Obsess Much?

I like things just so. If you know me (which you probably do if you're reading this, otherwise how did you find me, you lucky soul?!) you know this already. Most of the time, I don't realize when I'm being a little too crazy unless someone is close enough to me to notice. It's usually the weird looks and raised eyebrows that I get from my parents or brother that let me know when I'm "doing it again."

For instance... I like condiments with just about anything dippable (is that a word? yes.) I generally want at least two options and then I line them up in a row and dip in order, trying not to repeat the same sauce twice... until I get close to the end of the meal and then I tend to stick to the one that I'm enjoying the most. When I eat spaghetti, I cut the noodles in a checkerboard-type pattern. I cut the lines one way, then turn my plate to cut them across the other way. This happened last night and I knew that I was going to get laughed at when I saw my brother watching me turn my plate. I have a method when eating a sandwich and corn on the cob. The method for corn on the cob is mostly to avoid feeling like I have butter and corn all over the sides of my mouth. Okay, maybe with the sandwich (especially PB&J), too. I also don't like it when other people wash my clothes because I don't really like the thought of someone doing it differently than I would. Not that they aren't capable or I don't appreciate the help, it just bugs me. (My mom will both love knowing this and think I need to be committed for it at the same time. She's probably right.)

When I write in my journal, I use the same pen (black Pilot G2, .07mm; .05mm is too thin, .10mm bleeds everywhere) every night until it runs out. I generally have at least one on stand-by because it would drive me insane to know that just one page, out of the 200 or so in my journal, is written in a different kind of ink. Even if it's still black. I rarely go back and read what I've written in my journal (because I end up crying), but I never correct anything or cross anything out. I feel like it would be altering history or something. No matter how stupid or ridiculous or sad or insignificant now, it's a part of me and who I am and might just be worth a laugh some day... in the very far distant future, to someone other than myself.

I just spent the last half hour or so making some minor changes to the layout of my blog, which is what made me think of all of this. I intentionally set up my sidebar at one point in time, but just about every time I make any sort of aesthetic changes, I end up changing the order of the items in. I will rearrange the order, change the heading(s), something. And, inevitably, I think to myself "Who put these like this? It makes no sense!" while I'm making said changes. As if someone else did it! I will also edit the layout of any given post if it doesn't match the basic formatting that I've set up for myself (font, type size, justification. colors vary based on my mood, the topic, and the one I last remember using, which should be avoided.). Blame that one on the day job I used to have.

That's just how off-my-rocker I am. I'm calling it situational Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, self-diagnosed, of course. There is a rule for just about every situation, but they don't necessarily apply to similar situations. And when there isn't a rule, or even the idea of a rule, in place... Heaven help me. I may not end up in the fetal position on the floor, but it's probably written all over my face. Go ahead, point and laugh.

P.S. As I prepared to post this, I was given a handful of Reese's Pieces and I am making sure that I don't eat two of the same color piece back to back. Straight jacket for one? Right here.

Just Keep Going

Lately I've been struggling with my runs. I've been going at 5:30-ish in the morning and, while I love having it out of the way, it's been rough. I began to wonder if I was just way out of my league with the ladies I was running with. I mean, I most likely am. M is a maniac and literally laps me every time we go. If I were able to keep up with her, I'd probably be able to compete in the olympics. But I figure that I should keep going with them because it's easier for me to go if I know someone else is going and maybe one day I won't suck so bad.

My brother and I have gone running a couple of times since he's been home, too. We decided to go tonight, since neither of us had anything going on. When my dad heard this, he suggested that we ride with him to our church building and then just run home. I didn't think it was a terrible idea, but thought it was like eight miles or something and knew Coley wouldn't go for it. When I mapped it out and saw that it was right at five miles, he said no problem.

We hopped out of the truck at the church and started our warm up. As we approached the causeway, I couldn't help but think "What the heck did we just do?" I almost forgot that I was doing this voluntarily. Luckily, I remembered and I just pushed myself. The causeway was a little different than it is before dawn. There were a lot more people to maneuver around and a lot more traffic, too. Those things helped keep me going. Especially the stretch where all the guys are fishing. There was no way that I was going to let them see me stop running.

