Today was my last day in the office until 2008. That sounds awesome, except that I have already logged onto remote desktop and I've only been home for 4 hours. Somehow, I think this will continue throughout "vacation." Alas.
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This year, I received three Christmas ornaments. One was a party favor, so it doesn't really count. The other two... need homes. I found a home for one, I think. I need a home for the other one. Because my home is not a home for ornaments.
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I got my kicker check this week. For those of you not from Oregon, the kicker is "extra" tax money that clearly can't be spent on worthwhile things like schools or safety or the much-needed renovations to the capitol building. And said money is then kicked back to the tax payer.
I had grand plans for my kicker check. Some was going to charity. Some was going to a new purse (I can only be so generous sometimes). And then perhaps some would go into my savings account.
Except then I went to the dentist. And half of my kicker check was gone.
And today I took my car in for yearly service. And there went the rest of my check. And, oh, yes, the equivalent of a second kicker check as well.
It is good that I've already made all of my year-end donations, which means that the new purse is going to have to be shelved because of my now kicker-less bank account.
That is, unless anyone wants to buy me a new purse. The Tod's outlet in Palm Springs is very reasonable...
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There is currently an ad on my Vox for "Make your own Harajuku doll." I am terrified.
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I leave for Palm Springs on Sunday. I have not packed. Or cleaned. Or finished shopping. Or done any of the other many things I have to do before leaving town to feel okay about running away for a week. Tomorrow will be a very busy day. Just when I thought I might be able to nap...
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Getting punchy. Going to clean the bathroom and go to bed. You know you're jealous.
Dear Reader,
Are you there, Reader? It's me, Nicole. Reader, my life, I don't know what happened to it. Every week day, I get up at 6 a.m. I arrive at my office between 7:45 and 8:15 and then I do I don't know what until 5:30 or 6 at night. Whatever it is that I'm doing must be good, because I've only gotten chewed out once and, really, that was nothing compared to chewings-out at previous employers and it was my boss's fault and she apologized afterwards, so it's all good. Sometimes I go downstairs to the little sandwich place and the girls there already know my name. Sometimes I bring my lunch and the guys at QFC say, "Sushi for lunch tomorrow?" Sometimes I get insane phone calls from people who must have sad lives because they have nothing better to do than complain to me about Christmas trees or chocolate sales or posters. I draft a lot of documents that go into a vortex and eventually come back three weeks later, with either no edits or so many edits, the purpose of the original document is moot.
After work, I go down to the gym and exercise for somewhere between 45 minutes and an hour. I talk to the administrative assistant from the 15th floor while we change for the gym. While I work out, I read between one and three magazines, depending on how many articles are of interest. I have learned a lot about Mitt Romney, healthy Thanksgiving meals and why I hate Mike Huckabee (hint: it's because he's batshit crazy).
Once I am done working out, go home and eat something that Joe made me or something left over from the last time Joe cooked or something that I throw together from the pantry. Usually, there are a lot of vegetables involved, but sometimes it's filled with lots of things that I shouldn't eat, but I pretend it's okay because I just worked out for an hour. On the nights I don't work out, it's usually because I have a committee meeting or something else distracting after work.
I get home between 7 and 7:30. I inhale dinner, check Perezhilton, watch House Hunters, pester Joe (in person or via phone) and go to bed.
Weekends are slightly better, but involve a lot of sleeping and running errands that I can't do during the week. Last weekend, I escaped it all and went to Salem to hang out with the Riches and gave Joe his fix of tree decorating. I have therefore been behind all week this week, since all of my errands were ignored. This weekend I'll be collecting toys for work and then shopping for more toys for work. It sounds fun, and it is, but it gives me yet another reason to not shop for anyone else and, lo and behold, it's the middle of December and I've bought half of Joe's present and nothing for anyone else.
Reader, I feel like perhaps one day things will calm down and it won't be so crazy. But what if it doesn't? How do people have kids? Or serve on multiple boards and committees and actually attend meetings? Or work out every day? Do those people not sleep? Because right now, that is the only thing I can cut out unless I cut out the scant couple of hours I have on the weekend to actually sit in the same room as my boyfriend and watch football and make dinner together. I mean, I could cut out the House Hunters, but I watch that at 10:30 at night, so there's not a lot of other things that I can do then aside from perhaps reading or darning socks.
