The elevators at work have quit speaking to me. I wonder if I've offended
them somehow? I miss their melodic intonations of "47th floor. Going up,"
everytime I stepped aboard. It's not quite the same without them...
....and there's room for me to hot glue peacock feathers on them!!!!
Something Old - family wedding handkerchief that's been passed down 5 generations now.
Something New - do the dress and the veil count for that?
Something Borrowed - this slot is still open if anyone is interested :)
Something Blue - Hooray for shoes!!!!!
Wake reluctantly.
Trudge to computer desk in hopes that email will wake me more effectively.
Begin to apply make-up.
Am uncertain which shade of eyeshadow to apply.
Will I look too made up?
Not made up enough?
Dress with equal amounts of uncertainty.
Loathe clothing for being too casual.
Until the weekend when I will loathe it all for being too dressy.
Hug and kiss the girls and Ron, longing for another hug as I walk to my car.
Reverse out of parking spot, hoping I'm not in anyone's way.
Drive to work.
Am I driving purposefully enough?
Do I change lanes like everyone else?
Maybe use a little less blinker; a little more brake.
Miss turn while wondering if my turning technique is up to par.
Pull into parking garage.
Did I swipe my card the right way?
Sure, the barrier raised, but was there an authoritative wrist flick?
Find a parking spot.
Why was that so easy?
Maybe I shouldn't park here.
Tenatively leave car, wondering if it will be towed.
Elevator takes me to the tunnels under downtown.
Hope I'm turning the right way as I step off the elevator.
See sign confirming that I am going the right way.
Wonder if anyone noticed me looking at the sign.
They'll know that I don't know where I'm going and they'll think less of me.
The tunnels are deserted this early in the morning.
A long white corridor begs to be photographed.
I think of what angle I would shoot from, and what settings I would use.
I notice that they are pumping in air from above, and simulating light from outside.
I can almost believe there are windows, and I have a fabulous photograph in my head.
The straight corridor ends and I'm at an intersection.
Turn down the left tunnel, hoping it's the right direction and hoping that I didn't look hesitant.
Wonder if my heels are clicking too loudly.
Try to walk more softly.
Wonder if left heel makes a different noise than right heel.
Try to walk more firmly on the left heel.
Fear I have forgotten to walk.
Concentrate on not tripping.
Oh shit. An escalator.
Count my steps in rhythm with the escaltor and hope I have timed it correctly.
Time it incorrectly and have to pause for a step to rise.
The person in front of me is walking up the escalator.
Should I walk too?
Try to walk but feel unsteady.
Can't stop walking because will then be the girl on the escalator who started walking and then stopped.
Awkardly exit moving staircase.
Aim roughly towards elevator bank.
Arrive at wrong elevator bank and keep walking.
Wonder how I'm going to turn around in the middle of the lobby.
Don't want to be the girl who turned around in the middle of the lobby.
Also don't want to go outside and walk all the way around block.
Fumble in purse for cell phone.
Feign receiving a text message that requires me to stop in my tracks and reverse direction.
Navigate to correct elevator bank.
Push button.
Light dings to announce elevator, so I walk over to it.
But it takes awhile for the elevator to arrive and the doors to open.
Did I walk over too soon?
Should I uncross my arms?
Do I get my access card out yet?
Are they all looking at me?
Elevator purges its passengers and accepts me among the new ones.
Beautiful natural wood lines each elevator car.
Try to see which wood is in this car and observe the grain.
Wonder if I could get a photo.
Remember that I can't even stand in a crowd without hyperventilating.
Chances of me randomly photographing (while unmedicated) are therefor slim to none.
Wonder if I could come on the weekend or after hours to shoot the elevators.
Arrive at 47.
Doors open and I don't know which way to turn.
Turn the wrong way.
Turn around and head the other way while silently cursing myself.
Realize someone is walking behind me.
Wonder if I'm walking fast enough.
Fear I'm walking too fast.
Will they think I think they're chasing me?
Walk slower.
Forget how to walk.
Arrive at elevator.
Push button and fumble in purse to find access card.
Zipper is stuck on purse threads and I wonder if they're watching me.
Door opens and I insert access card to get to my floor.
Access card doesn't work.
Re-insert.
Re-re-insert.
Re-re-re-insert and remember to breathe.
Access card works and I make it to my floor.
Head down hallway to office.
