Scott Adams knows my life

What was the date of Friday?  It sure as hell felt like Friday the 13th.  Not a good day.  Not good at all.

My life has turned into something very close to a Dilbert comic.  This is the one from November 16th.

Here's why it's my life.

For the last 20 months I've been working as an "acting" lead/supervisor for my technical group.  I've been told I'm to get the real job as soon as they post it, and they have never posted the job.  Since I've been officially "acting", I've been getting the extra pay as if I really had the job.  But TPTB keep jerking me around on posting the job.

Friday my boss pulled me into her office and told me that I was no longer being the "acting" person, that I didn't have the technical skills.  (Funny how I had the skills all along.) Now, I've never had a bad review and the user community I support (all the core financials, GL, AP, Purchasing, etc.) loves me.  So it seems that my management wants someone who have the skill set of my Oracle contractors (who make $50K more than I do and won't take the salary cut) plus have the interpersonal/ manager skills to be the lead.  Frankly, I have more technical skills than the people who actually hold lead positions in my area.  AND the little PC girlie I mentioned before?  She's been given twice the technical training - on the company dime - that I have.  And I'm a regular employee, she's a contractor.  I've begged for extra training.

Anyhow, my paycheck is suddenly being shorted $500 a month.  At a time when things were really, really short to begin with.

And then my boss asked me if I would mind continuing doing the job without the pay. 

And of course my response was an emphatic NO.  Those folks have brass balls.

I told my boss I was leaving for the day to work on my resume.  I cried all the way home.

After I got home, the middle school called me to tell me that Moe had gotten into a fight and would be receiving in-school suspension for two days.

And then we discovered the problem with our dog Abby. 

We've had Abby for over 2 years.  She was full grown when we got her from her prior owner.  The vet checked her out, saying she was in fine health and had been spayed.  She's sweet and very good natured, a smart dog.  She's a golden retriever/chow mix.

At supper time we discovered that Abby had given birth to four puppies that look suspiciously like the white pit bull up the street.  Damn.  All I can see is money being spent.  Shots, puppy food, spaying, etc.

Abby's a good mom and is very protective of the puppies.  She's an outside dog, but we've brought her and the pups into the basement.  Of course, the Stooges are delighted about puppies.

They weren't so happy when I told them about the money situation and how it will impact Christmas.  I'm still employed, but this is a real bite.  And this economy is so bad right now.....

We'll manage.  We always do.

Random Thursday

I went to the Orthopod today and got nine x-rays.  Four on my knee and five on my shoulder.  (It was supposed to be three and three, but they had to do retakes.  At one point they did retakes because my bobby pins - my hair is in a bun today - got in the way.) (Really.)  The nice Dr. Orthopod declared me just old, that is to say, full of arthritis.  He stick a big needle in my shoulder joint and shoved cortisone in it and sent me on my way.

It's better than surgery.  I'll take it.

The chickens are enjoying fall.  And we are enjoying their eggs.

Curly has been getting calls and letters from a small private college in the northern part of the state.  They had reps at his concert, and they have asked him to audition for a music scholarship. A scholarship is the only way he'd get to go there, as we all know private colleges aren't cheap.  At this point it will take a miracle just for him to get into college, any college.  I've told him to go for it - maybe that miracle will occur.

The month has been designated "No Shave November" by Curly.  He's looking pretty damn disreputable.

That big sucking noise you hear coming from the vicinity of Atlanta is the empty place formerly known as my checking account.  Please God, don't let anything bad happen to us for a while. I've told the kids that Christmas will be very tight.  I have a feeling they don't really believe me.  What can we do instead?  We can have LARD!

I'm sorry - that was really random.  But something about that picture makes me giggle.  A lot.

I got a replacement credit card (speaking of money, HA!) that has a picture of a cat I used to have on it.  You've seen the picture - it's my avitar.  Sam was the finest cat I ever had.  I've never had a cat that loved me like she did.  She was the BEST.  She was my girl.