We stopped at 7-11 for some water, but other than that, we were on the move constantly. We got home before my dad, which was the only real goal. We never would've never heard the end of it had he beat us home. It turns out that we only walked about a mile and a half of the entire five mile run. I was quite proud of myself and it showed me that I do run better later in the day, after having had the chance to eat and drink water throughout the day. When I run in the morning, I don't eat before I go. There a couple of reasons for that. One is that I'm just not hungry (I know, I know. It's shocking that there's ever a time when I'm not hungry.) that soon after waking up, or that early for that matter, and another is that I would have to get up a lot earlier to be able to eat and digest my food, so that I won't get sick while running. It's the price I pay I guess.

We were feeling it before we ever got home, so I'm sure we're going to be sore tomorrow. I already had all kinds of sore muscles from working out on Friday and yesterday, so it'll just continue. While I was training for my half marathon, there were several weeks straight where something hurt. I had almost gotten used to it. When I stopped running or working out for a short period and noticed that nothing hurt, I missed it. Who misses sore muscles?! Crazy people, that's who.

But I'll tell you what. Sore muscles mean things are happening. As Jillian Michaels says, "When it starts to hurt, that's your body getting stronger." And she ain't lying. I am definitely not dropping weight like a Biggest Loser contestant. In fact, I'm not losing weight at all. But what I do have are some sexy arms and toned legs. I'll take those things with sore muscles any day.

Did I mention that my next run is in less than six hours? Maybe I'm becoming a maniac...

Chore Chart

When we were kids, my parents were never really all that strict, but I guess they didn't really have to be. We didn't have set bedtimes that had to be followed. We also didn't have specific chores that were tied to allowances. We would clean our rooms (well, I would clean my room), do the dishes and take out the trash when asked, but there wasn't a rigid schedule.

After have four adults back in the house, each bringing with them their own habits, priorities, and preferences, my mom decided to come up with a chore chart. When she first mentioned it, my brother and I were like "Is she serious?" We didn't think she really was, so we joked about it for a couple of days. Perhaps that's where we went wrong because, with each joke, she was reminded of the idea and would threaten to really make one.

Sunday night, she went through with it. Displayed on our refrigerator is a list of household duties down the left side of the page and the days of the week across the top. Then all of our names are scattered throughout the the middle of the page. I did notice today that on Tuesdays, I have no chores. I happen to be the only member of the family with a "day off," which my dad did not find fair. I think it's fantastic. Or I think it will be down the road anyway.

It just so happens that my mom is out of town, working, during this inaugural week of the blessed Chore Chart. I'm not sure how she's going to police what gets done and what doesn't. And, so far, everyone has done something that wasn't their specific chore, so it's all messed up. For instance, retrieving, sorting and distributing the mail is a chore (yes, we get that much mail), but my brother usually gets it every day. He isn't so good about the sorting and distrubiting, so he has been bringing it inside and I have done the remaining steps of that chore. And I ended up doing the dishes yesterday, even though it was my mom's day. I've also done a lot of laundry lately, just to get it caught up. I suppose the point of it all is that it gets done, some way, some how, so as long as that happens the chart will have served it's purpose.

Here's my beef, though: There's no sticker chart to go along with the chores. How am I to keep track of what I've done and show that I'm doing the most chores so that I get the most privileges?

Strange Things Are Happening To Me

My dad has owned a business for the last 20 years. People have always come in and told him their life stories or spilled their guts about all their problems to him. At first it seemed a little odd, but then became the norm. My dad is a pretty compassionate type person. After all, you have to be more caring than the average Joe to be a funeral director. I guess those sort of people skills shine through his personality, whether he's at the funeral home (which isn't often, for the record) or in his store.

I worked for him for about a year while I was in college. And when I say worked, I mean I was actually on the payroll. He would be out doing other things and I would be left to run the place and, like it or not, I was the hired help. Regular customers thought it was "so nice" that I would work for my dad and that we truly had a little family business. I bristled every time someone suggested that my dad retire and I take over. No thank you.

This go around, things have changed a bit. I'm not on the payroll, but am more earning my keep. I use the term "working" very loosely when I describe what I'm doing while in his store. I think I'm just trying not to get sucked in. And if the people that come in keep getting weirder by the day, I'm going to have to start carrying a net with me.

