The Last Laugh

Whose laughing now, bird!!

I got home from work yesterday and pulled Mr. Turkey from his brine soak. Then I stuffed his bum with stuffing. (You take things out and then you put them back in, really seems like a lot of in and out business for one bird - not a word Coffey, not one word!) 

I popped him into a bag (thought briefly about dumping the body in the river) and threw him in the oven. 

Outside a storm was brewing. Thunder clapped and the lights flickered. I figured that must be a luck omen. 

Less than three hours later I removed the 14 pound bird from the oven looking all browned and pretty. I wish that I had taken the photo before I cut him open to make sure he was done, but you get the idea!

Bath Time with Mr. Turkey

I had round two with Mr. Turkey last night. I pulled him out of the bag and gave him a bath. (Did you know it comes with cooking directions written on the bag and I didn’t need to peruse ehow and read all those articles on turkey baking?)

I pulled out that nasty little innards sack. I’m almost afraid to ask because I’m pretty sure one of my readers will know the answer and I’m not entirely sure I’m prepared to hear that answer, but WHY do they put that inside the bird?? Nobody wants it.

That was the easy part. Then I had to pull the bird’s neck out of its butt. This is the part that I had a hard time with. I stopped and hit the bottle of Emergency Tequila in the freezer a couple of times.  Then I reached up the bird’s bum and groped around inside of there for a while until I got a hold of something I thought could be the neck. I pulled, and I pulled. How do they get it up there anyway??? Finally, I freed the neck. Slippery little sucker! Slipped right through my hands and fell onto the floor. When I got my screams down to a minimum I closed my eyes and picked the neck up off the floor and quickly threw it away. Yuck! I hit the Emergency Tequila again for good measure.

I decided to brine Mr. Turkey.

That didn’t go so well either.

I prepared the brine. Half way through I realized I didn’t have enough sugar or salt so I had to go to the store (again) for the ingredients.

Once I had the brine completed I dumped it over Mr. Turkey. I stood there looking at the dripping wet bird for a moment, thinking: That doesn’t seem right.

I reread the directions and saw that I had missed a key word: Soak. I was supposed to soak the bird in the brine as in bath water soak, not wet tee-shirt soak. Okay.

I hit the Emergency Tequila again and prepared another brine concoction.

Now I realized I wasn’t sure I had container big enough to soak Mr. Turkey. What the heck. I just got the biggest pot I had and figured it would have to do.

I dropped Mr. Turkey on his would-be head into the brine filled pot. There was a splash!! A big splash!! I soon realized I was standing in a puddle of brine. I watched helplessly as the brine spilled over the edges of my too-small pot.

I hit the Emergency Tequila again.

By then, Mr. Turkey looked rather comfortable in his brine bath with only a small portion of his would-be feet sticking out.

I laid him to rest in the fridge and….

Well, I wish I could tell you what happened after that, but you see, I don’t rightly recall.

All I know is that I woke up naked from my waist down with the worst headache I’ve ever had! It hurt to move my eyes. Extremely painful.

I stopped at the store to get coffee and chocolate milk. Sparrow once told me that chocolate milk was a great hangover cure. I never had to try it until today. It works!! It works like a magic wand!!

As for Mr. Turkey, well, I’m sure we’ll work things out once he tells me what happened to my pants!

Chickening Out with Mr. Turkey

I chickened out on the turkey dinner. The turkey seemed like too much of a risk when we were expecting dinner guests, so I went with salmon and steak instead. It was delicious. I grilled the salmon with a molasses sauce I found on allrecipes.com and it was super yummy.

Of course, I had to place an emergency call into Sparrow from the spice aisle in the grocery store because I couldn’t find grated lemon peel in a bottle. (She directed me to the produce section and explained what needed to be done.) Turns out, it’s exactly what it sounds like and I actually had to buy a lemon and grate the peel! Go figure!

Minute Man was late and the food got cold. I suppose that’s my fault though, because I know that Minute Man is traditionally late for almost everything. I should have planned accordingly, but it wasn’t a big deal. I just popped the dishes in the microwave for a minute or two and we were back in the game!

Everyone seemed to enjoy dinner, but I swear over the dinner conversation I could hear Mr. Turkey laughing from inside the fridge.

Mr. Turkey may have won this round, but I DO plan on having a face off with him later this week. I still plan on roasting that sucker! Tonight, if I’m not too exhausted from work I’m going to um... what’s that term? ...  Blaze him? Baste him? No!! Brine him! Yep, I’m going to Brine him. (All turkeys are male right?) We’ll see whose laughing then, Mr. Turkey!!

