Everything I Like Causes Cancer

My attorney teammate and I have been hosting/broadcasting a web seminar for our clients every week for the past two months. We hold classes on Thursday mornings. My job has been to coordinate all the attendees, to attend and monitor the broadcast to make sure the slides are working and visible, and to let the next speaker know when it's almost time for their presentation.

Each week as I attend I put my phone on mute so that the other attendees can't hear me clicking away at my keyboard or talking or whatever. It was uncomfortably silent at the end of the first presentation last week when the speaker (my BFF) asked for questions so I picked up my handset, went live, and got everybody talking for her. And then I hung up my handset, proud that I had helped my friend out of a sticky spot.


So then I was sitting here at my desk, being all comfortable in my own space when I belched, loud. I followed it with a tiny "'Scuse me!" because I think that's cute. And then I looked up and saw that I HAD FORGOTTEN TO RE-MUTE MY PHONE. Before I could even think I exclaimed, "OMG! I'm not muted!" And then you could hear my friend giggling.

Yes, you heard me: I belched over the phone in front of almost all of our west coast clients.


Thankfully, everyone in the conference room on our end thought it was hilarious and none of the clients seemed to notice. BUT STILL! I was so ashamed and embarrassed. It took half an hour for my face to return to its usual shade. It was an hour before I could laugh. It will be years before I live it down.

LOST:  small, black and white speckled motivation, missing since 4 pm yesterday; timid but responds to food that makes noise like bags of chips and boxes of cookies; no microchip, collar or tags but comes to the name "Maynard."  Maynard is an indoor/outdoor inspiration and weighs about 20 pounds.  One testicle.  REWARD.

A big part of my job is negotiating personal injury settlements with claimants and their representatives. I talk to people from all over the nation every day. And I can generally do so without cracking up so hard I cry on the phone. Today was not that day.

I am getting crushed at work this week and have little to say that isn't complaining.  I did hear a story on the radio this morning about how someone hacked into an Illinois Department of Transportation computer and changed the wording on a road sign near here to:

Almost no one gets to see my basement.  I let Peabody see it once when we were drinking and promptly swore her to secrecy under the threat of death the next day.

By the time I was finished the first and second floors looked great but the basement had turned into a beast I was afraid to fight.

Just try to find the old TV in this picture.

Inspired by my Grandpa's courage yesterday I rolled up my sleeves, put on my rattiest sweats and tamed the beast with my bare hands.

Hey! There's the TV!  And the floor!

(the boxes in the lower left corner are broken down and ready for recycling

and the stuff on and around the TV will be on shelves as soon as I buy some more)

You can even see and open the halfbath door now.  My next project is to actually open it (has only been done once while I lived here), pull up the old fuzzy rug that's in there - ::shudder:: - and scrub the sink and toilet.  I may need liquid courage for that job.

I apologize for disappearing the last few days. I could actually use a couple more carefree days where I tune out everything but work and food and TV but I can recognize the rumblings of a coup d'etat from as far away as Westchester, PA.

I keep an extremely busy schedule, all the time. I am always on the go. I like having lots of things to do, places to go, and people to see. But lately, instead of feeling fulfilled and happy, I feel harried and ill-prepared. I hate feeling harried; I like to be prepared. I like to take my time and put thought into things. I like to savor things. So far this month I paired a busy social calendar with an obsessive drive to enjoy the last few warm days of fall and found myself always doing two things at once but never fully engaging in either. I had to take a break. Plus, as blog friend words, words, words so graciously pointed out in the comments to the last post, on Monday I had a hangover. A hangover like no other in many years. It was, I hope, the hangover of the decade so that I carry on, safe in the knowledge that I won’t have to suffer like that again for at least 14 months.

You may be asking yourself what led to such a hangover and I would answer . . .

October 2: My car broke down and it cost $600 to repair it. Not a good way to start a busy month. Especially when your mechanic, a great and dependable guy, only accepts cash. I also attended a debate party that night. After paying the bill at the repair shop, spending time with my friends making fun of Caribou Barbie sounded nice. So did the free food.

October 3: Soulard Oktoberfest



October 4: Best of Missouri Market


Elizabeth Taylor was there. I thought for sure I captured this shot of her without her knowing it, but as you can see, she saw me. And was apparently pissed.

October 5: a baby shower - the third in a long string of baby showers - there are more to come


October 6-9: WORK, WORK, WORK, TOIL, TOIL, TOIL


October 10: I had dinner with a friend I just don't get to see often enough at Chimichangas.

October 11: two baby showers - I could only attend one because they were two hours apart and started within an hour of one another. By this time I have become so socially frazzled that I left the house without the directions, went back in to get them and proceeded to leave my purse on the kitchen counter. I realized it when I was too far away from the house to go back. I forged ahead without it and later realized that I wrote the directions down wrong and spent 20 minutes driving around trying to find the house, without a cell phone. This is what happens to me when it's been too much; I lose my brain. I made it, but I was 30 minutes late, which drives me fruit. I got home in time to change clothes to meet Peabody and LM and Mary for dinner.

October 12: Columbus Day Parade on The HIll

These two little guys were a riot. Every time there was music in the parade they were shaking their little booties.

The house seen pictured here, across the street, is the residence of Yogi Berra's direct descendants. That's them on the stoop watching the parade! I bet they are saying Yogi-isms.

So that's how I got there. I had Monday off, it was a beautiful day for a parade, and I drank too much. I let my hair down. I blew off some steam. I stayed up waaaaay too late IM'ing with Fal and words3. I'm so glad he opted not to post the transcript of our chat. They did a lot of making fun of me and I typed a lot of, "SHUT UP!"

My pets, and home, and yard, and TiVo, and sanity all remain neglected. I don’t see anything getting done around here considering I’m leaving town Friday and heading to beautiful Jacksonville, Illinois to attend my college Homecoming with these weirdos.

Sometimes you just have to let go and enjoy the ride.

To a work friend at lunch:  Can you put the tip in?