So, Reader, I'm sorry if I've been ignoring you. I fear it will not get better any time soon. This weekend, after I do all the toy stuff, I have alumni interviews for Brandeis and work for some of the committees I'm on and paying bills and then it will be next week and then I am going to the desert for a week. And then it will be 2008 and I will resolve to sleep more and lose weight and work more effectively so I am not tied to my desk. Reader, we can hope.
Happy belated Chanukah and Merry early Christmas!
I am thankful for all kinds of things this year. Despite my complaints about them, I have a great family. And a fabulous boyfriend and awesome friends. And a house and a job and enough food to eat (sometimes too much - see previous entry) and the ability to give to lots of different causes for people who need all the things that I have. I'm thankful for my tiny adorable niece and my dog and, despite all the weirdness, a really good life. I don't know how I ended up so lucky, but I'm really thankful for that luck.
On a more shallow note, I'm happy about all the little things. I'm thankful for Diane Sawyer, because she is fabulous. I'm thankful for HGTV, because it offers me hours of entertainment and things like that woman last week who pronounced hammock as "haMMOCK." I'm thankful for the 2 hour cheesecake I made last night (for real, it took two hours to bake - crazy recipe) finally being done. I'm thankful for Scrabulous.
Have a happy Thanksgiving. Don't fall asleep in the turkey!
Yes, it's true. I am owning up to it. In the two months, I have slacked off and pretended like the treadmill isn't just five minutes from my bed. And then I quit my job. And then I started a new job and there was a lot of stress eating. And then it was Halloween and there was a lot of candy. And then I tried to put on my nice new black pants that I bought the weekend after said new job made me an offer. And those pants? They were tight.
This was not a good sign.
I steeled myself and got on the scale the other morning. The scale thought for a minute and displayed its digital numbers. I haven't seen numbers that large since this time of year in 2004. That is not a good sign.
I still weigh less than I did in college. A lot less. But I weigh more than I did when Joe and I started dating. Now, that's okay since when we started dating, I was getting over my mysterious serial vomiting illness that I will forever blame on the combination of Reed and the guy I was dating that summer. But I weigh enough more that I am also unhappy.
The other day, I turned in my forms to sign up for the gym at work. It'll cost me $15 a month and I have access to everything - the gym, classes, a fitness consultant, etc. I worked out that same night. I ran. I didn't run as much or as fast as I used to, but I ran all the same.
Sweet Jesus, I hurt really fucking bad after that. I went to bed at 9pm that night.
I know that the holiday season is perhaps the worst time of year to start the diet and exercise game, but I can feel my body being unhappy with me. It's not just that my new pants were tight, though that did in fact suck a lot. I'm tired all the time. I'm sluggish. I don't feel good when I eat crap and I haven't been feeling good for a while. I'm constantly checking every angle in the mirror and instead of saying, "Hey, pretty hot," I'm saying, "Well... that'll do."
I feel like everything has been in flux for the last month and this will finally help me regain some normalcy. I've settled into the new job and am starting to get a real routine. The construction on my apartment is finally done and I can cook and clean like a normal person again. For someone who thrives on schedules and routines, having everything being thrown off for the last two months has totally fucked me up. But it's time to get over it.
I worked out this morning. I'm packing a bag of workout stuff to keep under my desk, so it glares at me during the day and reminds me that just when I think it's time to go home, it's really time to start busting my ass.
Now, if only the gym could get better magazines. Perhaps I can persuade them to subscribe to InStyle.
In college, I (and many of my friends) used to write letters and haikus to procrastinate during finals. Or to goof off in class. Or to amuse ourselves because - people don't tell you this - sometimes college is boring. We probably stole this idea from Pamie, but I'm sure she stole it from someone, too. I mean, how many people have original ideas?
Lord knows I don't.
Anyway, here are the letters that I wanted to write in the last week.