Wish I could make it all day without having to talk to anyone or walk anywhere.
It's only 7:30am.
I am anxious and exhausted and terrified.
It happens everywhere.
Grocery store.
Mall.
Church.
Restaurants.
I'm tired of fighting it everyday.
I'm tired.
I want it to go away.
Show us something that is standing in your way.
Me. I'm my own obstacle and enemy and defeater. But I'm working on that, I promise.
Besides yours, who do you think deserves "The Best Mother in the World" award?
Submitted by Connie.
All these moms and more.... basically every mother who takes part in the sacred duty that is motherhood. We are all guilty of mistakes; we are all imperfect; we have all lost our patience; we sometimes wish we could rewind and do things over. But we are also all the proud co-creators of these miraculous little beings. We love them fiercely and without question. Our children are our hearts walking around outside our bodies. Our children are us in being, spirit, and personality... the good and the bad. And every single one of us is the best mom in the world. Just ask our kids....
I know I haven't been the best daughter lately. I don't visit with you enough and I lose my patience very easily. I guess I'm still adjusting to our new relationship and sometimes its harder than others. Part of me still wants to be the little girl you rescue and assure and take care of, but I know I'm too big for that and it's my turn to do that for you if you need it. But really, you don't need rescuing. You are the smartest, strongest, most resilient person I know...
I love that you are human. That you have always been human and always acknowledged your imperfections. I remember finding your journal when I was in the 8th grade and we lived in Groves. I probably shouldn't have snooped and what I read was very personal, but it was also comforting to realize that you were a person outside of a mom. Everything you did, you did for me and Linz, and I know now how easy it is to lose yourself in that. You never ever lost yourself, but you never put being a mother second.
Growing up, I was so proud of you. Some kids are embarassed of their mothers, but I always wanted to show you off. You were the prettiest, smartest, funniest and coolest mom in the whole world. You let me dress myself however I wanted, even if it made you cringe to see me wear the same sweatshirt for 10 consecutive days. You let me be tardy for class that one day in the 8th grade because "Suicide Blonde" came on the radio just as we pulled up, but since we both liked it so much, we parked and sang along with INXS until the song was over.
I also remember being grounded constantly, and for that I am very thankful. You instilled in me a strong sense of what was right, and I grew up to learn that sometimes you do the right thing for the right reasons, and not just so you won't get in trouble. You always made it clear that yes, you were cool and I could come talk to you about anything, but you were still my mom... not my friend.
Eventually you did become my friend. I will always cherish our smoky talks in the house on Kings Walk... You sitting in your bed and me in the wicker chair close by. Cigarettes and diet Coke flowing between us as we shared stories, secrets, laughter. You admitted past mistakes that I didn't realize, and you let me know how proud you were of the woman I was becoming.
When we almost lost you, I thought I would die. I didn't know how I would go on without my momma, my friend, my equal, my confidante. I am so grateful that you didn't die, but it made me realize that I do need to go on without you. Well, not without you of course, but I needed to give you some space to be something other than my mom. You needed to be Barbara for a change, and not my symbiotic other half. It's been hard, but I love the shape our relationship is taking, even if it's still rough around the edges. You'll always be my best friend, biggest supporter, and my oracle for which I seek most answers. I'll always admire your intelligence, your fighting spirit, and your ability to conquer all... even if you don't think you have any of that anymore. You do and I love you for it.
For my Mother's Day present to myself, I went to Mercer Arboretum with the girls. My girls have all the sudden become girly and are scared of snakes and spiders, but they were very sweet and let me take pictures of flowers "on every aisle" as Allie put it...
One of four bugs the girls were not afraid of (the others being a green ladybug, a dragonfly, and a roly poly)
We had seen a snake very near here, so I couldn't get the exact angle I wanted as Allie was fretting very loudly about the snake jumping up and eating her face. I was mocking her for her sudden fear of snakes, until I later found out that copperheads are native to that particular park. Oops! Mother of the Year!
This baby fern was my favorite. So tiny and curly and delectable. This is the picture straight out of camera, and I love it. I almost NEVER love pics SOOC.
And here she is with a minimum of tweaking. She's so pretty. I think I'll call her Fern.
The standard, cheesy rose picture. I wish you could smell them... they smelled somehow like raspberries.
No idea what these are called, but I want to stick googly eyes on them. Not because of any SNL Christoper Walken obsession, but because they just look like they'd have such personality, right?
