On Bad Coffee

So here we are again, Monday morning. Some things are different. My nails are painted for the first time in... Of COURSE they're already scratched up. My attempt at curly-scrunching my hair seems to have suffered from the quick exit this morning. Not enough time to make it work. Ahh, Mondays.

Then there's the same. Having to re-convince myself to accomplish something. Doing little bits of nothing-in-particular. Feeling those preceding pains in my neck and head...

My gut-reaction to head-pain? MAKE COFFEE!! Especially as it's Monday morning. Except I was foolishly drawn in by the specialty coffee packet I'd forgotten about stashing in the coffee drawer (yes, we have a big ole drawer dedicated to hot drinks - tea and cocoa included in small amounts). I can smell it down the hall, brewing, like bits of OLD and CHEAP. Craaaaaappp. The moment of truth is arriving. My trusty mug and I will be back in a moment to face the music....

So, as we (the mug and I) approached the conference room we (or at least I) noticed the layers of smell. A rather floral overtone grabbed my attention. Oi. But bravely I dumped sugar into my mug, half-and-half, and finally, poured the perfume-y stuff into my sacred mug. At least, it was sacred - until it met this stuff. And while poetics would dictate that I share the first taste with you, reality demands that I try it while I'm near the sugar and cream, in case the addition of either would enhance my experience.

So... it was not as bad as I was afraid it would be. But I DON'T think this should count as my caffeine points for the day, especially since I'm hardly going to drink this stuff. It tastes just like it smells. Maybe I'm just getting to be a great explainer, but to me it is exactly what I said. Perfumey, with sweet hints. Not really tasting too much like coffee or chocolate (as the packet claimed). It's a light roast, for sure. And I don't think it'll fix my head. Oh well, ignoring head pain is my specialty. I wonder if I could get a job doing that??

Status Update

You know on "social networking sites" like Facebook and Myspace how you can set your status?

Jillbe is...

With only one blank, there isn't room for everything.

Jillbe is...
spending the weekend with Omi
hoping the still-pink koolaid stain comes out of the carpet (at least it's not red, anymore)
happy she did some intensive cleaning this morning
frustrated with Netflix, again (why can't shipping times be consistent?)
wondering what to wear tomorrow
wishful that her sewing machine will be fixed with the new part so she can get back to work on Pene's quilt
reluctant to admit that she's had the new part for over a week but has been too preoccupied to test it out
pondering whether her stupid NTI is worth it (and why does she have top-and-bottom when most people have just one?)
trying to remember the "proper" way to wear a Claddagh ring off the top of her head (she was right)
imagining that when she is finally a parent, her daughter will have a bit of each of the girls in her.

How are you?

Flashback

When I was a kid, my best friend used to publicly mock me for "crying too much". Nice, ehh? We're not so chummy anymore, but we are related, so it's probably more suitable for her to mock me, or comment on my weight or singleness.

You see, I wasn't born with many socialization skills and as a child my coping skills were not, as you might say, "socially acceptable". My primary reaction to anything stressful, frustrating, angering, insulting, or otherwise any kind of not-so-positive was to tear up. I didn't want to. I wasn't trying to manipulate. It wasn't at all intentional, and I tried to hide it (which probably didn't help me overcome shyness). But my friend would say, "oh, stop being a cry-baby", in front of large crowds of people. When we were alone she would be comforting and sympathetic, but with an audience I was a whiney cryer.

Over time I grew out of the crying thing, for the most part. When I get especially tired or strained I might end up crying. One of the things I hate MOST in the world is being misunderstood, which grows into frustration, and aside from truly sad things (like Early-Morning Television or Hallmark Commercials), that is the primary reason you'll find me crying.

Yesterday was NOT a very good day. It was remarkably challenging. Frustrations kept piling up. Then the final fuse. The woman at work who has been dragging me along for 2 months on something that should have been VERY simple called. She was unkind. I was testy. She was more-firmly unkind and un-listening to my re-stated explanations, and my voice got wavery. I think she heard that, so she toned down her voice but remained un-listening and uncooperative. Our voices did not raise (well, mine did get a little high-pitched as I tried to control and not let her hear me get upset). We didn't curse each other out (though we did each suggest unkind things about the other in thinly-veiled statements). But we did go "round and round" for a while.

I ended up crying for a while (after we hung up), and writing the first draft of this post. My Other Boss caught up with me and realized I needed assistance and intervened. He spent a fair amount of energy this morning trying to assure me that I was "heard" and right and straightforward, and all those other good things you want to be when negotiating. He's a pretty good guy, you know?

But even more important was Secre-Sarah's solution. After I dried up a bit we left work a few minutes early and went for some ice cream. We sat outside and talked about life, about the frustrations of work, and just sat. It was good. It's nice to find different people even when you, yourself aren't so different sometimes.

I can't tell you I've been tear-free since the ice cream. I mean, I just finished watching P.S. I Love You. But when I was a wee girl I didn't cry at sad movies (only misunderstandings, or feeling left out). So I guess yesterday is where the flashback ends, and now is the moment I know my life will be completely different.