It's rare that I notice if someone's hitting on me, but a couple of times in the last week it's happened and I have noticed. What's strange is that it always happens when I'm working by myself and no one else is standing in the store. After being asked "Are you Wayne's daughter? Do you work here often?" I want to ask if it's really any of their business and if they think knowing my dad is going to really get them anywhere. In case you were wondering, the answer to both of those questions should be a resounding "No." Yesterday a guy wanted to play 20 questions with me because I was answering his yes or no questions with yeses and noes. I was so glad when I saw one of my dad's regulars walk. The guy was starting to really creep me out and I was tired of him not getting the hint.

Late last week, my brother and I had just opened and a lady came in with some postcards that she wanted to mail. She didn't have street numbers or zip codes, but wanted me to find the zip codes so that she could mail them. I tried my best to explain to her that there can be many zip codes for a given city or even street, but she just wasn't getting it. I was finally able to help her with one of them, after it seemed like she was finally putting the pieces of the puzzle together in her own special way, and she got mad at me. She proceeded to tell me how it wasn't that hard to give her the information and that I wasn't try to help her. With a quarter of a bagel still sitting in front of me, she then said "You're not even doing anything! You're just sitting there! EATING!!!" I looked over at my brother and we exchanged is-this-real-life?! glances. Then she continued, saying "And you're probably getting paid, too!" Too far, lady. One step too far. I informed her that I was not, in fact, being paid to be here. And neither was he. She said "You're not getting paid?! Not many people would do that." I wanted to say "Not many people are as stupid as we are, ma'am," but I had said enough.

What was even funnier was that she walked outside, waited a minute, and then walked back in like she had never been here before. She asked my brother if we sold stamps and then asked if he was from here, making "friendly" conversation. He looked at me as if to say "Is she serious?" and then said "Yes, ma'am. Born and raised." She said "Oh really? I'm not from here." He just said "I could tell." I almost choked on my bagel that I was stilll EATING.

All I've heard for days from my brother is "You're not even doing anything! You're just sitting there! EATING!" Perhaps I should cut back. But if I were to do that, the mailman might start stalking me on facebook again. And by stalk, I mean searching for me, telling me he likes my default picture, messaging me (just once, but isn't that enough?) and then talking about it when he comes to pick up the mail. All, of course, when my dad isn't around. Classy.

sometimes ya gotta lose 'til ya win

It's been a busy couple of weeks for me. I've been meaning to post, but couldn't really come up with anything exciting, that anyone would really want to read, but then felt guilty for letting my public down. So here I am! Just kidding. I really don't take myself that seriously.

My brother got home last Wednesday. It was surreal watching him walk through the airport, almost like it was a dream. We were (and still are) so happy to have him home. Every day we hear a new story about his time in Mexico. Since he was gone for two years, I think we'll be hearing stories for quite some time. It's weird and awesome to hear him speak Spanish so easily. I love it when he answers a question in Spanish without meaning to or says things in Spanish because he can't think of how to say it in English. It just tells me how immersed he was and how seriously he took it. I learn new phrases here and there. So far I can say "How do I look?" and I know what he's saying when he says several popular phrases. At this rate, I'll be fluent in about 80 years.

I still can't seem to figure out how to work the unemployment system, which has been extremely frustrating. I hate that I have even bothered to try collecting because it's caused me many a headache and I'm not gaining anything from it. If anything, I just feel like it's causing me to age quicker. I get the run-around and then get pissed, but still don't get a check. It's really stupid. I need to find a job and then I might just call and tell those unemployment people what they can do with the money that I never got. I need to stop. I can feel my blood pressure rising just thinking about it.

I finally got back to working out this week. I haven't wanted to, but I've forced myself to go to body sculpt and to run this past week. Now I just need to keep it up. I'm having a hard time remembering that I've already paid to run a marathon in six months. That might seem like a long time, but I am no where near ready and fear that I won't get there. Talk about needing to buckle down!

