Ch-ch-ch-changes!

So, yeah, it’s been a while and I’ve been neglectful of you, readers reader. However, here I am, typing away. I even have a whole list of potential posts in my catch-all purse notebook. First, though…there are going to be some changes in my life to which I haven’t made you privy.

Despite an economy that makes the real cat woman look beautiful, I got a new job!

This old place has sort of grown on me, despite the oftentimes backward and close-minded things I encounter, so I am a bit sad to leave. However, I am looking more forward to working in an industry I can throwugh my full support behind – the spirits industry. Of course, working only 3 miles from home – where I can eat lunch at home, answer the age-old question of “Who Let the Dogs Out?” be “Lydia! At lunch!,” and generally be in an environment that seems more closely mirroring my own outlook on life – is also a draw.

I will definitely miss the time that The Boyfriend and I share during our commute. Granted, we’re often still asleep for the 5:00 am home-to-work portion, but it’s nice to have that 30-40 minutes in the afternoon to deconstruct the day and wind down together (oh, and talk about our cow-orkers). I think we’ll start new routines (known to many people as “The Gym”) that we can still bond over, tough. We be ok, as my friend Twench (who is back up and running, yay!) would say.

So, I say to you, this is not the end, there are more posts to come. Drink some spirits and cheers!

Last Minute

In 48 hours, I will be hurtling toward New York City in a large metal canister. Holy shit. That sounds even scarier than I meant it to. In roughly 55 hours, that metal canister and I will be over a huge body of water. ACK!

I’ve made lists upon lists of clothes to pack, books to read, words in other languages to remember, etc. However, these are the very last minute things I need to do (I call the 48 hours prior to a major international trip last minute. You might not.):

• Fold and pack the laundry you did, last night.
• Make sure you have coordinating socks.
• Make sure you pick up your Euros, tomorrow.
• Make sure your IT guy gives you a laptop.
• Make sure your purse fits and is easily accessible in your bookbag, since you can only have one carry-on and a personal bag.
• Make sure your iPod is charged.
• Download a movie, or something, to watch since it looks like the airline is showing something crappy about America’s Treasure.

Crap. I know there’s more. I know I’m going to forget something major but not readily purchased in Europe like … oh, hell, I don’t know what, but there’s got to be something. They have Diet Coke in Europe, right? I need one of those in the morning (I’m trying not to ask for too much, like Diet Dr. Pepper, since I’d like to reserve all my good luck for the flying part).

Ugh. I have travel stress. It took me two hours to figure out my route from the airport to the hotel, and I’m still worried that the signs won’t read like my plan. I need to remember my guidebooks.

Crap.

Jetsetter

In a wild turn of events, I found out, this morning, that I’ll be traveling to Europe in a week and a half. That’s a pretty out-of-the-ordinary occurrence in my little world, but it’s a good one. A business meeting is taking place in Brussels, and I’ve been designated to go represent our little piece of the company.

Now, to find that passport, stress about what to wear, find a guidebook (I’ll have a day or so to sightsee!), figure out if my cell phone works internationally, buy some euros (which is like buying gas, these days – painful), and freak out about flying over the big pond!

Any recommendations on a must-see, must-do, must-eat or must-drink? Too bad I’m not a fan of Lambic, as there is a brewery in Brussels that excels in it, I’ve read.

The Six O’Clock Alarm Would Never Ring

It’s time for a little daydreaming. First, some context for you. I work at a place. We manufacture things. When I say we do, I mean that I don’t. I work in the department that pays for the things we manufacture. My boyfriend works at the same place. He measures the things that my department pays for. Vague enough?

He and I have different work schedules. His is strict, mine is loose. He is expected to work four 10-hour shifts. My work day is more office-y — eight hour days except when it’s necessary to work more to get my job completed. This means that our days overlap, but not very neatly. He is required to clock in an hour and 15 minutes before my day starts. He can clock out 15 minutes after my day normally ends.

He and I live together in a house that is 40 miles away. I have a compact car that understands fuel economics to the tune of 36 miles per each gallon of gas. He has a monster truck with 6 wheels that failed math class (13 miles per gallon).

Since I am so good at math, I can easily tell that it makes more sense for us to carpool in my car, even if it is a teeny tiny death trap (according to him). If you aren’t so good at math, I’ll break it down for you (and I’ll show my work!).

 

*Math geek note: Fuel prices are local as of this morning. My car drinks gasoline – straight up. His loves diesel and getting caught in the rain.

See? So, now that I’ve established our differing hours and the fine economical (and environmental!) sense it makes for us to carpool, can I whine that I’m not working four 10-hour days and one 8-hour one? Set aside the knowledge that I used to work many more hours than this on a regular and expected basis. However, why do you think I left that job?!

Here’s the daydreaming part. Sometimes, at 4:15 am, when I’m in the shower, I dream about what it would be like to not have to work. What would I do all day? Every day, I think of new things. Ideally, The Boyfriend wouldn’t have to work, either, but that’s a whole different daydream.

Here are the things I’d do if I didn’t have to work (assuming I could afford anything more than a cardboard box to live in):

• I’d be hot. I’d work out a lot because I’d have a lot of time. I’d take my dog on walks, then I’d go on runs, then I’d go to the gym.
• I’d live in a pristine house. There would be plenty of time to clean.
• I’d eat well. Cooking isn’t distasteful to me, by nature of itself. It’s more of a time issue. I don’t have time to learn to cook well or devote to really good recipes.
• I’d read a lot. The library would be a bi-weekly destination, for sure.
• I’d be way craftier. All the project ideas floating around in my head would be tackled, one at a time.
• I’d learn to find beauty. The Boyfriend has a really nice camera that I would learn to use. I could take a class at the local university. I would document the lovely architecture around town, the spring flowers, the summer sun shining in windows and between tree branches.

Those are just the things I daydreamed about, this morning. I hear people say that they don’t know what they’ll do when they retire. Ha! I have my retirement planned, already. Hey! It’s only 30 years away, at the least. That’s not too far ahead of time, is it?

Work Release Program

Despite the fact that I’ve probably done plenty of things to land me there, I’m not in jail and the title of this post doesn’t refer to my probation for good behavior. Rather, it refers to the fact that my place of employment is allowing employees to go home at 2:30, today, because of the impending bad weather. That sounds great, right? I’m trying to forget the fact that I had a doctor’s appointment and called before coming to work, asking if it would be worth the 45 minute drive because of the weather. They said they weren’t releasing. I’m also trying to forget the phone call I just got from my dad, who mentioned that the bad weather has already started at home and he thinks 2:30 is too late to miss the worst driving conditions.

Fun!