Thanksgiving

Check it out, people! White Thanksgiving! We have had the craziest weather this week.

If you live in a place where it regularly snows, you would pee your pants if you saw what happens here with a little snow accumulation. Total gridlock on the roads, jackknifed buses, people stuck on the freeway for twelve hours or more, going nowhere. Seriously, it is complete pandemonium.

Lucky for me, I live about two miles from my office and didn't have any trouble commuting. Not so lucky for me, I had to take a little field trip with one of my new co-workers. Not too far, it probably normally takes about an hour. The trip there wasn't that bad; the storm was just starting. I knew how stupid it was to be heading out, too, but what are you going to do, right? The trip back was pretty brutal, though. I was almost dead certain I was going to have to kill and eat him, then pick my teeth with his beard hairs. I'm so new in the office that the people there haven't yet learned how hostile I can be when I don't get my snacks in a timely manner. If anyone from there is reading this, I like Skittles. And make it snappy, 'kay? Or you might regret it.

YES, this DOES have something to do with Thanksgiving, geez! This year I am thankful that I wasn't hauled to the pokey with bloodstains on one of my fancy new office blouses. Those things are hell to get out, you know.

Moving on, because most of you probably aren't fans of cannibalism, the snow turned to rain about mid-morning and the roads cleared quickly. We had a lovely dinner here at our house with all the fam, and Lloyd didn't even stage a surprise emergency drill, though I suspect he was SORELY tempted. Happy Thanksgiving to all of you; I hope you have had a fabulous day!

Smooth

I'm pretty sure most of you guys know my policy on ironing: just say NO. In fact, I don't even own an iron. You can read some of my previous thoughts on ironing here and here, intermingled with general ridiculousness. Truly, I can't remember the last time I ironed something, or why. I have always been unbearably pretentious about it, too: Iron, me? Oh, no, certainly not. I don't iron, whoever would do that? So bourgeois! I have MUCH more valuable things to spend MY time on, but you just go ahead and do whatever suits you, you poor unenlightened thing.

Like all the other times I've been smug, it has come back to bite me on my wrinked ass. You know I have this new job thingy, right? And it was quite the trial acquiring a suitable work wardrobe after spending six years, one month and seven days lounging around eating bon-bons and sucking down wine being lovingly devoted to providing domestic bliss for my charming family for such a long glorious time. Different outfits are required, as you might imagine. Anyway, I just ran out of new and new-to-me clothes that didn't have to be washed first. Yeah, yeah, I know all about how you're supposed to wash the clothes first, but come on! You should all know by now that I'm lazy as hell so just shut up.

And, dammit if some of my clothes didn't come out of the dryer looking like they are in need of a good smoothing, even by my sub-standards. Now what do I do? Seriously, how do people LIVE like this?!?!? And really, it's not even my fault. Lloyd is ruthlessly efficient and he churns through the laundry like the tasmanian devil on speed. Trouble is, Taz seems to be a little color blind and unable to read labels, so the silk shell goes in with the Transformer underwear and the filthy jeans with nails in the pockets.

Oh, SWEET! I feel an epiphany coming on. It feels sort of like a piercing, stabbing pain in my temple, so it's definitely either another flash of brilliance or a brain tumor. You know how steam will get the wrinkles out? They even make little steaming gadgets just for that purpose, but you can also hang stuff in the bathroom with the shower on, which gave me my great idea for wrinkle removal AND time savings in the morning: I'm going to get dressed BEFORE I get in the shower! That way, I get a few extra minutes of sleep, I'm all fresh and perky for a day at the office, and the wrinkles in my clothes are steamed into submission. I'll let you know how it goes. I hope this one's a winner because otherwise I'm going to have to rescind Lloyd's laundry privileges and I definitely don't want to do that, because I've seen enough dirty Transformer underwear to last me a lifetime.

Exercise, exercise, exercise

You guys all know Lloyd is just the teeniest bit nuts, right? What, you thought I was the crazy one all this time? Oh, you naive, sheltered little BABIES!

First off, I hope the title doesn't give any of my Osan friends PTSD. If I NEVER hear the words 'MOPP 4, Alarm Black' again, it will be too soon.

So what zaniness is Lloyd up to now, you ask? Well, as we all know, Lloyd requires a LOT of action. Because he is not flying very often and he is so efficient in managing routine household tasks, he has way too much free time on his hands. He is quite resourceful and luckily for all of us, he mostly he uses his powers for good instead of evil. Except for the puppy, of course, but that's a topic for another day.