With not being the best of moods the last couple of days, I did realize a thing or two. It has become glaringly obvious that running and serving others is just plain good for me. When I run, I can do nothing but concentrate on the task at hand and how I'm going to get myself back home. Whether I'm telling myself that I need to wait just a little bit longer before taking a break to walk or making sure that I don't roll my ankle and re-injure it, I don't have room to think about anything else that's going on in my life. Not even if I try to! That is comforting and has lasting affects. By the time I make it home, all I can think about is how I just survived a near-death experience. You would think that that would help motivate me to go every day. Maybe someday it will.

Serving others takes you outside yourself, too. It could just be the simple fact that I'm busy and, therefore, don't have time to think about myself. Regardless, it does help and I should remember that more often. Yesterday there was a quick lesson in that. Then, tonday, there were a couple of opportunities to think about someone else and they lasted much longer. Needless to say, I am better for it. I feel a little selfish, even, because I am fairly certain that I benefitted more than the "recipients." Funny how that works.

And I simply can't get enough of the Royal Wedding. I don't forsee getting tired of it anytime soon, either. I just think that they are so cute together and am mesmerized every time I see some sort of story about them on TV. I've seen all the best parts of the wedding festivities at least 10 times each, but I just keep watching. And I am in love with her dress. I have long loved the dress that Kimberly Williams wore in Father of the Bride (the 90's version with Steve Martin, of course), but I think I have just found a new dream dress. Oddly enough, they are sort of similar. Sort of. Do you think she'd let me borrow it? I'd probably have to start dieting and really working out right now!

Paradise

I just spent a week in the Bahamas. Working, mind you, but the scenery could've been worse. There were some really long days and some interesting experiences. These are the ones that were too good not to share. I flew down with F, someone that I've known for several years. He worked as a staff person for my old company, so I've gotten to know him and he's always entertaining. I was glad that he was going with me because he's an experienced TD (Travel or Trip Director) and would be able to guide me on my first real, extended program as a contractor. The other nice thing about traveling with him is that he's a transportation guy, so he really knows the ropes when it comes to air travel and ground transportation. He would make sure that we got there together and in one piece.

We were told to take a taxi from the airport to the hotel, which was just fine. We had to wait an hour to get through immigrations, but when we got outside, we didn't have to wait any time at all for a little Bahamian woman to get us in her van. I saw the back door open on the left side of the van, but started to go around to the right side to get in because F was getting in on the left. They (the driver and F) both stopped me and said I had to get in on the left. It hadn't occurred to me that this van was too old to have back doors on both sides. I thought it was strange, but as I got in and saw the steering wheel on the right side, it started to make sense. These people drive from the right side of the vehicle. And on the left side of the road. It was the strangest thing to me.

So we're driving along and F and the driver are becoming fast friends, discussing where we've come from and what we're doing in the Bahamas and the weather and local secrets that we should check out. You have to know that F has the thickest New York accent and is one of the funniest people to just listen to and watch, so I'm completely entertained and not saying a word. At one point, the conversation turns to the weather and how hot it has already gotten down there. The next thing I know, the taxi driver is saying "Don't tell anyone I did this." and she took off her hair and threw it in the passenger's seat. SHE TOOK HER WIG OFF IN FRONT OF US. She then proceeded to put a bandana on her head, to cover what little hair she did have. I don't know that I could've been any more uncomfortable had she taken her top off.

It sat in the seat next to her long enough that I was able to snap a couple of pictures of it. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to have visual proof to back this story up. It looked like some sort of animal just sitting there. Perhaps it wouldn't have been so unnerving had I realized that she was wearing a wig to begin with. I really thought it was her real hair, or at least a weave. For the record, I would not have taken a picture to document the situation had she removed her top. That would've been left to a photographer for National Geographic.

She prolonged the awkwardness by telling us that it was just too hot to wear that wig. She even went so far as to tell us that her hairdresser would never even give her a weave because she (the hairdresser) knows that our driver would be back two days later begging to have it taken out because it was just too hot. I can't relate to any of that. I have long hair and, if I get hot, I put it in a ponytail. It usually doesn't bother me because it makes me hot, though, it's generally because it's in my way. You're just never going to catch me cutting my hair because it's hot.

