crafty, jobhunt, randomness, wedding

Busy Day

Today I had an interview with HCR Manorcare up in Toledo. Yes, this is the same place I sent a resume over a month ago; they said that the flu outbreak has kept them from completing the hiring process sooner. Anyway, my boss let me leave 15 minutes early, since I told him I had “an appointment in Toledo,” and that I would make up the time by taking a shorter lunch tomorrow. I ended up not really needing the extra time, as I got there 15 minutes early, anyway, and that was after taking a walk around the block to calm down.

I think the interview went rather well. It seems that their “Knowledge Management” department is in need of one or two more people, especially people with experience in audio and video. Kevin, the person who holds the current solo position, also made sure to emphasize that the position is not a “creative” one, but more writing and organizing thoughts and ideas and publishing actual content. I’m actually quite excited about that, as I feel it’s one of my strong points. Ask Aaron how many grammatical errors I catch on a daily basis (and how frustrated he gets about it).

Kevin, who interviewed me, was quite impressed by my portfolio site — especially where I talk about my “services” and have a Q&A section with layers that pop up and answer the questions. Um… glad ya like it. I only wish I really had services… He also seems like either a early-30’s guy who’s prematurely graying, or a late-30’s guy who still acts really young. I like him so far. Seems like he’d be easy to work with… and he has more problem “finding words” than I do (resulting in a Shatner-esque pause), which makes me feel more confident about my ability to do the job, considering.

When I got home, I got a call from the wedding photographer’s assistant, asking if she could go ahead and bring over our wedding reprints. So, she brought those straight to the house, and I looked them over before she left to make sure everything was in order, which it was. Now we have to buy a dozen 5×7 frames for the reprints we bought as Christmas presents. Thank goodness they arrived in time—no, thank goodness Carol drove to the lab in Findlay and insisted that she was not leaving until she had our prints in hand. 🙂

Then, after that, I made Mom’s Christmas candle (I don’t think she reads my blog, but I’m still not telling what scent it is). I made an extra, since it’s just as easy to make two at a time. I added a little more coloring than I had intended, but that’s what these first several batches are all about: experimenting.

It’s midnight—I need to either shower and get to bed, or get to bed now so I can shower in the morning. I could write more, but I guess I’ll have to save it for tomorrow.

Happy Yule, everyone.

in memoriam

John Lee Walters, 1932-2003

Grandpa and Amy after her graduation - May 6, 2000

Well, I don’t particularly feel like blogging right now… but I don’t feel like doing anything else, either, except maybe zoning out completely or soaking in the tub or something.

I had today off of work, so it was serendipitous that Amy’s grandpa’s funeral was scheduled for today. Like I told her, I wasn’t about to stay at home, kicked back and saying, "Hey, Amy’s miserable right now…" No. She’s my best friend, and he was a great, funny, witty, selfless guy, and I just have too much respect for the both of them not to drive two hours to attend his funeral service. Plus, I knew Amy would need some support — not just because of her grandpa’s sudden passing, but because her mother was coming to the funeral.

Now, normally, having your mother at your grandfather’s funeral wouldn’t be a problem. But when you have a mother like Amy’s mother, it becomes an issue. I could go on about how she’s a self-centered pathological liar,
but I’ll just put it this way: Amy’s grandpa specifically had a clause in his will stating that his daughter (Amy’s mother) was intentionally omitted from the will. While I can appreciate her wanting to mourn her somewhat-estranged father, despite what she’s said about him in the past, I don’t feel that stirring up trouble is appropriate. Especially since he’d said he didn’t want her to even know when he ever died, so she wouldn’t be at the funeral and wouldn’t cause a stink.

And, here’s the kicker: At a family funeral in the past (I don’t recall for whom), Amy’s mother took pictures. As for myself, I find it interesting that death is the one part of life that we as a society don’t feel comfortable documenting in photos, and I’m intrigued by those who go against the mores of society. But Grandpa was frankly disgusted by the picture-taking, and specifically stated in the funeral arrangements (made back in 1986 — how’s that for planning ahead?) that he wanted no photographs taken at his funeral. So what does Amy’s mother do? Brings a damn disposable camera with a flash and takes a freakin’ photo shoot. All her kids there in the funeral home. Him in his casket in the funeral home. The pallbearers bringing the casket to the interment site. The list goes on. That steamed Amy’s grandma sooo much. It felt like one final ‘fuck you’ to Grandpa’s wishes.

Gypsy and BabyBut, anyway. After the interment, Amy invited me to follow them to their house and relax for a while before heading back home. I got to meet their dogs, and her Grandma bought us all KFC, and everybody got to rant about Amy’s mother for a while. 🙂

I still feel like I need some quality Amy-and-Diana time to discuss some philosophical issues, like how she felt as an atheist reading Psalm 69 at the service. Personally, I have known for some time now that I am no longer a Christian (and I feel I can admit that freely here on this website, knowing the few of you who are my audience). I don’t know what I do believe, precisely, especially with the passing of my own grandmother, but I know I don’t believe in the Judeo-Christian form of God. To avoid alienating my readership entirely, I won’t go into detail about how I feel about Christianity, but suffice to say that listening to a funeral service makes me uncomfortable.

