Finding Joy Pockets in a Sea of Crazy

Work work work, it's all I know, it's all I do, but I keep on keeping on — and every day, there are random bits of happy to break up the monotony of sitting in front of my computer, reading, correcting, rewriting, accepting, day in, day out. For example:

Last night I'd planned to make my usual Perfect Chicken and I was going to concoct a quinoa salad with olives and feta to go with it, but I couldn't find my quinoa anywhere. This got me rummaging through my chicken recipes . . . and I ended up making the most fabulous Greek chicken and pasta dish, with Penzey's yummy Greek Seasoning and grape tomatoes and mushrooms and scallions and mild green olives and a crazy-good lemony sauce, and I sprinkled feta on top, and I LOVE finding a new recipe!!

Today I had my Math Practice kids create their own story problems, and my Princesses and Littlejay made up adorable stories about dolphins and puppies and cupcakes, and then it was Glum Albie's turn. Here is what he came up with:

There were ten ninjas. Five of them DIED. How many were left?

I laughed for a year.

Tonight at zumba the Italian Spitfire asked me what I wanted for a cool-down song, and I picked "Feeling Good" by Michael Bublé, which is such a sexy song to dance to, your hips start bumping and grinding on their own, I swear. But she couldn't get it to play at first so I started singing it, and the lady next to me did a double take and said, "You sound just like him."

Ladies and gentlemen, I am Michael Bublé.

During my shower this morning, I could tell that my face and my knees are noticeably thinner — I could feel bones closer to the skin than usual. I haven't lost a lick o' weight, I'll be holding at 250 till the cows come home, but by golly you should see my slender knees and cheekbones.

My fingernails are painted like little strawberries — bright red with tiny black dots, and green stems on the tips. (Mine are cuter than this picture — the stem is much thinner and more graceful — but it gives you the idea.) Now, is the cuteness keeping me from picking at my cuticles?

Ha ha ha ha. A cuticle-picking ceasefire is not one of my joy pockets, I fear.

Right now, my immediate future is bright with exciting possibilities, starting with finishing my delicious Starbuck's coffee and taking a hot shower (I am SO sweaty and gross. During our slinky cool-down, I bent down to stretch my calf and a big drop of sweat fell in my ear. Sexy). Also cleaning the cat box, but we'll skip right over that.

And then . . . shall I watch the last three episodes of The Middle, a show I thoroughly enjoy and always forget to watch and am finally catching through the miracle of Netflix?

Or shall I read either of my two excellent library books?

Or shall I watch one of the movies I brought home from the library today — Notting Hill or Stranger Than Fiction or Shutter Island?

Or shall I do the Sunday Globe crossword puzzle, a treat I look forward to all week?

Exciting options abound!

—Lady C, feeling good

p.s. Sending many prayers of love and support to Good Neighbor Anne, who has two parents in various medical facilities at present; to Lady Darcy, whose husband is undergoing a variety of medical procedures; to Arty Jenny, who's got a brand-new knee, which I will visit tomorrow; and to my dear awesome Brunie, who's auditioning for Jeopardy! this week !!

Over! Done! Success! Yay! (Collapse)

I did it — everything on my packed to-do list and then some. And it all went great — church Annual Meeting was a success and the candidates I recruited were all voted in, with only one tiny diva fit and one arguing bully whom I talked down; the wedding party was a blast and I have lots of leftover Prosecco and squashy cream cake in my fridge, which is how I spell h-a-p-p-i-n-e-s-s; all editing + math work got done and submitted on time; and fabby presents are winging their way westward to Mrs. Fog Dog as we speak.

Today I sat down to figure out my schedule between now and June 25, when the kids and I fly to California; I've had lots of people request work from me, and I've been putting them all off because I didn't have time to think about it. But here it is: I can take every job being offered to me if they all meet their deadlines, and this means that I'm booked into July. This is crazytown; I have never worked this steadily for so many different clients! But it's all good. And I teach my last Math Practice session on May 31, so that will free up 10 hours a week for me, which will help a lot.

But I just got home from OWL and I'm exhausted, so I'm now going to put my feet up, sip some coffee, and read. And go to bed early.

Just wanted to report that I didn't collapse! I know you were worried.

Hasta la vista, baby.