The next "experience" that I had happened a few days later. I was given the assignment to man the Dolphin Cay area. I was to make sure that everyone that had signed up to swim with the dolphins arrived for their scheduled appointment, turned in a waiver, and to answer any other questions that they may have. Our group was not the only group at the hotel and cruise ships frequently book these activities for their guests, so I was constantly asking if people were there for us. At one point, a man who I knew wasn't with us asked me if I worked at there. I said no, that I was working with a group in-house and he said to me "That explains the whiteness." Later that day, one of our attendees asked I lived in the Bahamas. I said no, that I like in Florida and she said "Really? And you're still really white." I said to her "Yes, and you're the second person to point that out to me today. Thanks." I wanted to tell her that she should enjoy her nice tan, from baking in the sun for hours on end, now because in 20 years, she's going to look like an aligator and I'll still have great skin. I didn't, though.

There were only 10 staff for almost 1000 attendees, so we worked really long hours most of the days that we were there. In the end, it was worth it because everyone had a really good time and the clients were really happy with the outcome. It was nice to get home last night, too. I'm not sure what made me happier: to see and talk to my parents or to be able to use my phone again. Whether or not I'd go back to that particular hotel, I don't know. Maybe, if I had enough money to be able to enjoy myself without being dead broke when I got home. The lazy river was calling my name, but I never got to answer it. And I would just hope that the slot machines would be a little kinder next time. What? It was just for fun.

I've sure enjoyed the rain, but I'm looking forward to the sun

Every job that I've ever landed has had something in common with the other. On the day of my interview, it poured down rain on my way there and as I was walking in. Maybe it was a way to humble me just before I went in. When you want to make a good impression, being soaking wet with messed up hair and make-up running down your face isn't exactly ideal. Granted, I don't wear enough make-up for it to run down said face (and never plan to, thankyouverymuch) so that isn't an issue, but my hair being a mess bugs me every day of the week. Especially if I need to make an impression.

On Monday, it rained all day. All. day. Tuesday was slightly overcast, but not a drop. Wednesday it threatened to rain all morning and then started to rain just as I got to Jacksonville for my meeting. It rained through the meeting, the entire drive back home, and continued all day yesterday. Today? Sunshine and upper 70's. And I had an interview.

What I found interesting was that my resume was received through the "grapevine." Even though it wasn't my dream job coming to find me, I wasn't about to turn down an opportunity, even if it was just something to tide me over until I land that dream job. With obligations already on the calendar, I couldn't interview yesterday, which was the first option given. (Curse you, unemployment hoops that must be jumped through!) An appointment today was the best that could be done. As I drove over, I even thought about the fact that it stormed all day yesterday and there was now not a cloud in the sky.

When faced with the task of having to interview for a new job, I decided that I will be going about this process differently than I ever have, and maybe than I really should. I decided to go into with the love-it-or-leave-it mindset. While I will be sure to let any- and everyone know that I am capable, I'm going to just be honest. I have been and plan on continuing to be upfront about my skillset and expectations. I don't see the sense in trying to build myself up as something that I may not necessarily be. I've seen too many times where people say "Oh, yes! I can do anything you want me to!" and then they start and are far less than what they said they were. I don't want to be that girl. A wise guy that I know once said "Under promise, over deliver." That made perfect sense to me and is the way I'm going. Hopefully desperation doesn't force me to jump that ship!

Late this afternoon, I got a call back from the company. I was surprised to be hearing from them so soon. Who gets a call back the same day? Anyway... the news wasn't day-making. They said that they enjoyed meeting with me, appreciated me coming in, but that they filled the position. Put nicely, "You're not hired." I said thank you for taking the time to meet with me and hung up before the conversation got awkward.

I'm really not bummed at all. The rain thing crossed my mind as I was driving there, so I was sort of thinking it wasn't going to happen. Then, as we were talking, I was thinking about what I might say if I were offered the position and didn't want to take it. I wasn't trying to be negative about the situation at all, but maybe those were little clues that this wasn't going to be my big break. So the "vacation" continues. If you can call what I'm doing vacationing. It would be more of a vacation if I'd gone to the beach this afternoon, since it was gorgeous in Central Florida today. My fingers are crossed that we get a few days like this after April 20. Which, for the record, is only 19 days away.