Well, then. My train of thought has come to a screeching halt, so maybe it’s time I found something else to do. I’m hungry but I don’t want to eat, tired but I don’t want to sleep, bored but don’t want to read or watch TV.

Poor Amy. She’s got so much to deal with… but that’s a story for another day. Just… poor Amy.

later…
I know what else I was going to say. At both of the open-casket viewings I’ve been to in the past couple of months (not my Memaw’s; that one was closed-casket), I have been really creeped out by seeing a dead person lying there. I’ve been creeped out (and, yes, "creeped out" goes beyond "disturbed") by all the open viewings I’ve been to, from Brother Cothran from church back when I was 12 or 13 up until Grandpa today.
Thankfully, there was a stretch through high school and again from my early college years until Memaw’s death that I hadn’t been to a viewing or a funeral. Anyway, I can appreciate "needing closure" and all that… but at both of the open-casket viewings I’ve been to recently, I went up to "pay my respects," reflected on how almost-lifelike the body looked, and then my sense of humor took over and I said to myself, "Yep, it’s a dead guy," and moved on. Maybe it’s a defense mechanism, triggered by my being disturbed at seeing a deceased body. I don’t know. Probably.

At any rate, I’m glad Memaw’s viewing wasn’t open-casket, because she looked nothing like herself by the time she died. And I got exactly the reaction I’d been hoping for by displaying a photo of her in her late 40’s or early 50’s by the casket: before the service, I heard the woman sitting behind us say, "She was so beautiful…"

When I die, assuming I’m not cremated… don’t look at me, please. I’m sure that, wherever I am, it’ll creep me out.

randomness

Randomness

I have a veritable potpourri of items to mention today, so don’t
expect this entry to have any sort of continuity. 🙂

I’ve been doing deposit verifications at work this week — when
the apartment complex you want to live in asks which bank you hold your accounts
with, and they send in a request to see your average balance for the past
six months, it goes to someone like me. I look up people’s accounts, write
down the requested information, and sign and date the provided form. So,
I’ve been getting a lot of practice signing my married name. Heh.
I’ve pretty much got it down now, though. Learning to forge my mom’s name
really had an impact on my "S" (my mom’s name is Suzanne, and I
swoosh my Schnuth "S" kind of like hers now).

Rama enjoyed her candle, though she didn’t realize at first that
I’d made it for her. I don’t really think it smells like Hazelnut
Eggnog, having made real hazelnut eggnog a couple weeks ago, but
it still smells good. I even took my dye block and crunched it up to sprinkle
fake nutmeg on the top. I took pictures to post on my candle page, when I
get it going on.

I went with most of Lockbox to El Zarape for lunch today, too,
to wish Rama well. Her last day is Friday, after which she and her husband
will be going on vacation to visit friends, then she’ll be taking three grad
classes for her MBA. She’s hoping to be done in two years. —Anyway,
back to El Zarape. I’ll bet you’re thinking I went off my diet. Au contraire!
I ordered the fajitas, with the warm tortillas that come separate, and just
didn’t eat the tortillas or the rice. I’m sure I ate more carbs than I should
have, anyway, with all the veggies, but I didn’t do too bad, considering.

In light of the spread of the flu, I have been washing my hands
at work like an obsessive-compulsive. Well, OK, maybe not that much,
but I’m being much more thorough than usual. I’ve been sneezing and having
those nasty wintry dry boogers up my nose, so I’ve just been waiting to wake
up sick one day… but it hasn’t happened yet. I will continue to wash my
hands and take my vitamins, and hope to stave off the assault of the flu
season.

Even though there’s barely a snowball’s chance that the person
I’m about to reference will ever find my page and read it, I will nonetheless
not mention her name… Don’t worry, it’s nobody you know. OK, now that the
disclaimer’s out of the way: I am so, so glad that Aaron and I have
a healthy relationship. I’m glad we don’t play mind games with each other,
or guilt-trip each other, or threaten to leave each other at the drop of
a hat. I’m glad we don’t have insane mood swings and changes of opinion.
I’m glad we’re similar ages and levels of maturity. I’m glad we didn’t have
children before we were married.

And speaking of children… Jesus H. Tapdancing Christ, why does
everybody at work think I need to have kids RIGHT NOW? I mean, Rama said
to me today, "Let me know when you have a baby." Huh?
It’s gonna be a while, sister, but I’ll let you know… in a few years. It’s
not like we’re actively trying right now, or have plans to conceive in the
near future. I swear, these people are worse than my own mother… and Mom’s
been known to hound us about grandkids, though not as much as Aaron’s grandparents
do. 🙂

And, to wrap this thing up, here’s the weekly (really bad) joke
from the Sky intranet:

Q: What’s worse than raining cats and dogs?

