So, I got my review from my boss at the Y, where I teach Zumba.

Hee!

I won't go into details--because, really, do you care?--but let's just say there were words used that I never hear in reviews for my other job. Words like "outstanding". And "excellent".

I almost cried. But um, I think that would have scared my boss.

See, I am so excited to teach Zumba--not that I need to tell you that, if you've been reading for any time at all--that I usually forget that it's my job, that it's "work", which, really, is a pretty good way to work, right? And when I stop to think about it, and realize that I finally have a job that:

1. I'm good at
2. I love
3. I never want to stop doing
4. Actually pays me

I can't help but get all misty-eyed. I mean, I've had lots of things that met one or maybe two of those requirements.

There was the time I wrote for the school paper, but that didn't pay.

There was the two seasons of working at the rennaisance faire. I played a pirate. It fulfilled numbers 2 and 3, anyway, but I don't know how good I really was--I was too busy playing around (and, um, flirting with cute rennie boys) to interact much with the patrons--and it sure didn't pay; I just did it for the fun.

I miss that job!

There have been all the crappy little jobs I've had since high school, which pay OK--and the crappy little job I have now that pays really quite well--but which totally suck and, for my current job, anyway, which I am not even any good at. I'm late all the time, I can't push a credit card application on someone to save my life, and I really don't give a flying crap about why you're returning it, just shut up and let me give you your money back already.

There was the brief stint as a PR peon, but every time a press contact rebuffed my advances I'd take it personally and have to take a break outside to collect myself. Too bad; there were other parts of the job that were most excellent, including my lovely, gracious boss and all the event planning stuff, which I totally have to delve into one day...

So anyway...here I am, completely stumbling into this Zumba instructor gig via a desperate attempt to shrink my ginormous...assets...and look!

I'm good!

People come to my classes!

We have fun!

I get asked to do parties!

I forget I'm working! That's certainly never happened before!

I'm--dare I say it, and risk sounding seriously stuck up--sought after!

I still can't believe it.

I knew back from the very first Zumba class I took that this would be a blessing. I just never knew how huge a blessing it would be. To have something in which I am competent...I can't even get into how big that is to me. I struggle a lot with being "just" a mom, which sucks--I want to be content because being a mom is awesome, a job in itself. I love being a mom, which is a large part of why I don't have a "real" job and why I was able to get into teaching in the first place--but having Zumba allows me to be a mom and still quiet that part of me that needs to feel important and smart and good at something.

'Cuz let's face it. Love it or not, I'm not so good at the mom thing. If you don't believe me, I'll tell you what I said just earlier today, when my husband told me there was a case of head lice reported at one of the Y's childwatch rooms:

"That's OK--lice like clean heads, so our kids should be all set." Which, incidentally, is just about the same thing I said when I found out that allergies are more prevalent in children living in very clean homes.

Do you ever get to feeling like you would like to just tell the entire world to go shove it?!

I get like that sometimes.

I need a vacation.

I need for this school year to be over already.

For now I guess I have to settle for more coffee.

nanowrimo: day 2

So, it's NaNoWriMo day two. I really really wish I could tell you that my novel is off to a great start.

I really wish I could tell you it was off to any kind of start.

But...I haven't written a single word. I haven't even opened a new Word document. I don't even know what I'm writing about. I wish I could take the novel I started last year, the one I had to abandon when my computer crashed. I really like that one, and I would love to finish it. But that would be cheating.

Maybe I could just wait until day 11 or so--that's when the laptop died last year--and take up my last year's novel from then.

Maybe?

Nah, still cheating. Tempting, but cheating.

This is the third year I have done NaNoWriMo. The first year I was newly pregnant with Bek and spent most of November sleeping. The second year--well, you know. So this year I am determined to finish my 50,000-word novel, if it kills me.

And considering the fact that each November the housework goes undone for a month, if the writing doesn't kill me? The husband will. ;)

I just have to stop thinking about how great last year's start was. It's hindering my efforts to brainstorm something new. Hm. OK, tonight, at work, I'm going to put a serious effort toward putting down some starting notes. Then I'm going to get myself jumped up on caffeine and come home and start typing.

I need some good writing music. Zumba music? The theme from Rocky? The Notre Dame fight song? Maybe some Dropkick Murphys.

That part would be a lot easier to put together if I hadn't promised to not steal music. Grr.

So anyway, yes. Tonight. I will write. I'm supposed to write 1,667 words a day to make 50,000 by the end of the month. Today is day two. So that's what? 3334 words by the time I go to bed tonight.

Erg.

pretty pretty links

Hi, remember me!