He spends a fair amount of time tinkering in the garage, doing who knows what. I stopped going in there when I saw that he had the corpse-stashing cooler staged by the big roll-up door along with a mop and some bleach. I had no idea what was up when he came out with a grave look on his face and an announcement to share. I thought maybe he had constructed a cold fusion device or isolated the gene that causes an incessant need for continuous frenzied activity.

But no, sadly, it was neither of those things. Instead he informed us we were about to have an earthquake exercise. If you don't live in an earthquake prone area, you might think this is a little wacko, but the Pacific Northwest is earthquake country and believe you me, I don't want to be stranded with no wine and Excedrin when the big one hits.

Lloyd doesn't mess around, people. He switched off the electricity and the water, fired up the generator and cooked us dinner on his eleventy jillion dollar four burner propane camp stove. He hooked up the lights, the television, the fridge and the computer to the generator. Then, while the kids were watching the 'Magic School Bus' episode about alternative energy sources with the kinetic energy powered Ferris Wheel, he hauled in water from his simulated rain barrel, heated it up on the stove and pumped it into the sink with a battery powered shower head (EVERYONE needs one of these, for real) to do the dishes in style. He took just a short break to enjoy some high quality reading material while lounging in front of the infamous painting and then it was back to the salt mines.

It was starting to get a little chilly after dinner, so he lit a fire and shoved the couch out of the way to build the sleeping area. After the boys mined the carpet under the couch for snacks, toys and books, we read some books and hit the sack, wind-up flashlights and radios close at hand for the inevitable aftershocks.

All in all, it was a rousing success, and you guys can just head on over when your house crumples into a pile and all you have to eat is slugs and grass. I know I hardly even need to mention this, but BRING WINE.

Well.

Well. So now I have a job and I go to work every day. How I wish I could blog about it, because there is some crazy stuff going on there, people. I'm going to try to walk the line here because I don't want to get dooced. At least not yet. But who knows, in a few more weeks I might have a raging desire to go out in a blaze of glory, or to shove a freshly sharpened pencil through my eyeball. It's funny, the Place I Toil (PIT) is VERY interested in the total control of information flow. Overly so, in my opinion, and since I've been there two whole weeks now, I definitely know all about how they should do everything.

Maybe I should do a secret password protected blog, what do you guys think of that? They are kind of a pain to read because you have to sign in, but I think you can have up to 100 people invited. Let me know if you would be interested, and maybe I'll set one up.

Okay, okay, it's not THAT bad; I am actually mostly enjoying it. It is a weird change, though. It's been a little hard to transition from laying on the couch reading in my thrift store pajamas to laying in my office chair reading in my thrift store comfortably-relaxed office wear, but you know me, always up for a good tough challenge!

Let's see, what else in new? Oh yeah, one bad thing about being at work all day is that there is no competent adult at home to impose reasonable checks and balances on Lloyd's imagination, so he is puppy shopping. Yes, a puppy. Because it is too quiet and clean around here, I guess. I suppose I should be grateful he's not scheming up some way to acquire some additional small children while not interfering with my money-making prowess. And don't think he couldn't do it; he is VERY resourceful. It's kind of scary, I have to admit. I go off to work every day and I'm never quite sure what I might find when I come home. One day we had a new fence, another day it was a giant trampoline. See what I mean? He's been talking about chickens, but I'm sure he wouldn't really...... RIGHT?

Homefront

Some of you might be wondering what's going on at home while I'm at my fancy new office. It's been fumigated for the fish juice stench, so I feel okay calling it fancy, considering my frame of reference. Especially now that I have my gargoyles all set up. And don't worry, I'm getting along fine. I have figured out who to kiss up to (the secretary and the security guard) and haven't had any more pants-related issues. I'll keep you posted.

Now, moving on to the homefront: as we all know, household management is a VERY daunting task, particularly when you really just want to lay on the couch and read books all day. In addition to all the usual drudgery, we have just started homeschooling this fall.

I have to admit, I was a TINY bit concerned about leaving Lloyd in charge. He has no interest in laying on the couch reading books, but he is pretty deeply involved in some elaborate projects involving fishing lures and tackle boxes, woodpiles, boats and a rototiller. Oh, and flight instructing on the side. Also, we have completely different philosophies about.... oh, EVERYTHING. Homeschooling, for example. I am a fan of child-led learning, where you can go worksheet and curriculum free. Partly because this is how kids learn the most effectively, but also this seems to be the method that provides the most free time for laying on the couch reading. Unsurprisingly, Lloyd completely hates that approach and insists on a strictly scheduled plan with measurable metrics. He's all checklists and square meals; I'm clothes optional and snacks all day.

