Mel!

My old buddy Mel came into town today! I got her e-mail last night, saying that she’d be in BG for an audition, and suggesting that we could do lunch. Absolutely! I ended up taking a half hour longer for lunch than I should have, but it was worth it. I really hope she gets in, and for more selfish reasons than I might like to admit. I miss having girlfriends to hang out with. And Melody in particular, especially when she’s Happy Mel and not Chronically Tired Mel.

In other news, my left shoulder has had a nagging piercing pang for the past two days. It’s not a muscular soreness; it feels like more of a nerve thing, or possibly a muscle tightness or twitching or a joint a little out of place or something. At any rate, it hurts just enough to annoy. (Maybe I should take some Tylenol… nahh.)

And on the house front (as opposed to homefront?), John gave me the final news on the closing today. The amount of money we need to bring to closing is… nada. Not a damn thing. Our driver’s licenses and our smiling faces. Hell, we’re most likely going to get money. Here, have a house and a check. Huh?? But I’m not complaining.

I’ve also been OD-ing on my genealogy of late. It’s amazing what you can piece together from just census records and other easier-to-obtain documents. For instance, check out this brief narrative on my great-great-great grandfather:

On 14 Jan 1869, Samuel’s father James consented to the marriage to Mary Lunette Shupert, due to the fact that his son was under 21. At this point, Mary Lou was already three months pregnant with James. Bill Cook’s genealogy indicates that this marriage took place in Ellerton, Jefferson Township, Montgomery County.

By the summer of 1870, Samuel and Mary had established a home in Jackson Township. Their son James was almost a year old, and Samuel was supporting his new family by working as a farm laborer.

In the 1880 U.S. Census, Samuel’s last name was spelled “SHARITZ” and his occupation was listed as ‘laborer.’ Samuel and Mary were both age 30. Their first five children had been born and were living at home — the oldest, James, was 11, and the youngest, Harvey, was one year old.

In the 1900 U.S. Census, Samuel’s last name was spelled “SHARRITS” and his occupation was listed as ‘farmer.’ He named his birthplace and the birthplace of his parents as Indiana. All the children were still living at home — except Samantha, who had died four years prior at the age of 13. The oldest child, James, was 30. The youngest, Mellie, was twelve.

Also in residence in 1900 was Oscar RIDENOUR, Samuel’s grandson and Ona’s son. Ona had died in 1898.

By 1920, all of the children had moved out. Samuel was still farming at age 69, and his wife Mary, also 69, was still living with him. She would continue to live with him for another five years, until she died of heart disease in the summer of 1925.

Samuel was 80 years old and living alone in Poasttown in the Spring of 1930. He owned his $4000 home, had no radio, and did not work.

In 1938, Samuel developed a nagging case of pneumonia that was destined to persist for years. Samuel died three years later, in 1941, of heart disease and pneumonia. His oldest surviving son, Charles, was the informant on the death certificate, and was apparently caring for Samuel in his later years. The death certificate gives the birthplace of Samuel and both of Samuel’s parents as Miamisburg. Samuel Oliver is buried in Mt. Pleasant Cemetery, Poasttown.

And that’s just the stuff I wrote down, not even all of the records of his kids being born and marrying off and dying and all that. Something about the narrative just strikes me as… poignant, I guess, even though it’s not really much to read if you aren’t related to Samuel.

This is harshing my bouncy mood, yo. But I’m still pretty happy. Ever since seeing Mel today, I’ve been unusually smiley. I don’t mind. I like it. Mel is such a character. *shaking head*

I hope her audition went well…

Murfle

I’m not entirely convinced that anybody gives a crap about what I do day-to-day. I jot down notes at work when I think of things to bring up on my blog later that evening, then sometimes I look at some of those notes and think, “Who gives a fuck?”

I think I’ll just attribute my cynicism to being tired and bored, and I’ll just move on.