OK, first thing's first. I would like to say:

GO SOX!!!

ok, got that out of my system. ;)

Hm...what else to write about? I've been kind of in a funk lately, which is why you haven't heard from me. I don't know what it is--I love fall, it is my very favorite time of year--but I think I am just overwhelmed, trying to juggle everything. So what better way than to deal with everything but to stay in bed late, not leave the house, and only shower when the kids complain?

OK, OK, kidding. I do try to shower once a week, at least. ;)

No really though--I've taken on too much stuff and I can't keep all these balls in the air. Got to learn to say no! And a several of my "things" keep me in close working relationship with people I don't like very much, which is stressful. Grr.

What I need is to get off my behind. Get organized. Get de-cluttered. Clean my dang house. I can't drop any of the balls neatly until the end of the school year so I just have to keep up and, God help me, not say yes to any-freaking-thing else. Haha, which is kind of funny since I'm looking to add some more Zumba classes to my schedule. I tell myself that doesn't count because I love my Zumba classes but let's face it--it's still more stuff. But I know from experience that trying to juggle in a cluttered, messy, energy-sapping environment is a lot harder than doing it in a peaceful zen garden.

Not that I have one of those.

But I could clean my dang house.

So tonight, after work (which I will not stress about or be grumpy for, even though I am not supposed to work on Thursdays because I teach Zumba on Thursdays and had to get someone to fill in for my class tonight) I will go to the store and buy myself some soy milk. I will come home and make myself a yummy soy pumpkin spice latte in a very very cute Starbucks halloween mug, and I will dig in to my house. Tonight: the kitchen and dining room. Tomorrow: the mess that has swallowed my desk. Early Saturday morning: the bathroom.

And so help me if I come home from working all weekend and my hard work is puked all over. That is the worst part of trying to clean! I come home after working so hard at home and working so hard at the j-o-b and stuff is tossed on my desk, dishes are sitting in the sink, toothpaste is all inside the bathroom sink and the last person to go didn't flush... Things like that are what get me so funk-y and down and then I don't do anything until it builds up so I don't know where to start so I don't do anything so it builds up so I get funk-y...

Fortunately I have some secret weapons. Or, y'know, not so secret:

1. Loud Zumba music.
   
2. an MP3 player for when loud music is not an option
3. yummy-smelling cleaning products
   
4. fresh air--I open the windows, even if it's 45 degrees out. It's SOOOO good, dontcha think?!

And I am going to throw things away.

Oh yes.

If we don't use it, out it goes. Maybe I'll find some things for ebay. Or freecycle. Or Big Sister Big Brother. But it's going. Dave Ramsey, the financial guy we follow, says to sell everythinig that isn't nailed down until the kids are afraid they're next. :) Well, the kids probably don't have to worry--we're kind of attached to them--but they'd better hide their favorite toys cuz Mama's on a rampage.

And then? When I'm finally done cleaning for the night? I'm going to work on ideas for my nanowrimo novel. Because I will finish this year, dammit. Provided my overworked, underpaid laptop doesn't bust down like last year.

So that's tonight. I'll probably be up forever but if it gets me ahead? Even a little? It's worth it. I just hope I don't get sucked into watching the Sox beat the crap out of the Rockies play because if I let myself sit down to watch it, I'll never get up again.

I'm in geek heaven because November 1 (which is only 16 days away, people!) marks the start of NaNoWriMo, or, National Novel Writing Month.

For those of you not in the know, NaNoWriMo is an opportunity for literary-minded people to write a 50,000-word novel. So those of you who have always said, "One day...one day I'll write a novel!" can now put an end to the "one days".

The writing is fast-paced and crazy, which is great for people (like me) who tend to over-analyze to death the stuff they've written. See, when you only have a month to finish your novel (that's 1667 words a day, people!) you don't have time to sit back and criticize yourself!

So pick up a pen and a ream of paper, or set up your computer somewhere where there is easy access to the coffee maker and the bathroom. Lock the door. Count down to 12:00:01am, November 1 and start writing until your hands hurt.

Then meet me at the local coffeeshop. Preferably one with free wifi. For, you know, email breaks.

I'll be the redhead with the laptop, the huge coffee cup and the bags under her eyes.

It's almost one in the morning. I was just lying in bed, completely unable to sleep. It might be all the things I have to do, circling around in my head.

Or...it could be that Diet Rockstar I drank a few hours back. Hm...maybe.

So while I was lying in bed for some reason I was thinking about my j-o-b. You know, the one I can't mention online under penalty of death.

I was thinking specifically about people who get paid a straight salary or hourly wage, as opposed to people who work for comission.