Or maybe I stole that line from a movie.

Don't Put All Your Chocolates in One Box...

...especially if they're honey caramels from French Broad Chocolates. And especially don't bring that box to your office. You might not be able to restrain yourself to just one, one life-altering, tongue-melting, would-eat-after-anyone for just-one-tiny-bite piece of honey-caramel-chocolatey melt-in-your-mouth goodness.

I only bought 4, out of self-restraint, but MAN are these things good. So GOOD. I change my answer. Forget bringing me Tulip Poplar Flowers. Forget the Blue Kitchenaid Mixer for an engagement offeRING (ha ha). Put a ring (still no diamonds, but a pearl will do) in a box of these babies, and just hope that I see the ring before I eat it in a chocolate-caramel induced stupor.

Briefly About NYC

So, I realize I haven't told you much of anything about the NYC trip (except that I love the people I went with, and we had a good time). That's because I'm lazy. And because I'm a perfectionist. So I want to do it right. My computer isn't always accommodating in those wishes.

Anyway. My head hurts. It's doing better than it was, but I felt just compelled to say a little something tonight, for some reason. But since my head hurts, I'm just going to throw some [sorry, not sized down] photos your way, and save the "juicy" details and necessary explanations for later.

Sitting in Central Park

Hanging out at the Cloisters Garden

Blues-Clues, reading on a bench in the Cloisters Garden, if you can believe it.

(p.s. in case you didn't notice, he's not wearing shoes!! In public!!!)


Hanging out at Ellis Island
(are you sensing a theme to what made our trip great?)
(p.s. One explanation. That's Dr. Psychology sketching Mr. Ponytail sketching Mr. Hat)

I think you'll recognize this Lady. I just liked this angle.

So, that's it for now. Your internet browser thanks me. More later.

It's All About Perspective

My week has been filled with all kinds of good distractions. These are things that keep me young, and that make me question my "old" ways of looking at the world.

One day, Ela and Jiill came to work with me, and their refreshing perspectives reminded me not to take myself too seriously, and to reconsider other ways of looking at things.

For example, there is a big tree outside my building that just begs to be climbed. Ela and Jiill agreed.

Up a Tree

Out on a Limb

Then, while thinking about how other people might see the world, they got a little closer to the ground. I would have used the picture with better light, but it was a little less "G", ahem Jiill.

Down Low

On our way to Pal's (and then the V.A. where we fed squirrels, climbed more trees, and played Hide-and-Seek), we stopped at a new fixture on my campus. A water feature that has a 1-ton marble globe you can turn all around.

Turning the World on its Head

Sittin' on Top of the World

Last night I got to play with three of my friends' kids. We built a tent.

Under Cover

Secret Place

We made movies.

We did the chicken dance.

All of it delightful. It's good to feel young. While the "adults" were talking about boring things like exercise, religion, school, and other things, K-lo, Morgy, and Jing let me focus on them, and they shared lots of hugs.

Let's hope that tonight's trip to Ashevegas with Ela and Mander, and tomorrow's brunch with Kayla and the fabric store continue my fun. Who needs PAPA Fest when you live in a slice of heaven?

Sit Down, You Educated Hippie!!

As I arrived at the strategic planning meeting this afternoon, 10 minutes late and smelling of fresh air (and perhaps a little perspiration - it's a mostly-sunny walk), sporting the outfit I made this weekend, with my Farmaid bag slung over my shoulder, I felt the looks.

The Educated Do-Gooder said, "Oh, Miss Jillbe's here!"
while Assistant-Lady - who is educated but quite reserved (and who drove her Toyota Corolla half the distance I walked to get to the meeting on our campus) gave me the silent-sighed once-over she uses even when I'm in a business suit,
and Mrs. In-Charge who is dutifully middle-class gave my bag a serious raised-eyebrow'd scoff.
*and my Other Boss didn't even bat an eyelash when I leaned back in my chair and propped my knees against the table, but he's used to me.

This is life in my job. I relish my hippie-ness, wear it as a badge sometimes, cover it up at others. This is a place where it is okay to wear Chacos (hiking sandals) with a suit. FYI - I don't do that. If I'm wearing a suit, there's a reason to wear dress shoes, too.
*In case you didn't notice above, it's also acceptable to arrive casually late - good thing since I nearly forgot about the meeting.

Anyway, during the meeting I volunteered to write up a summary of the health resources (or rather, lack of) to African Americans in Northeast Tennessee. The Reverend commented, "well of course she offered - Miss Jillbe's probably got a dissertation on it somewhere already!" I like being thought of as thoughtful and an advocate for the African American community (as opposed to brainy and condescending). And you might not have caught it in the reading, as intonation tends to not carry well in typing, but my friends in this meeting said it in a respectful, caring way. Like they knew I cared about and respected them.

So, I guess that's not too much to say, but I just felt like sharing a sliver of my world.