And I'm tatting and tatting Christmas presents and ornaments and planning for Thanksgiving.  I have a 23 lb. turkey in my freezer right now, the biggest I could find for cheap.  We always have a bunch of folks come to our house for Thanksgiving, lots of friends and relatives.  We eat on the fine china, so I need to polish some silver soon.   I make a good Southern meal, with roast turkey and cornbread dressing (no stuffing!), rice with giblet gravy (South Carolina natives have rice instead of potaoes), green beans, cranberry jelly, sweet potato casserole, lotsa other veggies, pumpkin bread, and whatever else I can throw out there.  My guests usually bring some dessert, which we eat later, 'cause folks are too full after eating third helpings. 

The Stooges are salivating at the thought of Thanksgiving.  They lurve my turkey and dressing.  And I have to say, I make some damn fine dressing.  Mmm.  I can't wait either.

And Thanksgiving means I get some time off from work!!!! Yea!  I need it!

Ow.  I just moved my OLD shoulder wrong.  Best go rest it.

Mid-week miscellany

Curly had a great time singing at his concert last week.  It was a good day for him.  All the girls screamed.

Curly had a rough day today.  He had some issues in school and ended up with 2 days of in-school suspension.  The really bad part is that this offense may mean he can't go to the alternative high school program he wants too.  He was really upset when I came home today.  Fortunately, I had to come home early to take him to his therapist, and Curly was in a better mood after his hour of therapy.  Whew.  Disaster averted - for now.

DH is in Huntsville for the week, again.  Whee! The kitties love it when he's gone.  They love his side of the bed.

DH will get his turn with the Stooges next week.  He's on vacation then while the younger two are out of school. 

I'm tatting lots of Christmas presents, keeping my fingers busy on the train.  I see lots of interesting things on the train.  Today, I saw a guy wearing these wierd pointed, almost elfin shoes.  They were seamed straight up the front from the toe to the ankle.

Tomorrow I have to go to the orthopod.  I may have torn my rotator cuff in my left shoulder.  It hurts a lot - and I have a very high pain tolerance.  So I'll go and get irradiated tomorrow, at least the shoulder.  I always check out the X-rays myself.  I've gotten very good at reading them.  Lots of practice with the Stooges.

And Moe likes the chickens - especially the little red hen!  She's very soft...

Another necklace

I'm making some Christmas presents.  I liked the necklace I made for myself so much that I decided to make some for my family.  Here's the latest:

It's done in navy Lizbeth thread, size 20, with two types of silver glass beads and a lobster clasp.  It's about 18 inches long.

I did a lot of work on this on the train, and some folks asked me if I sold them someplace, which I took as a complement.  (No, too much work.)  Larry liked the necklace enough to ask if I would make one for his girlfriend. (Maybe.)

I'm diggin' this one too.  I hope the recipient will like it.

Quick update

It's been pretty busy here at chez Crazy Mom.  Here's a quick rundown on activities.

DH is coming home today after being out of town all week. He left me to ride herd on the Stooges solo.  And I'll do it again next week.  Ugh.

Curly had a big chorus concert on Tuesday night.  It was really quite good.  The kids sang and danced in a lot of numbers.  Some of the performers were really good - one gal gave me chills when she was belting "When You Believe".  Curly had a big solo in the last number, singing Jouney's "Don't Stop Believin'" using the same arrangement used in the pilot episode of Glee.  He did a good job and got a lot of accolades.  Yea, Curly!

The happy times with Curly didn't last.  Wednesday night we had a big row about his chores, which he had disdained for several nights in favor of practicing for the concert.  Seems that now Curly realized that not doing homework (and he's hardly done any homework all term) might make him fail his British Literature class, which he has to have to graduate in May.  I had told him Wednesday morning that I expected to have these chores done by the time I got home that night, and I laid into him when they weren't done.  Curly informed me that doing his homework (in crisis mode) was the most important thing right now, and I was "borderline retarded" for expecting him to do chores at this point.  You know, with his self-made homework crisis and everything.  And when he flat out refused to do the chores, I turned off his cell phone.  Much screaming and yelling ensued.  Good times.