A: Hailing taxis.

randomness

Um… stuff.

As I was desirous to read different and more up-to-date blogs (except for Beth’s, which is always current), I was glad to discover that my friend Jason started a Xanga. Unfortunately, I couldn’t comment or give him "eProps" unless I was signed up. So, I did. (It just points back here, anyway.) Then, I read Beth’s entry for today, which was basically aimed at me, being the only non-LiveJournal member of her usual audience. So, I signed up there, too. (Again, it just points back here.) I figure, maybe it’ll be a sort of link to my real site, and I’ll get more traffic from my LJ and Xanga-owning friends.

It occurred to me at work today that my sloth will be my undoing. Mainly because I’ve been showing up 10 to 15 minutes late for work, and taking a 45-minute lunch to compensate. Pretty soon, my boss is going to notice while he’s doing payroll, and I’m going to hear about it. I need to get to sleep earlier and get up earlier. And actually get up, not hit the snooze then turn it off so I won’t bug Aaron then wake up when I should be going to the car then leave when I should have already been there. Thankfully, work is only a 10-minute drive, even when I catch all the red lights. (If all the planets align, I can make it in seven.)

I also see what people mean when they talk about the last hour of the workday being wasted. I didn’t understand before, when my volume of work determined when I would get to leave. But now, when it doesn’t really matter how much I get done before five, I totally shirk the last half-hour or more.

Rama’s last day of Lockbox is Friday, but since I’m going to be off in Dayton at Amy’s grandpa’s funeral, I won’t be at work to wish her well. So, I’m going to make her a candle to give her as a good-luck-happy-holidays present, and give it to her tomorrow. I’d better get to it.

ruminations

Doesn’t anybody update anymore?

Hey, guys? Um… I don’t know if this blog phenomenon may have
peaked or something, but Beth
is the only one besides me still aggressively updating her blog. I either
need to find more friends with blogs, or beat you all about the head until
you update. Hell, Colvey’s page doesn’t even come up anymore. Maybe I need
to go spelunking for more blogs to check…

My new fragrance oils are wonderful. Hershey’s Chocolate, Drakkar,
and — oops, I can’t tell you that one. Mom might be reading. I’ll tell
you later. Wonderful fragrances all. I now have quite the fragrance arsenal.

After work today, I went out to finish Christmas shopping for
Aaron. Got a couple things, one of which he’s sure to recognize under the
ttree if he gives it a little thought. Ah, well. He should have known he was
getting it, anyway. I feel like we’re a little more even now, present-wise.
🙂 Also headed to Goodwill, hoping that the other two of the diamond-pattern
glass mugs I bought this weekend would still be there. Alas, they were not,
but I got some other glassware instead.

And holy cow, do I have an inventory of glassware now. I’ve got
a total of… *opening cupboard and counting* …19 containers, each holding
from four to six ounces. Four sundae cups (I have big plans for those), four
smoky-colored squarish goblets (intended for amaretto-and-coke), two diamond-pattern
glass cups, two glass jars with lids, one brown lidded jar, and miscellaneous
small votive holders, including a ceramic watering can (obviously being saved
for a floral scent, when I get one).

I’d been having a hankering for hot chocolate, so I found a recipe
on the Atkins Diet Bulletin Board last week. Aaron bought me some unsweetened
powdered cocoa with the groceries on Sunday, and I just made myself some
hot chocolate this evening. This here hot chocolate makes Swiss Miss taste
like a sugar cube sprinkled with cocoa. Never before I started Atkins had
I truly appreciated the less sweet side of chocolate — I hesitate to
say "bitter," since that has such negative connotations, but I
think "darker" is the more apt description. I mean, I liked Hershey’s
Dark Miniatures and all, but I didn’t realize how insanely sweet your standard
chocolate bar really is. I think I now prefer tasting all the spectrum of
flavors, rather than just sweetness. Who knew? [Note: a while later,
the hot chocolate made me a little queasy. Don’t know why. Maybe I’m just
getting sick.]

Hmm, what else was I going to say…?

Oh, yeah. Kris, if you’re reading my blog (as you sometimes do),
your Jack White comments are ticking me off. (Yes, Aaron shared them with
me.) You don’t know the full story, and neither do I. Neither does the
media. All I’ve got to say for now is, if you were really pissed
at someone, would you have a.) the balls to punch him in the face, and/or
b.) the physical strength to bloody his nose and drag him to the ground?
Not me. Although I disapprove of his lack of restraint, I’m impressed with
his… what’s the word I’m looking for? Strength? Sense of purpose? Presence?
Drive? I’m not quite finding it, but I hope you know what I mean. In summary,
I may not agree with what he did, but damn, he did it well.

And, on a lighter note… I’ve been surfing around, looking for
new blogs to hit, old people to catch up with… and found that the typical
high school jock I went to high school with, Scott Marcum, is a now police
officer in my hometown. (Check
him out — he’s the one on the right. Do you see the football player
in him?)

OK, I gotta go to bed now.