Inspired (To Live By My Own Rules!)

Turns out, I’m Inspirational!! Many thanks to Kelly over at PSYCHO CARNIVAL for bestowing me with this fine award! Kelly is actually quite an inspirational fellow himself. This guy can literally write about nothing and still make you laugh out loud. He also has a very insightful and serious side that comes out every once in a while too. However, more often than not I read something so crude there that I have to step back from my laptop screaming “My eyes! My eyes! Oh, my eyes!!” and then I sit down and continue to read his crude and borderline downright offensive material. The man knows no limits!

Two of my favorite posts by this blogger are Titillating Tales of Walmart and Ruining a Viagra Moment. This is Riveting material folks!

Seeing this is an Inspiration Award, I thought, even though I’m not required to, that I would share something personal from my life that I find inspirational. There is hardly anything that I find more inspiring than Girl Child.

One day when she was just four years old I found her sitting on the couch staring at the wall. Now, for those of you that have children you know this is not normal and ample reason for concern. I stopped in my tracks and studied her for a moment.

“Are you okay?” I asked her.

“Yeah,” she answered.

“Are you tired?” I asked.

“No,” she replied.

“Hungry?” I asked.

“No,” she answered again.

“Well, what are you doing?” I inquired, completely baffled.

“I was just thinking about Jesus,” she answered. “… and God,” she added matter-of-factly.

That was the first time I felt smaller than a four year old.

Now it is my duty to name some fellow bloggers I find inspirational. I think this will be difficult because I find everyone here special in their own little way, so I’ll try to name some people that haven’t before.

Not So Simply Single – This is one classy lady with balls the size of Texas, which must be pretty tricky seeing she lives on an island. I really admire her because she’s obviously living life to the fullest and taking risks that most of us only dream about.

My Beautiful Disaster – This gal can do some pretty sick things with a camera and photo shop. Her page is super creative and I also love the fact that she steps outside herself and features other people’s stories in her blog on a regular basis.

The Hot Mess Chronicles – If I used one word to describe this blogger it would be: Talented! Cake Betch is very seriously impressive with her own drawings and outrageous sense of humor. She’s actually brought tears of laughter to my eyes on more than one occasion.

                

Although the rules state that I’m supposed to pick ten bloggers to forward this on to, I’m sticking with three because I make the rules up as I go and that’s the way I roll! I know some people here don’t like threes but I’m going to argue that it’s appropriate today because it represents the Trinity of the Father, The Ghost and The Holy Spirit.

I’m really going to drive it home with the three images I felt best represented myself when I searched "inspirational" in Photo Bucket. (Again living by my own rules!)

I’m supposed to pick some of my most inspiring posts, but I’m of the humble sort so I’ll just pick one. I chose this one because it asks some pretty tough questions and even upon rereading it puts things in perspective for me and inspires me to stay strong: Who Will You Count On?

The Official Rules (should you care to follow them):

1. Thank and link back to the person who awarded this to you.

2. Link posts by you and ten fellow bloggers that you find inspirational.

3. Forward the award to those ten fellow bloggers.

Easter Massacre

There will be no Easter dinner for me this year as I will be working most of the day. The restaurant at the Inn will be extremely busy and I’ll be slaving away over the press making sure the white linens are ironed to perfection.

I thought I would celebrate Easter Canadian style this year because Girl Child will be at home then, and I can take the entire day off to cook turkey. This will be my first attempt at preparing a turkey alone.

Our first year in the house, The Minute Man and I decided to host Thanksgiving. He walked me through the process, but I didn’t handle it very well.

First of all, I was a little surprised to find the bird’s severed neck stuck up inside its ass. When Minute Man pulled it out, I felt my stomach flip over and I had to look away. Then I made the mistake of asking why it was there. Let’s just say, I didn’t find the answer to my liking.

By then I was starting to turn green, but I stood by his side and watched him grind spices into the bird’s backside until I felt my own skin growing raw. It wasn’t until Minute Man plucked a stray feather out of the bird’s flesh that I went running for the bathroom and stayed there for the better part of the day.

So it’s understandable that I’m having some apprehension about tomorrow. I’m pretty certain that Minute Man won’t be around to help me this time. I hope that he will be there tomorrow, but I’m not sure what to expect. I usually only see him for ten or twenty minutes a day now. In a lot of ways it’s like we’re already divorced.

I could have gone with ham but after hearing the latest conversation piece drift out of the laundry room at work, I decided I couldn’t do it.

Billy: “I can’t eat ham because it reminds me of Texas Chainsaw Massacre.”