Yesterday I got a happy phone call from the vice principal of the middle school about Moe.  Moe has been horsing around a lot lately.  He likes to get people, including teachers, to high-five him in the halls.  When a teacher didn't high-five him, Moe punched the teacher in the arm.  He didn't hit him hard, but that's not something a kid should do.  The vice principal was really nice about this and described Moe as "not having a mean bone in his body" (and that's true), but she still had to suspend him for one day.  He's home cleaning the house.

*sigh*

We did have an UP moment this week.  Larry took his EMT-I exam last Friday. He took it once before, and didn't pass.  (An EMT-I is one of the guys in the ambulance, one certification below paramedic.) Larry got word yesterday that he passed the written exam!  This exam has a high fail rate, 60-70% failing.  He's got to go a take the hands-on portion, which somehow they didn't have a record of him taking before (which he did - and passed) but that's not a problem to take again.  So, soon Larry can go get a real job, one that pays enough to actually support himself.  The big hospital in Atlanta, Grady, is hiring at this level.  I hope he gets a job soon.  I'm excited for him.  Go Larry!

Work is yuck, but I've had a productive week.  My boss has not had time to deal with my problem employee, but I hope to have that resolved soon.  I've been humping it on the job, churning out tons of documentation and reports and solving a lot of problems.  Believe me, they get their pound of flesh.

Found out this week I could be laid off in July.  There's a real possibility that 25-30% of my company will be cut then, due to the economy and funding issues.  I can't think about that right now.  Can't go there.

I'm tatting Christmas ornaments and another necklace.  This one's a Christmas present for a sister, done in navy thread with two kinds of silver beads.  Pictures coming...

Oh - don't forget about LadyShuttleMaker's latest giveaway.  She's giving away a beautiful watercolor that she painted!  Check it out!

Tomorrow - taking Curly to his psychiatrist, always a favorite.  Woo-hoo!

Daddy

Two years ago today, my father died.

Daddy lived an incredibly full and productive life, the kind that most only dream of. He was a minister with multiple degrees, a teacher, a writer, a counselor, a storyteller, a wit, an earthy guy, an athlete, a friend. And he was my father. Not always a good parent, but he tried hard. And the older he got, the harder he tried. He suffered with depression and heart disease. The heart disease was especially tough on him – he was so used to doing and was incredibly frustrated when his body wouldn’t let him anymore.

One thing I was especially grateful for was my relationship with my father when he died.  I had spent a lot of time in my 20's and 30's being angry at him, but after a while I realized I was just nursing my anger. I couldn't even remember what I was angry about.  So I became a grownup and let that go.  Daddy could still annoy me, but the annoyance was momentary and didn't build up.  And he and I developed a fine relationship.  We were good with each other, as he was with all of my siblings.  There was nothing left unsaid in the end; we said "I love you." often and enjoyed being with each other.  Not everyone gets that blessing.

Daddy died in his own home, in his own bed, with his wife of almost 52 years by his side. We should all be so lucky.

Many people from all over came for the funeral. There was standing room only in the church. At the reception afterwards, his friends and family got up to give speak about my father and the difference he had made in their lives.. Here is the little tribute I gave for my Daddy that day.

I’d like to read for you scripture, not from the Bible, but from the Apochrypha.

Ecclesiasticus 44:1-15

1 Let us now praise famous men, and our fathers that begat us.
2 The Lord hath wrought great glory by them through his great power from the beginning.
3 Such as did bear rule in their kingdoms, men renowned for their power, giving counsel by their understanding, and declaring prophecies:
4 Leaders of the people by their counsels, and by their knowledge of learning meet for the people, wise and eloquent are their instructions:
5 Such as found out musical tunes, and recited verses in writing:
6 Rich men furnished with ability, living peaceably in their habitations:
7 All these were honoured in their generations, and were the glory of their times.
8 There be of them, that have left a name behind them, that their praises might be reported.
9 And some there be, which have no memorial; who are perished, as though they had never been; and are become as though they had never been born; and their children after them.
10 But these were merciful men, whose righteousness hath not been forgotten.
11 With their seed shall continually remain a good inheritance, and their children are within the covenant.
12 Their seed standeth fast, and their children for their sakes.
13 Their seed shall remain for ever, and their glory shall not be blotted out.
14 Their bodies are buried in peace; but their name liveth for evermore.
15 The people will tell of their wisdom, and the congregation will shew forth their praise.