So how's it going, you ask? Friends, it is AWESOME! Lloyd has this place humming along like a $150 million dollar jet. After all, if the Government can trust him, maybe I can, too. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Oh, I crack myself up. But really, we should have done this AGES ago. Weston loves his math sheets and his gold stars, who would have guessed? Not me, that's for sure. I NEVER would have tried that. He can't wait for school to start every morning (at 9 a.m. sharp, natch) and he sits there cheerfully for well over an hour, completing his carefully selected tasks for the day. Crazy! Everything would be absolutely perfect if only I could get Lloyd to quit asking me where the book is that gives him all the guidelines for homeschooling. Oh, I just figured out how to solve that problem, yay me! Next time, I'm just going to make motorcycle hands and say, "Vroom, vroom, I can't hear you!"

Work

Today, for the first time in six years, one month and seven days, I left the house to go to work. Pretty zany, huh? I brushed my hair, put on shiny shoes and mascara and teetered out the door at O'dark thirty with a briefcase. Aren't I such a FANCYPANTS?!?!?!?!?!? I felt all smart and PROFESSIONAL, and it was FANTASTIC!

Well, until I got there. I will actually be working in a smallish office very near my house, but had to go into the main office first to fill out reams of paperwork, get my equipment issued and attend a Senior Staff meeting to meet all the muckety-mucks. I'll just skip the part about how the phone box to get through to security to get through the gate is like one of those japanese puzzle boxes with no visible means of opening it and the security guards laughed at me, shall I?

After I finally weaseled my way into the place, which is literally a huge maze-like bunker two floors deep, I was presented with a pile of paper taller than my head and a ratty ballpoint made by blind people in Wisconsin. Or somewhere like that; how the hell would they know?

Then it was time for the meeting. A little backstory might come in handy here: you might recall my recent involuntary diet, during which I dropped a significant bit of weight. This, as you might guess, caused me a significant pants problem, as in, I had none that I could wear, so for the past two weeks I have been frantically shopping for office-appropriate legwear. Desperation does not make shopping fun, friends. Finally, just this past weekend, I cobbled together some suitable attire, or so I thought. Really, you should test drive new office clothes, but pressed for time, I went with the new pants. Which are FINE, don't get me wrong, but they have one of those flat metal tab things that slides into a little catch for a fastener. This is not a secure arrangement, as it can just slide right back out, so there is also a button on the inside. Not being a fan of extraneous fastenings, I went commando on the button and paid the ultimate price while making my way to the cluster of bosspeople. Too bad I wasn't in the pen factory. Note to self: no such thing as extraneous fastenings.

After that smashingly successful meet and greet, I gathered up my equipment, including a mobile device that I'm pretty sure could simultaneously program a missile guidance system and break the Vernam Cipher. Naturally, I can't even turn it on, but I cannot possibly admit this, and am therefore now forced to capitulate and learn to.... do whatever the hell that stupid thing does. I went to the smaller office where I will be working, and got my cube. It's nice and clean, or WAS, until I spilled tea all over my desk. Normally, I would have SOMETHING to sop up spills in my office- gym clothes, paper towels, kleenex, SOMETHING, but since I had just moved in, I had nothing. Nada. Zip. Now that I'm sitting here after the fact with some wine, I realize I should have used the fancy contraption because that totally would have solved two problems at once, but since I wasn't thinking clearly, I wiped it up with my ivory colored coat. It wasn't especially absorbent, and so I just sat on the desk and squirmed around in the offending pants to soak up the excess, and to teach them a lesson. After all, I didn't want to make my new cubicle neighbors think I was WEIRD because I spilled tea, right?

With that accomplished, I set out to send emails to all my friends, find the coffee pot, and do all the other REALLY important stuff. It was going great, until I started smelling something very, very foul in my cube. I sniffed around like some demented little dog until I figured out that it was the floor. I think it's rotten tuna fish juice, and it was fine until I started spilling tea on it and rolling my chair around and walking on it. Lucky for me, I was assigned an office 'sponsor' whose duty it is to help me out. This poor sucker had no clue what he was in for, but he gamely helped me spritz the floor with some carpet cleaner and scrub it with paper towels. Then we started questioning all the folks in the cuberhood about who was there before me and what the stench might be. A little information was gleaned: the previous occupant might or might not have been named 'Don' and he may have left a few months ago to work for the state, but no one knows why. It's BECAUSE OF THE SMELL, fools!

So that's the day one report. I'll keep you posted, but right now I have to find my febreeze, and some super glue for my pants.