See, my company pays us REALLY good money to do what we do. It's ridiculous how much money we make, really. Not that I'm complaining! See, I make the same amount of money whether I'm working my rear end off trying to make mucho dinero for the company, or sitting around making photocopies.

That makes me a happy employee (I like my easy job, and I'm well paid!) and a competent employee (I've been there forever because they pay me too well to leave!) and it makes the customers happy because they get to deal with happy competent people, but it doesn't make me a very motivated employee.

We have a bunch of programs (that were not in place when I applied for the job, but whatever) that we're being tracked on. So if we're one of the lowest locations in the region for any given program, we get flack. But if what I just said about getting paid the same no matter what I'm doing is true, then why should I work any harder to reach our program goals, just for the bosses to say, "Good job. Now this time get this many."?

So then I look at people I know to be commission employees. Like at cell phone kiosks, retail clothing stores, that kind of thing. If you've got money, maybe you like shopping here because the employees are very attentive, and very careful to remember your name and what types of things you like to shop for. Maybe they even have your number so when something you might like comes in, they can hold your size and call you in.

But if you don't have money, like me, these kinds of employees come off as pushy, irritating, and self-serving. These kinds of employees make me want to yell, "Back off! When I want something I promise, I will come get you!" And I always feel like as soon as I walk in, they jump over each other to get to me first, and they're probably brawling while my back is turned. :)

So here you have highly motivated employees who don't seem too happy (that is, underneath their perfected customer-is-my-life's-joy facade), who annoy the customers, and who have a generally high turnover rate.

Nothing about this post is supposed to be particularly intelligent or persuasive--it's way past my bedtime y'know--it's just what I was thinkin about while I was lying awake, eyes refusing to shut.

time off

So I just got back from my retreat this weekend, and I have just one word.

Aaaaaahhhhhhh.

I love my annual women's retreat. It comes right after the most hectic time of year at the Tragically Unhip household--right when summer is over and school starts and we're all trying to work out our new routines. Right around now is when I'm just about to go over the deep end--and then comes my weekend away.

Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh.

So yeah. It was fun. We had a speaker, as usual, but this time it was my favorite speaker so far, Priscilla Shirer of Going Beyond Ministries. She spoke the first time I went to this particular retreat too, three years ago. She's a very engaging speaker--nothing is worse than a speaker who has a good message to give but who loses the message through a haze of too-quiet mumbling and foot shuffling. So yeah, she's good. I want to check out one of her bible studies sometime.

There was so much other stuff to do. I climbed a huge new rock wall and almost got to the top of the hard, jutting-out side! I could reach around the ledge and grab on...but then what?! :)

I shot guns: a .22 and a shotgun. I'm pretty accurate with the .22 (at the mind-boggling distance of about 20 feet, hehe) but bad with the shotgun, which kicks. I mean, the guy said there are a hundred bb's in the cartridge, and I only managed to hit the target with two. Anyway, I do have to say that rifle ranges are a good stress reliever! And archery, which I also did and which I also stank at. :) I could hit the target (which, again, was a mind boggling TEN feet away) but that's about all I could say about that.

Lets see, what else. I was wearing my Zumba instructor jacket all weekend so finally my bunkmates asked what Zumba is. I told them and they wanted me to show them. Wouldn't you know I just happened to have my music and a CD player in the car, so w had a mini Zumba class in the bunk, and again after playing volleyball that night.

We were up SO late Saturday night, eating ice cream, dancing, playing volleyball with the group of girls that play every year, Zumbando, talking...til 3 am. I made some great new friends, which is pretty much my favorite thing to do! :)

After coffee on Sunday morning (one of my favorite things on this retreat--all the coffee, tea, and hot cocoa you want, 'round the clock. Genius I tell you.) I had to leave for work.

Hahaha! I laugh just thinking about it.

I was such a grouch at work that day. I'd had like 5 hours of sleep all weekend, and was tired and sore and dehydrated. At least it was busy, which means it went fast.

So that was my weekend. Oh, that and I killed a spider yesterday that was about the size of a small dog, and just as furry. When a spider is big enough to have FUR? That's scary. *shudder*

I hate spiders.