I am my father’s daughter.

It was not always easy to grow up as the daughter of such a man as my father. When you are a teen, you do not which to be associated with your parents, particularly when that parent is someone with such a large personality and presence and authority as my father. He was a person of enormous character and influence. He was larger than life, a force of nature. Daddy could change to dynamics of a room just by entering it. His personality and his charm would sweep through like a great torrent, engulfing all who encountered him.

Daddy never met a stranger; he made friends everywhere. Mom used to say he made converts. Nothing pleased my father more than talking to people. And he made converts every place he was, from the grocery store lines to his congregants to civic leaders to hospital staff to motorcycle riders (when he retired he was tickled to have the motorcycle guys as a new group of buddies!) – everyone was swept up in his charm and love of people. Daddy loved listening to people and hearing their story - that really gave him such a kick. And he was a great storyteller and an amazing, gifted, charismatic speaker. When I was searching for a church, I had a terrible time because I compared the preaching to the high bar that Daddy set – and no one could come close. I don’t know how he could write and preach such wonderful sermons week after week. But that was Daddy.

As my father’s daughter, I learned some important skills – including how to drink, how to swear, how to play poker (I won all his money that night), and how to tell a dirty joke. He liked a good joke, and loved to share slyly a joke or a story that folks would not expect a minister to tell.

Daddy also loved music and literature and would sometimes modify things to suit his purposes. When I was a child, as his birthday would approach in late fall, Daddy would borrow from The Fantastics and go around the house singing, “Try to remember the eighth of December, it’s my birthday!” While he was being rolled away to his second round of bypass surgery following his big heart attack, he was singing “My Way”. We frequently had music playing in the house when I was a kid – Harry Belafonte, Joan Baez, Simon and Garfunkle, classical pieces – a big variety.

And he loved the spoken word. During my middle school years, he was particularly fond of listening to Dylan Thomas read his own prose and poetry. So I want to read to you the Dylan Thomas poem that was a favorite of Daddy’s, and of mine. It speaks to Daddy’s struggle with heart disease and depression. He hated being sick so much, and he fought it so hard.

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

I am proud, grateful  - and blessed  - to be my father’s daughter.

I miss you, Daddy. I’ll see you again in heaven.

New necklace

I whipped up this little goodie this week. mostly while riding the train.  (See, I use my time wisely.)

It's super simple - I tatted it in DMC Perle 8 with size 10 glass beads and a magnetic clasp.  The pendant is one I found at Michael's - it's by Blue Moon. 

The basic pattern is R 4-4-4-4, with a little bead at the top of the ring.  The chain is 4-4, with a bead in the only picot.  Too simple for words.  I did use a SCMR to attach the pendant - all done with chains of 4 ds separated by a bead, until it was long enough to attach the pendant.  True confessions - I took the ball thread off the shuttle here and threaded it through the hole in the pendant before closing the SCMR.  I am not as fine a tatter as Queen Jane, who I'm sure would have come to a better solution.

I'm very pleased with my necklace.  It's very light and super cute. I wore it to church this morning, and on the way there I said, "I'm really diggin' my new necklace."  Moe said, "It's a good thing it's not diggin' into your neck."  Hee.

In which there is frostbite and the urge to smite

So Larry has this new job where he works in a warehouse.  Usually he's telling a bunch on non-English speaking guys what to do, but sometimes he has to do the work.  On Thursday, he had to deal with a forklift problem.  Seems that the forklift was out of fuel and had to be changed out.

And Larry got right on this.  Sans gloves, of course, because he is 21 and his blood is not supplying his brain so much as other things.  (Mostly the one other thing.)  But he's trying. 

Question - did you know that many forklifts run off of liquid propane?  Neither did I. 

Larry was changing out the tank to put a new one on. He thought he had closed the valves down.  Apparently he didn't close them all the way, because when he pulled the hoses off, the liquid propane sprayed out all over his hand and arm.