Anyone into web comics has probably already discovered Something Positive. As for me, though, I’ve spent the past two evenings reading the S*P archives. About three years’ worth. I found myself wishing for a printed comic after a while โ€” still do, actually, since I’m only caught up to July 2002, I think.

set choo-choo as your buddy icon! murr!My favorite character so far is Choo-Choo Bear, the 25-year-old kitty cat with “a bone disease that makes him extra huggable”โ€”basically, he’s an elastic kitty. Many great gags ensue. So lovable, and so, so cute. So cute, in fact, that I made myself a new IM Buddy Icon out of him. Murfle!

Tomorrow’s the big day, when we head up to Sylvania to see if we can get a home loan. Last time we tried this with Sky Bank, Dan the Mortgage Man strung us along for a week before he told us that I hadn’t worked for Sky long enough. …Come to think of it, we tried to go to Sky for a car loan first, too, and got smacked down; but we got it the second time, when we did our financing through the Kia dealership. Maybe the second try will do it for us with a mortgage loan, too, this time with NOIC. We can only hope. As much as I’m not thrilled about moving again… *looks around at mess* I really have a hankerin’ for a house.

Worked out with my weights some more yesterday. Didn’t work my pecs… or didn’t mean to, anyway. Managed to make the rest of my upper arms, shoulders, and back mildly muscle-sore, while making my pecs oh-so-stiff. Oh, yeah, and there’s a muscle down the outside of my right arm, from around my elbow to the outside of my wrist, that makes typing quite the joy. I hope I didn’t mess with my whatever-I-have-wrong-with-my-wrists.

I’m bored. I need to pack up eBay stuff to send out tomorrow morning. And I have to take another crap.

Phone Fun

Not on time to work today. Ah, well. Took a 45-minute lunch to compensate.

A couple days ago, my boss came in while I was on the phone with
a particularly pissy bank manager. She just kept bitching about how much
there was to do, and how understaffed she was, and how long it took just
to open one account… and all I could do was sit there and take it. I mean,
what else can you say than "I understand completely" and similar
platitudes? Suck it up, lady; you’re not the only one with too much to do
and no time to do it!

Anyway, my boss caught me giving a couple inaccurate facts, and
stuck around until I was done on the phone to straighten me out. While he
was doing that, he made a point of telling me to stick up to these people.
"You’re not here to be a whipping post," he told me. I’m not sure
why, but that really kind of made an impression on me. People have told me
before that I need to be more assertive, aggressive, stand up for myself,
et cetera… but for some reason, hearing it from my all-too-passive boss
just really hit me a certain way. I do need to be more assertive.
And I’m here to help, not take their shit.

I did crack someone up on the phone today, though. I’ve decided
that explaining things in my normal Diana way will be the easiest and most
beneficial, instead of trying to sound all poofy and professional. So, as
I was explaining to an Area Operations Manager how to tell her employees
to clear items off of a report, I heard myself saying, "Now, here’s
the funky part…" She had to stop completely and repeat my phrase to
her subordinate. ๐Ÿ™‚ I’m not sure if I gained or lost credibility through
being myself, but I think I brightened their moment, anyway.

I worked out with my weights yesterday, and I can tell which
places I worked more than others. My pecs feel stiff, like I just got back
from a drumcorps camp. Everything else ranges from not sore at all to only
mildly feeling worked. I think tonight I’m going to work the stuff that’s
not sore: shoulders, triceps, back. And crunches, too.

I’m confused about how I feel about my body right now. In a given
day, I can go from feeling frumpy to feeling fit. Sometimes I can feel the
fat settling about my neck and hips, and other times I can feel like my abs
are getting tighter and my waist is getting smaller. I did get another compliment
at work today, though, from my old boss’s boss โ€” she was proud that I’d
kept my weight off during the holidays. I didn’t have time to tell her about
my two spoons’ worth of sweet potatoes, which is just as well.

