East Coasting It

This may sound like a familiar sentence: in a couple of weeks I will be taking a red eye flight to the east coast for a family wedding. It may also sound like I do not learn my lessons. It is all true. One thing you need to understand is that for someone is so sarcastic, bitter, and exhausted, I am also surprisingly optimistic in nature. So, once again, thinking the red eye flight will be fine and not lead to a total and utter mental breakdown, I book it.

So, sleep is for the weak. And this way I get to spend some of the first day of my vacation with my family, instead of losing it to the airplane flight and time change. And if I'm grumpy when they pick me up and demand they get me coffee before talking to me, that's fine, I am there by birthright and there is not a damn thing they can do about it. Reading that last sentence and realizing how true it is going to turn out to be, I'm surprised they keep inviting me to these events. Perhaps they think this trip, I won't be grumpy and moody and cry for no reason. Maybe the misplaced optimism is genetic.


Your Pet is My Favorite, the Rest I'm Forced to Watch

Today, I am in charge of three dogs, five cats and a fish. That is a lot of f-ing paws and a gill or two. Needless to say, they are trying to break me. I go to three homes (well, one is mine, so maybe I go to two) to see them all. Everyone gets petted and gets treats and gets litter box cleaned or let outside in the yard. No one feels like that is remotely enough. Everyone wants a piece of me.

Anxious to take advantage of this good weather, that has led to this drought, I packed up the small dogs and went to the small dog park. The intention is to get them to play well with others, the result is they play with each other.

Two tiny, bad-ass dogs check out the dog park

And promply choose to play only with each other



This week, the clouds cleared and the sun touched my pale, pale skin once again. My first year at the HR Farm is coming to a close and I feel like I had to survive a trail by fire the last two months to get to this anniversary. But, let's not dwell on the stressful bits. Let's talk about the good things. I found myself once again reaching out to customers, just to say hi and check in with them. I rearranged the little piles of papers on my desks to better, more organized little piles. A pencil got sharpened. Three days in a row, I woke up on time and looked at my clothes before hurriedly putting them on.

In other news, Clinton and Obama have worked through things. Along those lines, when I become a presidential candidate, I insist on being called by my last name just like the boys. You do not get to act overly familiar with me because of my gender, you do not get to spend time writing about my pant suits, and you can get me a cup of coffee while you are up and rub my feet when you are done with that.

"It's Janet. Ms. Jackson if you're nasty" You know you're nasty, so stop calling me Rachel.