cel phone. I got immediately immersed in conversations detailing Regional Logistics Management, Property Tax Accounting, and National Transportation to name a few. I learned much about the Supply Chain Finance side of a successful business. I spoke with highly intelligent men and women who appreciated my assistance in the interview pre-screening process. Many people I passed on to managers got hired. Many conversations with managers and candidates brought laughter into my afternoon or evening (times when Zane would be sleeping). I felt a sense of pride for matching good people to excellent jobs with a noble and fast-growing company.

While I felt like I was literally spinning from dishes to play time to professional talk, the days went by quickly and financial reserve was comforting. I also felt an enormous weight lifted from my shoulders the day I handed back the laptop and cel phone. I felt like I could be a complete mother and wife again. I felt like I could enjoy more moments at a more natural pace without rushing to get to the next scheduled thing.

I could take walks with Zane and let him point at each wheel of every parked car we pass as he learns to connect his words to objects. I could make a healthy, planned-out dinner instead of slapping PB on bread too many nights in a row. I am less of a slave to a self-made, tight schedule. I am happier.

And on Mother's Day when I held my son in the rocking chair curled up in a ball, he lifted his head from my shoulder and looked into my eyes. He put his arms around my neck with his whole face smiling at me, I knew if he could say the words he would have told me he loved me. That is a moment I felt all the appreciation and self-worth I needed for a whole lifetime. Moments like that help me to know I made the right decision in June of 2004 when I walked away from my career.

I needed the PT job experience to appreciate those little moments again and remember how lucky I am to have them.

EXPECT EVERYTHING

simply wow.

reflections

I wonder if it is common for people (me) to reflect on memories at a state of transition in one's (my) life.

One of my favorite Brooklyn street memories was when I was walking to catch the N train in Park Slope on a hot summer day and some college girls were having a stoop sale. Only as I scanned the items I thought it odd much was snowboarding gear and some male T-shirts carefully hung on a rack. Then I saw a cardboard sign with chalk scawled on it, which read: 'Ex-Boyfriend Stuff: Best Offer'.

Another was when I decided our apartment was too small to keep all the cassette tapes we owned, especially when we had no cassette player. I filled up 2 empty, giant Tide soap boxes and put them by the curb. A generation of music, it was painful but necessary. The next day I saw the garbage organizer for our building ride away with them on his bike. He was among one of the old Puerto Ricans in south slope and had an old tape player duct-taped to the middle of the bike. A bike that also had a barbie, a flag, a bell, and several odd items taped to it. I still chuckle when I imagine him blasting Mike's Fugazi or my Pop Will Eat Itself as he happily rides away.

Samoas

We have guests for a BBQ arriving any moment and what am I doing? I am hiding my Girl Scout cookies like they are the Holy Grail. I always get Tagalongs thinking they are the PB sandwich ones, but they are not. They are the icky ones with a smudge of PB within a crumbly cookie covered in a thin chocolate. I wonder if I can find someone who would be up for a trade on Craig's List.

In other news, much to my dismay, A Midsummer Night's Dream at the Lincoln Center was a bore. At intermission I contemplated sneaking outside to see the fool drowning himself in the giant fishbowl. I appreciate amazing dancers a touch above the average person and believe me there was superb talent. I blame the choreography. Puck was slightly entertaining, but not laugh-out-loud comedy as others in the audience clearly felt. The energy of the children and their creative costumes were a delight. I acknowledge it was not a date night at a comedy club, but it also was not Swan Lake or Giselle. I had to stop and look around and ask myself if this is the right time in my life to be attending a ballet. Was I deserving of it? We were on the ground floor and as I scanned the room I saw very few people who did not have a hearing aid, a walking cane, orthopedic shoes, blue hair, or Chanel No. 5 oozing from their pores. I still long for a good rock concert and they are much more cost effective in comparison.

I also acknowledge I am not nearly as cultured as my neighbors in isles above and below me and have never picked up a Shakespeare play. I am guessing this has much to do with my misguided critique.

gotta learn html

I am a sucker for marketing. New food products get me every time, especially if they involve chocolate. My friend Lindsey and I can talk for hours about this. We consider ourselves experts.

I have been waiting for these Nestle Crunch Stixx for months. I have seen commercial after commercial teasing me with anticipation. Each weekly grocery trip I leave with my head hung low, much digust in Stop N Shop's candy isle. WELL. Today is the day. They finally carry them! It's like opening a present on Christmas morning: testing out the highly anticipated new product, before your friends are talking about it, while the commercials are still fresh. It's the cutting edge of candy right in the palm of my hand!

The packaging- opens much like a pack of cigs. Fitting, as my addiction to chocolate is much like that of a nicotine addict. Tubes of what I imagine to be rolled-up Crunch bars are individually wrapped. They are about as thick as an index finger and about as long as, well, a pen.

Moving on...So the taste. Well, rather disapponting. It was too much like a chocolate pirouette [http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00061EXCO/103-5409553-7443851?v=glance&n=3370831] with chocolate coating. I didn't taste the slightest resmblance of a Nestle Crunch bar. Also, it melted in my hands. Maybe they could make the individual packaging like a push-up pop so it wasn't so messy. I haven't been this let down since the Doritos Rollito's [http://www.fritolay.com/fl/flstore/cgi-bin/ProdSubEV_Cat_302_SubCat_352964_NavRoot_361689.htm].

In sum, I will not buy them again. I will go for the original Crunch bar instead. Kind of a bummer. Like opening up that box on Christmas morning you thought for sure would be a small t.v., but really turned out to be a sleeping bag.

This would still be the PRIME week to get my girlscout cookies.

a night with netflix

"It feels like someone's throwing marshmallows at me"

umbrella tree

mint car

Dear Girl Scout,

Last week would have been a perfect week to get my girl scout cookies from you as my husband was absent and it would have been nice to have a little treat.

Today would have been a great day to get them, as well, as I am feeling really tired and could have used the sugar boost.

If they don't arrive by the end of the week I swear I am going to call the better business bureau.

Signed,
Your Best Customer

I am not aware of the blossom scene in SF springtime, but I have heard cherry misty floats are quite accessable. This makes the Mister beyond thrilled.