Now I'm off to catch up on all the housework that didn't get done over the weekend. Whee!!

some random observations from the tragically unhip household

1. It doesn't matter how many Zumba routines, kids' birthdays, song lyrics, gossip details, or job prodcedures I can memorize--if it is a dentist appointment, I will forget it.
2. The fake cobwebs we put up for Halloween are competing with the ones the spiders left...and losing.
3. It doesn't matter how long or hard I clean the house all week long--after a weekend of me working and the rest of the family home, it will just look like it did before.
4. Just because a diaper is cheap doesn't mean you should buy it. In fact, diapers are one of those things you should really splurge on. Unless, y'know, you like cleaning up that kind of stuff. Freak.
5. Babies can't digest corn.
6. Goldfish crackers make good last-minute coating for homemade chicken nuggets.
7. I feel guilty spending $30 on fuzzy warm boots I will wear all fall and winter, but it's way easy to spend the same amount on a Halloween costume my kid will wear once for about two hours.
8. I seriously need to hire some 12-year-old kid to teach me how to use my new cell phone. Seriously. How the heck do I text someone? Get my pictures from my phone to my computer? Change my voicemail message? Anyone??!

such a dork

Do you ever find yourself saying "It bugs me when..." or "One of my pet peeves is..." and then thinking Gee, I kinda say that a lot. Maybe I need to lighten up.

Well, anyway. One of my pet peeves is when I go to a place that says "Open til Midnight" and I get there at 11 and I just got out of work and I'm starving and I have a lot to do and need some caffeine so I order a bagel, toasted, and a latte, but the bagel toaster is shut off for the night and the latte machine has already been cleaned so I have to settle for just nasty burned iced coffee and a stale sliced-but-not-toasted bagel instead and still have to pay the same amout I would pay for good food at 8 am.

I mean, I know you want to go home. But if your sign says you're open til midnight then I should be able to get what I want until midnight. And if you have to stay til 1 am to close up afterwards, well, that's what you're getting paid for isn't it?

Is it because not a lot of people come by for that sort of thing so late at night? Well then, why are you open so late? Is it because you get a lot of coffee orders that late but not much else? Then, maybe your sign should be "Open til 10. Just-coffee from 10 to midnight." Then you could just make it drivethru only from 10 to 12 because no one needs to go in to order just-coffee.

Is it just me?

Oh! And that reminds me of another thing that irritates me! Earlier today I went to get an ice cream cone before work. (I know, I need to stay away from the fast food places but it was a crazy day.) And I was helped by this guy who helped me the last time I went for ice cream in this particular place. And the last time I was there for ice cream, I licked it and it went plop! right on the pavement so I went back inside and ordered another one and was very thankful the dude didn't make me pay for it because it was his fault.

Why? you ask?

Because he didn't push the ice cream into the cone. He just let the big round scoop of ice cream sit on top of the cone. I hate that. You can't do that! Because then, when you lick it, what happens? Plop!

So today I went in for an ice cream and I was so excited because they had coffee-Oreo which combines two of my all-time favorite flavors so I got a single-scoop cone and was helped by that same guy and I walked out to my car and licked the cone and sure enough--plop! And of course I looked into the cone and there was no ice cream in it.

I was about to storm into the store and give the guy what-for--and now, thinking about it and getting all mad all over again, I wish I had--but the complacent part of me was pleading with the angry part of me, convincing me that we really had to get to work and did we really need that ice cream anyway?

So your lesson for today, kids, is push the ice cream into the cone, and don't tell me you're open if all I can get is burnt coffee.

no sleep for me tonight

We've been having trouble with the air conditioning lately. Trouble as in, it's just not working. And we've called the landlord about a billion times, and he's called the A/C guy a billion times. Trouble is, we're on the bottom of the totem pole because for some reason that I've forgotten already, the landlord doesn't have to pay the A/C guy for service. So we get the shit end of the stick even when, oh, say, it's been 90+ degrees for like a week and there's no A/C.

So today, FINALLY, the landlord comes over and says the guy should be here to fill up the coolant tank or whatever and he's dying the coolant so he can come back in a couple of days and see where the leak is. Sure enough there was a noisiness at the back of the house indicating that either a small plane had landed in our nonexistent backyard or a very obese air conditioning service man was trying to fix our unit.

Then said service man came into the house to ask where the filter was so he could change it. I told him I didn't know where it was but my husband had already (gotten sick of waiting and) changed it himself.

That was about 3:30 this afternoon.

It didn't hit me until just now, at almost 11:30 at night as I was just about to fall asleep:

A/C guy didn't knock, or anything, to get in the house. He just opened the door to our garage from outside, and then went through our garage and opened the door from the garage to the house, and came in.

This is not a happy thought when it's late and dark and your hubby and children are sleeping and all your windows and doors are unlocked because it's been so hot that you've been keeping everything open all the time.

I just ran up and down the house in lockdown mode, visions of news stories in which children are snatched from their beds by skeevy service people running through my head. I was somewhat comforted by the fact that this guy would never fit through any of our windows, until I thought of accomplices.

It's times like this when an imagination is a curse.

Now I can't sleep.

I can't wait to see my landlord. Man is getting an earful. Friggin walk through my house.