Dear New Job,
You are kind of awesome, except when you suck. When do you suck? When I have to be at the office at 5:30. In the morning. Yes, 5:30am. That is when you suck. The other times that you suck is when you don't let me eat lunch until after 3pm, you don't let me leave the office until I've logged 10 hours, when you give me no time to play Scrabulous during the day, and you deny me nice towels in the kitchen. On the other hand, you provide me with an unlimited supply of fifty cent sodas and an ice machine. And a not evil (yet?) boss.
So I guess you're okay.
Thanks for not sucking.
Love,
Nicole
PS: Can you please speed up moving my office? I can't install a white board until I move and I really miss my lovely dry erase pens.
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Dear Old Job,
For real, it's been over two weeks. Please stop sucking. Please stop removing things from my personnel file and pretending I didn't totally rock your socks off. Please just move on. I have. Have you heard about my new job and how it doesn't suck?
Also, please stop fucking with Kristen. MLD is gonna get you!
No Love,
One of the Many Who Have Quit In the Last Month
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Loving Boyfriend,
Next time you are attacked at the dog park, we are taking you to get stitches. Looking at that scab is totally sicking me out.
XOXO
Me
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Dear Colorado Rockies,
Suck it. No one likes you. You and your stupid thin air are nothing compared to the Green Monster. Also? No one on your team is any fun. Also? Your fans blow. They are just sitting there, being fat and infrequently - very infrequently, if you know what I mean - cheering when you decide not to completely blow. Just surrender so the Sox can have their parade and Hayden can tell me all about it.
With Contempt,
Nicole
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Dear Oldest Sister,
An entire box of JCrew cashmere sweaters? Best day ever! Thanks for the hand-me-downs!
Colie
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To Whom It May Concern,
This letter is in regard to the fact that my apartment has now been under construction for over one month. I understand that residing a building - and replacing the windows, installing air conditioning and installing all new doors - can take a long time and appreciate the hard work that you and your crew of very hard working (most likely) illegal immigrants are putting into the whole situation.
But here's the thing: while my apartment is under construction, all of my furniture must be moved at last 4 feet from each and every window. This means that all of my furniture is basically piled in the middle of my apartment, making it very difficult to live here, but even harder to clean. And there's a lot of dust from all of your sheet rock fun and I can't clean and do you know what that is doing to me?
It's really not okay.
Please speed it up. I can tell you are almost done. I will even leave cookies for the crew if you'd like.
Thank you.
Resident of (number redacted)
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Guy at Whole Foods,
No, I am not Israeli. No, I do not speak Hebrew. No, I do not want you to teach me Hebrew. I just want that yummy mix of butternut squash and yams that I asked for.
Thank you.
Your Afternoon Customer
PS: You did kind of make my day, though. Thanks for hitting on me.
____________
And now I will leave you with a haiku:
My, you are so kind;
Attentive, caress, rub, smile.
Alterations Guy.
It's freedom weekend! Wheeeeee!!!
Here are a couple of things that happened in the last two weeks:
- Joe and I celebrated our two year anniversary.
- My boss gave notice.
- They started construction on my apartment complex.
- I accepted a new job.
- I gave notice.
- I decided to grow my hair out.
- I went shopping for a lot of new clothes.
- I peed in a cup.
- Joe and I went on our anniversary trip.
- I got food poisioning from a scallop.
- I ate a lot of saltines.
- I decided that $166 a month isn't that much for parking downtown.
- I won tickets to Michael Ian Black and Michael Showalter.
And here are some things that are happening in the next two weeks:
- Kelley and I are hosting Rachael's bachelorette party.
- My last day at work.
- Joe and I are going to Rachael's wedding.
- I'm finally getting that pedicure.
- My first day at my new job.
- I'm planning a breakfast event for 20 people.
I haven't updated because things are crazy. That is the long and short of it. Things, they are crazy. Things have been crazy since, like, the second week in August and have only gotten crazier since then. Like, cuckoo bananas, coco loco crazy and I can't talk about it, but thanks to everyone who listens to me as I try to verbally process. And by that, I mean bitch and moan. But "verbally process" sounds so much more positive and healthy.