Liquid propane is a liquid because it's frozen.  Very.very cold.  Larry's little fingers got very very cold too.  Fortunately, he was wearing a long sleeved shirt, so the only bare flesh affected was his fingers.

At first it just hurt and his fingers looked kinda white.  But by yesterday, they were really hurting.  So Larry trucked himself over to an urgent care facility and had his fingers looked at.

Diagnosis - first and second degree frostbite on his thumb and first two fingers.  Ow.  Pretty impressive for the middle of fall in Georgia.  I'll bet the doctors here don't see much frostbite - must have been a novelty to them.

So now's Larry's got silvadene creme and some bandages for those appendages, plus painkiller.  Frostbite is more like a burn than anything.  He's not griping too much - mostly about the fact that he'a lefty and is now having trouble typing.

(If you look at the picture above, you'll see an issue of Bony magazine in the background of the urgent care place.  Hee.)

On to part two - the urge to smite.

Strangely enough, this does not involve one of my children.  I know that seems hard to believe, but it's true.

I manage a group of IT folks.  I'm a extrovert, a rare breed in the IT world.  This also means I have pretty good people skills - hence, the management job.  Normally, managing is pushing paper and dealing with my user community, along with technical issues.  But sometimes other things crop up.  And I have an on-going problem child in my employ.

Said Problem Child (PC) is a contract employee, not a regular full time person.  She is very young - and she has a humongous chip on her shoulder.  She gets away with this because her mother is very close friends with my boss, therefore she is somewhat protected.

PC is not a bad worker.  She's quite good at her job - no complaints there.  But she does not communicate well.  One of the things we have to do is document things we do on our job, regular functions.  This is in case something happens (like illness), someone will be able to read the doc and perform that needed function.  PC does a particular function that I need real documentation on - something in a Word document, not scribbled on a piece of paper.  PC is very capable of doing this.  I've asked for this doc on many, many occasions with no luck, and I asked for it again this week.  And she again flat out refused to give it to me, telling me to talk to my boss about it.

PC does not recognize that I am her supervisor.  Since she is not a full time employee, I can't write her up.  And since her mama is friends with my boss, I'm screwed.  I have no leverage.

And - get this - she thinks my repeated requests for this are out of line and she is justified in refusing.

Plus, she deliberately mispronounces my name.  Grrr.  Fingernails on the chalkboard grrr.

So, now we come to the urge to smite.  Hard.  Do you see what I mean?

(Actually, most of Friday I just wanted to bash my head on my desk repeatedly.)

Then I thought about one of my favorite cartoons.  What would the Dilbert characters do about this?

Hmmm.

So, if no one was watching, could I smite PC and put her out of my misery?  Push her down the stairs?  Would that be "wrong"?  If Helen Keller was alone in the forest, and a tree fell, would it make a noise?

Alas, common sense prevailed.  And I'll have to take this issue up with my boss on Monday.  Which should make for a FUN day.

Crazy Mom's Bookmark Three Ways

I've got a new tatted bookmark pattern for you.  I've done it a ton of times.  It's simple, all rings and chains.

I tatted this in Lizbeth size 20.  It tatted up to just over six inches.

The pattern is designed to be tatted three different ways.

Here are the variations - going from fluffy to smooth.

Want to tat it?  My pattern is here.

It looks good with a ribbon through it, too.

Tip - if you tat this bookmark with an odd number of rings on each side, the ribbon looks better, finishing and ending on the same side.

Enjoy!

Yet another giveaway

This time it's a birthday giveaway.  Heather, of The Tarnished Tatter, is having a birthday celebration of her 33rd birthday.  Gosh. you're just a spring chick, Miss Heather.

She's giving away some cool stuff.  Three prizes - two shuttles and a goodie bag.  I'll bet the goodie bag has some of her pretty HDT in it - and I'm an HDT addict.  Gots to have it!!

Do you want to win?  Head over to Heather's place right now and enter!

On another note - I saw this gummie bear that you can purchase. 

Something about it is very disturbing.  Creepy.  Makes me go ewww.