This flower looked thirsty when I first shot it. I've been reading Blurbomat alot lately though and wanted to post-process it out of reality. Actually, I just post-processed it into hydration. Everyone's happy this way.
I love flowers that look like party decorations. And I really love pretending I have a macro lens, even though I don't.
More to come as I edit them. I got a lot of really good shots. One thing I love about Texas is that even when it's a million degrees outside (read: 92 with 92% humidity), there is always so much green, so much shade, and so much lushness. Is that a word? It is now.
What are you most sensitive about?
Sadly, I'm very sensitive about my weight. I know it makes very little sense because I'm not overweight by any means. I only weigh a few more pounds than I did in high school and am very lucky in that I don't really have to do much to stay that way. Sure, some of it's flabbier than it used to be, but I can still fit in my size 6's and look halfway decent, so I should be grateful. Honestly though, I forget that I'm skinny by most standards. The way I look in my mind doesn't match what others see. In my head, I'm the smart and funny chubby girl.
It's my mother's fault completely. And my sister's. Well, not really (but really). They are those kind of people who lament how skinny they are. "Oh no! My size 2's are getting baggy!" wasn't an uncommon thing to hear growing up. Mom didn't diet - quite the contrary. She would stock up on avocadoes, half and half, and pound cake, trying to bulk up. She is just very naturally petite and adorable. Linz isn't quite petite at 6' tall (sorry, 5'11.75") but she has the same light speed metabolism. The girl eats like a frat boy... pizza, pop tarts, cheetos... but struggles to gain weight.
Neither of them is gloating about it. They are actually very sensitive about it too. Linz has visited her doctor several time to figure out why she loses weight without trying, and gets frustrated when the nurses are quick to say "Oh dear, I wish I had your problem! Poor you!". She feels summarily dismissed and like no one takes her seriously. Everyone assumes she has an eating disorder or is a model. She's even starting to take it personally when people comment on her baby daughter saying "What a tiny little thing!". Of course, with our tendency towards black humor, she's less inclined to actually get defensive and much more likely to say "One can never start the binge/purge cycle too early if you want to be on the pages of Vogue."
Mom's metabolism has actually slowed down considerably. She whines and complains about being a massive size SIX now, but I remind her that all she ever wanted was a butt and she finally got one. While she was in the hospital for her aneurysm, she dropped down to 80 pounds (and she's 5'7"). She looked more like she was coming home from Auschwitz than Shreveport, and I think it was enough of a scare that her body decided that maybe it would go ahead and hang on to some of those calories.... just in case.
I love that Mom is finally normal shaped now, and I have to remind myself that I am too. So I won't fit into a size two, so my stomach will never be used as an implement of washing clothes, so I weigh more than my mom did when she was 9 months pregnant with me. I will remind myself constantly that *I AM NORMAL* and they are not. I won't obsessively do situps or try to starve myself. And I will avoid the scale at all costs, preferring to track my weight by the assurance that I don't need to buy a bigger size of clothes. I will not be sensitive about my weight. But let's not talk about it, just in case.....
The job search is going as job searches do: weeks of nothings followed by 3
big hits all at once. I found a very capable recruiter who is well
connected with the boutique oil and gas places. They're the ones you want to
work for because they have deep pockets, awesome benefits, and a great
culture. I've got an interview with one today, one pending next week, and
one going on as we speak. Well, it's not really an interview yet, as they
don't have a position open yet. But the recruiter placed the HR manager and
knows they will have an opening soon, and would love me for it. Meanwhile
their receptionist is out having surgery and they needed a temp for a week.
Her theory is that if they get some exposure to me in person, they won't be
able to help but love me. Here's hoping...
So meanwhile, I'm playing receptionist. Which, okay I'm not complaining.
The offices are great - very posh and lovely and close to home. There's a
fabulous cafeteria downstairs for lunch, an excellent view of the park, and
most of the people are actually very nice.
However, I am a receptionist. Not just a receptionist, but a TEMPORARY
receptionist. To some people, that equates to something you scrape off the
bottom of your shoe. There are those who don't deign to acknowledge my
presence, even if I say hello. There are those who look at me, cock their
head and inquire where the "usual girl" is. Which makes me feel a little
better that they can't even be bothered to remember her name. Some people
actually come and grab files off of my desk without even uttering a word as
to who they are or why they are taking things. Which just to me seems like
professional courtesy.