—Lady C

On the Brink, Possibly Tipping

Before Sunday, I have to:

• Edit four lessons in a high school science curriculum, very technical and science-y and hard
• Prepare the materials to get our governing body elected at my church's Annual Meeting—ballot and blurbs about the candidates, one of whom is ignoring my calls and e-mails, and I'm ready to deck him
• Figure out what I'm supposed to say at said meeting about our "process" of choosing candidates (we beg until someone says yes?)
• Host a wedding party for two ladyfriends who are legally tying the knot in the D.C. area this weekend
• Finish shopping for Mrs. Fog Dog's birthday presents and get her package in the mail in a timely fashion (her birthday's the 26th) so I don't have to pay exorbitant postage fees as I did last year
• Finish doing data entry for my Math Practice boss
• Do Version 2 of the math overview book she's dreaming of; she didn't love Version 1
• Finish updating the Policy Handbook for my church

I am so fried. Tonight I felt like I was moving through gravy as I tried to do zumba.

Time for some bath therapy!! And maybe a slug of tequila.

—Lady C, slightly catatonic blogatrix

p.s. I did have an additional editing job for this week, but I girded my loins and told that client she'd have to wait till next week. I expect she'll grumble at me tomorrow, but I can take it.

M Is for . . . Maudlin?

I know, I know, I said I would post more often — but the last week or so has been such a symphony of crap, and my work schedule still hasn't let up for a second, so it felt the opposite of a win-win to take valuable time I couldn't spare to post about all the annoying things that keep happening to me . . .

But! My lucky readers — today is the day!

(Actually — you know how you put off a minor chore and then it feels like it starts to grow, larger and more oppressive, till it feels virtually undo-able? That's how "getting caught up on my blog" was starting to feel to me. Best to just dive in and get it over with, even though this will likely be a non-fun post. Sorry!)

So — what's been going on, you ask?

Work work work. I seem to be scheduled through June, when I'm taking a much-needed vacation (and I completely miscalculated the day school gets out, so my kids are missing the last four days of school, which I now have to deal with — I am an idiot). It's great to have the money — in theory, anyway, since several of these jobs have not actually resulted in money yet (cough . . . Penguin bastards . . . cough), but it's a little scary to see my schedule so tightly locked, since new people call me regularly and I have almost nothing to offer them. I work at night, I work on weekends, I work all the damn time. But yes, I recognize that this is a quality problem.

Penguin, my new nemesis. They are not, let's say, "overly happy" with the job I did on the Clive Cussler book, which of course I am horrified to hear. Please, I beg, give me some feedback, let me know what I did wrong. This request led to an exchange that I still can't quite wrap my head around. Here's a little taste of it for you:

• Boss Penguin: When you made an edit on the laid-out copy, you didn't write the page numbers from the actual book next to your edit.
• Me: Wow . . . um . . . I'm sorry, but I would swear that no one told me to do that. 
• Boss Penguin: No, because our other editors know to do it.
• Me: They . . . just know?
• Boss Penguin (brightly!): Yes!
• Me: They . . . magically . . . just know?
• Boss Penguin (less brightly): Yes.
• Me: How . . . wonderful.

Two things: (1) Besides not being stated to me, this request is not mentioned anywhere in their 20-page style guidelines. (2) I've been a professional editor and proofreader for 20 years, and no one has ever asked me to do proofing this way. (Once you're in the proofing stage, the original parent document is no longer relevant.)

And the whole conversation pretty much went like that: "Here's another thing that you didn't do, that we never asked you to do, and boy are we mad about it." Since my test was so good they want to give me another chance, but it was made very clear that this is a huge concession on their part. And I am truly torn; the stubborn perfectionist side of me wants to do one more job, just to show them that I am awesome, and the realistic side of me says, Seriously? When I have clients who love me and pay almost three times the Penguin rate, I'm going to willingly engage in a round of 'See If You Can Read My Mind Now'?"

But in any event, they still haven't paid me for a job I did more than a month ago. There was a problem with my first invoice, because I didn't put my Social Security Number on it, which you have to do on your first invoice.

See if you can guess what I'm going to say next:

Nowhere in the two single-spaced pages of instructions on how to submit an invoice did it mention this.

Did you guess right? Hey, maybe you can be a Penguin editor!

Anyway, my invoice got "kicked out" of the system, so I submitted a second one, which got forwarded to the wrong person, even though I named the correct person on the invoice itself. Boss Penguin's assistant called and asked if I could send a third one. I said sure — "but," I said, "what is to guarantee that the same thing won't happen again? Can't the wrong person simply forward my invoice to the correct person?" I would like to quite Boss Penguin assistant's response for you now:

"Ohhhh . . . I'll get back to you."

Yeah. The mind reels.

(And no, she has not gotten back to me.)