Off to watch HGTV for a while…

My world

Aaron and I just had a major thrift purging, and took a carload of stuff to Goodwill. Seriously. A carload. The backseat and trunk were both full of computerage and old clothes. Mac Classic from Sheryl (rescued from an untimely demise in a landfill), scanner, Mac 7100, older Mac whose number I forget, 13″ Apple Monitor (which had to go to Salvation Army instead, since Goodwill doesn’t accept monitors), Genesis consoles and controllers, two bags of clothes, some books, an external Mac modem, etc, etc. We freed up a good amount of room in our bedroom and our computer room. And, hopefully, we racked up a good amount of thrift karma, to counteract our bad luck at finding deals at Goodwill and the flea market lately.

I weighed myself again yesterday, and found that my weight loss has temporarily stagnated at eleven pounds. Which, don’t get me wrong, I’m still grateful for, but I’m hoping to continue to lose weight at a decent clip, so I’m not tempted to drift from the Atkins Way. I do know I’m still burning fat, though, cause the pee-strip tells me so. Just to show how much weight this week and a half of Atkins has helped me lose, let me show you the lovely chart from my Excel weight-tracking worksheet (yes, I know, I’m a dork):

click for larger graph

That’s from mid-November of last year to right now. Note the stretch after the wedding where I didn’t give a shit about how much I weighed, and didn’t even weigh myself at all for a couple months. Also note the dip at the beginning of the chart, and the righteous rebound right after two Christmas dinners in a row. ๐Ÿ™‚

In case anyone cares about my crazy work soap-opera… Andrew decided that one of the temps who was prepping should move to being a processor, and that Rama (who, you will recall, complained about being a temp and having waaay too many hours) should return to prepping. This took effect on Tuesday, and we’re all happy about it. All except Dawn, the other prepping temp, who pretty much hates all of us now, since we were instrumental in getting our old temp canned. But, really, Lorna just didn’t get it, for the most part. I won’t go into it, since you won’t really follow, but suffice to say she was inconsistent and just didn’t get it. So, yeah. All of us are in a great mood except for Dawn, who scowls and gives us all a silent treatment like we haven’t had since Junior High.

Still on the agenda: Loni’s carpal tunnel worker’s comp claim. Oh, yeah, and let’s see what Ruth says when she gets back from vacation and all the shit’s gone down. ๐Ÿ™‚

P.S. – I’m on vacation today and tomorrow. Aaron and I are going to Ann Arbor tomorrow. Whee! Four-day weekend! Outside of my honeymoon, I haven’t had one of those for a long, long time.

Atkins and Aaron and work. (oh my)

Even though my site seems to be down, I’m still going to post an update.

Aaron and I are finishing up Day #3 of the Atkins Diet, and doing surprizingly well. People have told me they felt like crap during the initial induction phase of the diet โ€” I feel great. I feel less lethargic than I did, though I’d stop short of saying I actually feel energetic. I at least feel more alert… though that could have something to do with my attempts to get to bed before midnight this week and last.

I’m enjoying having him home when I get home. It’s like every night is a weekend-night. All except for Monday, when I worked 12 1/2 hours.

At work, we swapped off what clients’ accounts we each process, and our temp, Rama, has apparently hit her breaking point with the stuff I used to run. She’s now complaining to our boss that she should only be working 30-35 hours a week as a temp, and she’s working 40+, and she wants to swap off with one of the other temps, so they can process for awhile and let her prep the work like they do. No dice, as per our meeting last week, but our supervisor, Andrew, said he’ll step in whenever she’s ready to go home. She was not satisfied with that answer, since it seems like he’s just trying to placate her, and not deal with the problem at its source โ€” the problem being that the processors work 45-hour weeks (soon to be longer still), and the preppers are scrambling to barely make their 35 to 40.

We’re all at a snapping point. We’re sincerely hoping that we can all quit at once, having found other jobs, and leave Andrew floundering. We’ll see…