And then the job itself...wow. And it's not that I'm above being a
receptionist, I'm not. I admire those who can do it and do it well and
recognize it is a valuable skill set. It just happens to be one that I
don't particularly have. People call on the phone and ask for "Jim". Um,
hi it's a big company, you might have to be more specific. Maybe my mother
just raised me better, but when I call a place of busines no matter how big
or small, I always ask for person by first and last name. There are people
who rant and demand to speak to a live person when their calls go to
voicemail. There are people who just call and want to know if so-and-so is
in yet, or if they're in the bathroom, or standing at the water cooler, or
in a meeting. Um, I don't know. I'm chained to a desk for one, and
wouldn't even recognize if that person came up and spat in my face (which I
haven't ruled out yet) for another.
Most people have been really patient. I apologize in advance by way of
explaining, "I'm a temp, so I'm not sure who that is/where they are/what
department handles that, but I will absolutely find out for you." Most
people are understanding. Then there is that one gem who called in and said
"This isn't the temp, is it?" with an audible sneer. I wanted to say "Nope,
it's Jesus posing as the least of you, and you totally failed."
Because really, if someone is pleasant and resonably capable, is it too much
to ask to be treated like a human? I don't remember who said it but I am
even more convinced of the wisdom that you can judge a person's character
most accurately, not by how he treats his superiors, but by how he treats
the temporary receptionist who is very kind and smart and has no control
over whether people answer their extensions or not. (Or something to that
effect....)
Meanwhile, hooray for easy money. If all I have to do for a week is sit
pretty, answer the phone 10 times an hour, open mail, and withstand a little
bit of condescension from a few people who weren't taught better by their
mama's, then I've really nothing to complain about.
And remember, please be nice to the receptionist next time you go
somewhere. It's just good manners, people....
See what I mean about trying to write? I'm going to stop that now before anyone puts an eye out. Instead, lets look at pretty pretty pictures together, shall we?
Thursday, Linz and I got to go to an exclusive bridal event at Hotel Derek. I'm not having my wedding there, but I'm down for free hors d'oevures and martinis. We practiced different wedding planning related gestures to use while talking about other things. And we looked adorable and shadowy.
We had a couple of martinis and came back to my place to eat dinner before having a girls' night. Getting ready is always fun. Beware of flared nostrils. They are massive and deadly. Do not try this at home.
Ron took the obligatory pre-launch photo. But Linz and I watch too much America's Next Top Model, so we were doing commercial, catalogue, and couture poses, while giving good neck and - of course - smiling with our eyes. Shown here is couture. (Linz is a national sternum and collarbone supermodel, clearly.)
Yes we're very silly. But not quite as silly as Ron who was trying to attack me with a blood pressure cuff. Sphygmomanometers: As fun to say as they are to play with.
We had a fun evening, which was much needed by all. My mom watched the kids for us, so Friday I watched them for her so she could recuperate.
Saturday, the girls and I went to the new park in downtown Houston called Discovery Green. It's trying to be the Central Park of Houston. It's usually really really fun, but it was pretty crowded on Saturday, and my little clones were too anxious to play very much. They were however eager to smile pretty :)
We also got to check out these half sphere thingies (their technical name, of course). Supposedly, one person sits in one, the other person in the other, and through some sort of sound wave trick, you can hear each other using normal voices even though they appear to be very far away. Once we were there, I discovered the magical trick is proximity, as they're not all that far apart. I was underwhelmed. But they make for a nice picture backdrop anyway...
Sunday was church and babysitting. Linz took Cayden to his first Astro's game and baby Prestyn stayed with us. I've never gotten to take many pictures of her, so I indulged. She is at an adorable age where she's just learned to clap and is quite proud of herself. I love 10 month olds. If I could give birth and have them instantly be this age, I'd have a dozen more.
She also has the prettiest eyelashes. I'm not entirely unconvinced that she isn't hiding an eyelash curler in her crib matress and furiously crimping away during naptime. She moves a ton so it's hard to capture the majesty of her eyelashes, but I gave it a good shot anyway...
I'm off to finish my weekend by cooking turkey spaghetti, playing Webkinz with the girls, watching the Simpsons, and trying to not think about all the wedding stuff I need to be thinking about.