Matt: “How’s that?”

Billy: “It looks too much like a human thigh after it’ been sliced in half.”

You Won't Feel a Thing....

I hit my head pretty hard today and I’ve been shooting tequila so I’m not sure how this post will come out but I promise it will be interesting.

In recent posts, I’ve talked about the various aspects of my job that I enjoy. One such aspect that I have failed to mention is the people I work with.

Every day I go into work I engage in the most interesting conversations. To highlight a few:

There was that time where the massage therapist had to stop midway through the session because the man that had come in with his wife for a couple’s massage had started to “massage” himself in an inappropriate manner.

The time that some lady got so wasted that she passed out in the lobby and nobody could wake her up, so somebody put her on a luggage cart and wheeled her to her guest room.

The lady that ate her lobster with too much butter and crapped her seat in the dining room. Oh, the stories go on and on.

And then there are the conversations amongst the co-workers there that stick with you and make you chuckle throughout the day.

I always hear the most interesting conversations come out of the laundry room. My office sits directly across from this room and the pieces of conversation that drift across the hallway are often priceless.

One of my favorites:

The sounds of tortured gagging fill the laundry. My first reaction is concern for safety, so I rush in to make sure nobody had inhaled any dangerous chemicals.

Chad is red in the face clutching his throat and the other two are doubled over laughing, one actually has tears running down his face.

“What happened in here?” I demanded to know.

It took Matt a few minutes to collect himself and wipe away the tears.

“We were folding a sheet and when we snapped it in the air, a public hair flew off it and landed in Chad’s mouth!”

I look at Chad. He was still gagging, but nodding vigorously.

“You okay?” I asked trying desperately to keep a straight face.

“I swallowed it,” he choked.

(I had to walk away.)

Most recently, I engaged in a conversation about Matt’s new puppy. They hadn’t been able to decide on a name for it just yet so they adopted the temporary name of Sir Piss Alots.

I learned that it was a Doberman.

Billy asked, “Are you going to get it’s ears chopped?”

WHAT?? People do this??

“We haven‘t decided yet,” said Matt.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“People have to cut their ears to get them to stand up in the traditional Doberman point,” Billy explained, indicating his meaning by making little devil horns on top of his head with pointed fingers.

“How cruel!” I said. “That’s terrible! Don’t do it, Matt!”

“It’s not like they feel it,” Matt said. “They do it when they’re still puppies so they don’t feel it.”

“That’s crazy!” I said outraged. “That’s just something people say. Like when they say that worms can’t really feel the hook when you stick it in. They feel it! You see them squirming? Oh yeah! They feel it!!”

Now Billy is twisting about at the hips with his hands held limp at the wrist in front of him, fingers twitching erratically.

“They do!” he agreed.

“No they don’t!” Matt argued.

“Matt, they cut a big chunk of flesh out of the dog’s ear,” said Billy. “Like this big…”

Billy holds up his hands indicating the size of a small cookie.

“You really don’t think they feel that?” Billy asked.

“No, their nerve endings aren’t completely developed yet,” Matt defended himself.

“Well, no listen Billy, young Matthew here might have a point,” I said sarcastically. “You probably didn’t feel anything when they circumcised you when you were a baby because your nerve endings hadn’t completely developed yet, right Matt?”

Matthew frowned.

“Yeah, I mean I’m sure if they decided when you were born that you didn’t really need thumbs you wouldn’t feel anything if they hacked them off,” agreed Billy. “Cutting part of a dog’s ears out is like somebody cutting off your nose and saying ‘There! That looks better!’”

Just then the towels in the dryer stop turning.

“It’s your turn to get them,” Billy says.

“I don’t want to,” said Matthew. “I always get static zapped!”

“Come on, Matt!” Billy said. “It will be just like getting a dog’s ears clipped. You won’t feel a thing!!”

Billy and I look at each other and burst out in laughter.

So what do you think? Do dog’s feel it when people decide to cut their ears or tails off? Do worms feel the hook?

Vote here!
　
　

My New Wheels!

I did something a little spontaneous and went out and bought a car with my BF yesterday. A co-worker of mine sent us to this dealership that his friend worked at and said we would be in good hands. Armed with the knowledge that Minute Man had taught me about purchasing a vehicle I ventured out to the dealership singing his mantra happily in my head: Don't show too much excitement, don't go home with anything on the first date and let them make the first move.

I was doing good. I drove while Sparrow pushed all the buttons and flossed her teeth with any bare wires that dared reveal themselves to her inquisitive eye.