Speaking of healthy, today I "raced" for a cure. I actually just walked (slowly for a lot of it - the new course is very curvy) with Kelley around Portland after paying $35 for a t-shirt and some tiny power bars. Oh, and a banana. Of course, that money actually went towards breast cancer research so I think that's great and the tiny power bars are just so cute! Plus, bananas are delicious.
I figured racing for the cure was a nice way to start the new year. That's right, it's the year 5,768 by the Jewish calendar, starting last week. Yesterday was Yom Kippur, and I had an incredibly easy and calm fast, which was nice. I also managed not to be sick on Rosh Hashanah or Yom Kippur this year, which might be a first for this decade. But, yes, I figured with the new year and the atonement and everything else that racing for the cure was a nice way to start things out. That and cleaning my house. 5,768 is the year of Nicole's cleanest house ever!
As usual, I really liked Yom Kippur. It's always nice to take a day to reflect on the past year and set some goals for the next year. As usual, being more patient and less snippy is always a goal, but I've also tried to adopt a couple of mantras to help me through each day. My three current favorites are:
"No more drama."
"I can't help when other people suck."
"I cannot control how I am perceived. I can only control how I am presented."
That last one is from Tim Gunn and I kind of love it. It's applicable in so many ways!
On that positive note, recent fun and exciting things include the Justin Timberlake concert (MLD was there!), my adorable niece Lucy coming to visit (and bringing along her mom and dad, who are also fun), Joe coming back from vacation and visiting the new Trader Joe's by mom and dad's house. You see how my life is fairly mundane? No more drama!
Ahem.
Anyway. Now I have to got to the store to buy many delicious things for dinner this evening. And then I will nap while Joe cooks. People. This is the life!
Happy 5,768!
I emerged victorious from my event last week. Huzzah! Tons of people showed up, the food and booze flowed freely, the (secret) plan for the band to march through the Museum worked out and we ended up making more money than I thought. In this way, it was magical. In the way that we were totally short-staffed during set up, it was kind of a nightmare and I wanted to die, but since it was a first time event and it totally ended up being a perfect storm of people bailing, there is only so much that could be done save for thanking everyone a lot after all was said and done.
So on Thursday, I was at work for a little over 16 hours. After the event, Rachel and I went for a drink and marveled at all of the people who don't have jobs and are wasted on Thursday nights. And then we came home and marveled at how our feet felt so, so swollen. And then we went to bed.
Because, you see, four hours after that I was awake again. Why? To take Joe to the airport. Or, rather, to drive out to Hillsboro (the direct opposite direction of the airport), pick up Joe's brother, then drive to the airport. And then I drove home, showered and went back to work. There was much cleaning and organizing and calling of auction winners and many other things to do, and when I finally left on Friday afternoon, I had worked for 23 hours over the last two days and only slept for four. I had that special kind of headache that only sleep deprivation can give you. And boy, that was special.
I slept a lot - magical! - and then yesterday was all about Amanda's birthday. This included a lot of shopping and then a lot of drinking and a lot of hubba hubba mac'n'cheese made by her wonderful brother Eric who is the owner/chef/hubba hubba at Victory, this fabulous wine bar on Division. And did I mention the drinking? There was a lot of drinking. And then there was more drinking. And now I am so, so tired.
But, you know, I survived! The event rocked! Time to nap! Whoo!
To add to everything I wrote yesterday:
Because my life is not crazy enough and I am not fragile and on edge, my closet exploded. Or, rather, imploded. Or collapsed. Or, well, at 1:10 this morning, a giant crashing sound woke me up and scared the crap out of me. I couldn't figure out what happened until this morning when I went to get a pair of underwear and the contents of my closet all started surging towards me, trying to break out of the doors. It wasn't until I got home from work that I realized that the whole bar in my closet came down along with every sweater, dress, pair of pants and about half the shoes I own. Everywhere.
Thankfully, I have the best dad ever and he came over to talk me down and fix everything. Which took way less time than it took to take everything out of my closet and then rehang it. Oy.
Moral of the story: When it rains, it shit storms.