Poverty and squalor. We really really really need more money right now. I am still trying to pay off that $3K car bill from January, and other stuff just keeps happening. I had a hole in one of my crowns (my teeth are crap. It is so unfair. I groom and shellac and spay and do every single thing you're supposed to do for good dental health, but the genetic dental gods figured I already had enough gifts, ha ha, and they cursed my mouth. What can I do) to the tune of $400, then our water heater needed a new thermo-coupler, which Service Guy #1 couldn't fix because only Sears can fix this particular thermo-coupler, which didn't stop Service Guy #1 from charging us $200, then Service Guy #2, a Sears guy, charged an additional $100+ (the heater, fortunately, is still under warranty, and we learned a valuable lesson: Always Call Sears. Perhaps I should've had them do my crown), plus our car insurance went up by $200 (long story, more learnings), plus our property tax is due again, and I keep voting enthusiastically for all these tax increases because I love our schools and I know they need the dough, but man this bill is getting bigger!!!, and the side mirror on Husband's car got knocked off and needs to be replaced, and it's spring, and remember when the giant tree in my yard got ripped out by last year's storm? yeah, so now I've got a gaping hole in the front yard, and I need to plant something, a large-ish something, and large-ish somethings aren't cheap. And summer's coming, and the kids are each doing two camps, and three of the four are on the pricey side, but nonetheless, they still have these big blocks of empty time in July, and I'd love to find something for them to do so they're not around the house all day bugging me when I need to work.

Anyway. Lots of bills. And it's great that I'm bringing in more money, but it seems to go right back out again.

Black lung. I'm still coughing up lung crap like a coal miner. Bride Boy, what whack-ass form of tuberculosis did you give me???

But wait — there's more! The sad thing is that there's even more going on (we didn't have hot water for seven straight days, two of my bestys are dealing with significant health issues in their immediate families, the curriculum I'm editing for the UUs is making me gag, I may punch my minister, yada yada), but just writing this much has worn me straight out.

Anyway. Now you know what I've been doing: working, and not showering. ☺

But! Today is Mothers Day, one of my very special days, and I am determined to wring out every drop of joy that can be wrung from it!! (Even though I have a little headache. But I'm ignoring it.)

• My day started with coffee in bed, reading the new book about The Mary Tyler Moore Show, and presents! 
• Mimosa gave me dark chocolate and bubble bath and the most awesome card: "Mom—thought you might appreciate a little love and gratitude for Mother's Day . . . unless bowing before the awesomeness of your power would make you happier." And it plays a snippet from "Respect" when you open it. Maximally fabby!!!!
• Li'l Martini gave me a set of homemade coupons, which is a tradition, and I use every one of them. This one included "A day of praising you," "Unlimited cuddle time," and "I will leave you alone for a full hour while you're working." Priceless.
• Plans for the day include a good workout (I know it will make me feel better), lunch at Za, an afternoon on the couch with all my good books and some cold white wine, dinner at Summer Shack, the Survivor finale, and a hot bubble bath if I can squeeze it in. And lots of cuddle time with my adorable awesome children! And no work!! It will be a lovely day.

It needs to stop raining now. I want to walk on the bike path, and somehow doing it with an umbrella seems . . . weird. Stop raining, world! It's Mother's Day!

I'll let you know if the universe heard my plea.

The happiest of days to you all!

much love,

Lady C, infrequent blogatrix

Wait Wait . . . Don't Tell Me!

Husband, kids, and I just saw a live simulcast of this show at the Fenway theater in downtown Boston, which was total fun but my legs are very crampy from sitting in movie theater seats . . .

. . . because I took a long walk earlier today; I realized last night (as I minced down my hill — I am still ridiculous going down hills) that I have hardly been walking at all and vowed to do more of it starting today, BUT . . .

. . . I wasn't able to take a long hot bath afterward, which my arthritic knees truly long for after a bout of the exercise; instead I took a shower that was extremely unsatisfying because . . .

. . . apparently the pilot light on our water heater is not so much . . . lit.

At least, I'm hoping that's all it is, since relighting the pilot light is relatively easy. Well, for me, it's extremely easy, it involves saying, "Honey, I think the pilot light's out." Poor Husband is down there now (literally, as he's both down in the basment and down on his tummy under the water heater). He tried to light it before we left for the movie, but, he said, he reached forward with the match and ran into a small glass door, which our old water heater didn't have, so he came upstairs to dig out the water heater manual, which says, helpfully, "Open small glass door."

Anyway. He says that if I hear an explosion to call 911 and tell the kids he loves them.

In other news, Mimosa's throat feels better but she's got a scratchy voice, and she has to sing in two concerts this weekend. (They're doing a medley of songs from Hair and another from Les Miserables and she will die, die! if she has to miss it!) I'm plying her with hot tea liberally doused with blue agave syrup (we don't have honey, but they seem similar, right?) and prayer. We shall see.

Husband just yelled, "What??" Um, good sign?

I think I'm going to bed.

G'night!

—Lady C, optimist

I Know I Should Go, But Dang Do I Want to Stay

Husband went grocery-shopping today and got almost everything on the list, but the store didn't have clementines. "No worries," I chirped, "I'll take a little after-dinner walk, stretch my legs, and get some at Trader Joe's!" I've pretty much been in this chair all day, either working or e-mailing or making phone calls in my new role as church power broker — oh, the deals I have spinning . . .

So I need to move, for sure. And dusk is my favorite time to walk.

But Husband also brought me a PEOPLE magazine, and there's just a little cold white wine left in the bottle, and I'm exhausted, as I always am by this point in the day . . . sitting with my feet up before good Wednesday night TV sounds attractive beyond words.

Oh, well. I'm not Catholic but I've got guilt to burn, so off I go.

But first I'm blogging, because I am just that dutiful.

(And I will do anything to keep from climbing Heart Attack Hill, apparently. Bride Boy was extremely scornful of my hill, though he never actually walked it; we simply drove up and down it 25 times, while I pointed out how steep and endless it really is, while he scoffed and mocked and made sport. Well, he's young and fit and runs marathons and all, maybe it really did look like nothing to him.)

(I'm missing him; a week ago tonight we were eating artichoke dip and laughing uproariously. But he left me a little something-something, a lingering raspy cough that refuses to [a] turn into a cold or [b] go away, and now Mimosa is complaining of a sore throat, which is awful because she's singing with the high school Pops this weekend, so please send us good healthy throat thoughts.)

Sending a shout-out and much love to two birthday girls: KT in California and Sleepy Susan Kerry here in Massachusetts! I hope your days were full of joy and delight, and also maybe pie.

OK – off to scale Cardiac Crest on a quest for clementines. Also butter and chicken patties and edamame hummus. O how I adore Trader Joe's.

—Lady C

When "Taking a Break" Becomes "This Is How I Live Now" . . .

OK. I've had my little blogging break, while I dealt with the pile o' crazy that my work life has become, but it's time to get back to it.

Let's start with the weight-loss news:

None!

And now the weight-gain news:

None!

And that is something. I was moaning about my months-long plateau to a lady at church (she's kind of a crank, but I knew she's doing Weight Watchers and would sympathize), and she cheered the fact that I hadn't gained any weight back — like, she was actively excited for me! I was quite touched — and she said, "Your body really doesn't want you to lose weight. You have to fight it," and I said, "Yeah, my body's kind of a jerk," and she roared.

Bride Boy came and went in a whirlwind of awesomeness. I had a handful of besties over for a yummy dinner and scrumptious cocktails and a selection of my favorite games, and it was a night for the history books. In a flurry of thank-you e-mails the next day, Bride Boy wrote:

That was exactly the night I fantasized about when I told Lady C I wanted to meet some of her friends.  

He loved my other friends, they loved him, it was just a fabby groovy awesome time.

He also came to zumba with me (and told the Italian Spitfire what her blog name is — she didn't bat an eye), and when the Spitfire asked how long we've known each other, we both went slack-jawed and stupid and said, "Uhhh . . ." but we did the math later and realized: 24 years. Crazytown!!

And my employment star continues on its crazy rise — clients are coming out of the woodwork to request my editing, and I'm now booking into June. So — is this the sign I was looking for?!

And I'm zumba-ing two days a week faithfully, but if I continue to be gainfully employed and we get all our bills paid and I make a significant dent in what we owe on our home equity line of credit (remember my adventures with Neerja, back in the day?), then I will . . . well, probably think seriously about a new car, since my 15-year-old is beginning to wheeze and sigh a bit when I start it in the morning, plus replace our hideous couch, plus buy some pants that fit me since I'm down to one pair, but then I will add two more zumba classes to my repertoire.

There's so much more to say, but I did three editing jobs today plus Math Practice plus a handful of church calls, and I am fading fast. Bathtub calls!!

I will return to regular blogging now, even if it's just short newsy bites. Promise!

—Lady C, bathtub-bound

p.s. Check out my guest post on Kate Nested's blog!