I drove a Chevy Malibu that I liked and a Monte Carlo that was fun to look at and a Sebring that made me feel like I aged forty years in one afternoon. I was ready to leave the dealership when they brought out the shiny black Chevy Impala with all the bells and whistles.

They had used the automatic car starty button and she was already fully alive when I saw her. The don't buy, don't show mantra flew out of my head and was engulfed in the hypnotic purr of the 6 cylinder engine dual exhaust shining black beauty that sat before me.

I became distantly aware of a small private party starting in the seat of my pants. I was shaking and quivering with excitement. I had butterflies in my chest. The leather interior beckoned me to take my clothes off and coat my body in cooking spray. Oh, the wonderful, wonderful things that car did to me!!

I tried to play it cool, but it was too late. A small puddle of drool landed on the salesman's hand as he extended the keys to me. A wicked smile curled from both corners of my lips and I murmured something unintelligible as I snatched the keys away from his grasp.

Once Sparrow and I had her a safe distance away from the dealership, I stomped the pedal. The car excelled sending my head back against the seat with a gentle thump. I wanted to thump her back! I took her the wrong way through a drive through window and squealed her tires as I circled a 180 and tore out of the parking lot.

This car was Sexy!!

She was just broken in enough for me to afford. A 2007 with 62,000 miles put her just within my budget's reach and before I knew it I was signing the papers. (Paying $1,500 less than blue book value)

I sent Minute Man a text informing him I had just found my car.

Initially he didn't take it very well, stating that I must have SOS (Shiny Object Syndrome) because I had totally lost sight of the big picture. I quickly retorted that he must have JSS (Jealous Spouse Syndrome) because my car was sexier than his.

When I got home Minute Man went up one side of me and down the other. I guess, looking back on it, I can see how his feelings may have been a little hurt. He took time to take me under his wing and show me the tricks of the trade and I totally disregarded everything he said and did what I wanted anyway.

We smoothed things over this morning when I took the car to our regular mechanic who we both know and trust. Our mechanic said that I did a great job picking out a car and that I had definitely "selected a winner!" The only thing he found wrong with it were the rear tires were a little worn and he suggested I get an alignment done.

Now feast your eyes on this, my beautiful dark dream machine:

Something Dependable

Today I began the search for a new vehicle. I’m a Chevy girl through and through, so although I’m not excluding anything at this point, I sort of have my heart set on a Chevy.

My first car was a 1980 Monte Carlo. (In case there was any doubt, now you all now for sure I’m a super cool bad ass!)



I really like the idea of getting an Impala.

The thing is, I’m pretty inexperienced at car shopping and my mother is still enforcing the old fashion stipulations that a woman will get taken for a ride (pardon the expression) if she attempts to buy a car without a man’s supervision.

Seeing this fear has been pretty deeply embedded in my psyche, I automatically began to panic. Given the current condition of my marriage, I wasn’t sure if The Minute Man would help me. (Especially after my shady behavior yesterday - more on that later… maybe.)

There are a couple people I know that would have jumped at the opportunity to come to my aid. (Since the wedding ring has come off I’ve been feeling more and more like the freshest piece of grade A steak to hit the meat market!) I didn’t want their help though. I really wanted Minute Man to be there for me, for once, when I really needed him.

It was a pretty serious gamble asking him for help. If he said no, I would be crushed. If he said yes, there would be no way I could really trust that he would follow through. So unreliable that one!

I did ask him and he did say yes - and I expressed my gratitude amply this morning before we rolled out of bed. There was a nail biting moment when he fell asleep on the couch right before we were due to leave, but I sat on his knees until he screamed in agony groaned in protest and finally agreed to leave.

I spent the entire afternoon test driving vehicles while he coached me on what to say and what not say to the sales man. (To my dismay he instructed me not to wear the low cut cleavage material I had been determined to wear, so my confidence level was not as high as it could have been.)

I listened intently to his instructions, which pretty much broke down into three rules:

- Don’t show too much excitement if you see something you like.
- Don’t tell him how much you are willing to spend.
- Let him make the first move

"So it's like dating right?" I asked.

He just rolled his eyes.

Then I listened to a painfully accurate account of how I blew the sale of our antique claw foot tub.

“Listen, I don’t want a repeat of what happened when we bought that tub,” said Minute Man. “I don’t want to have to give you any hand signals or death glares this time.”

When we met with the sales man, one of the first questions he asked me was: What was I looking for?

"Something dependable," I answered.

The first car I took out was a Ford Focus (sporty coupe). The sales man asked me what I thought and I did my best to follow Minute Man's instructions.

"Well, I like the noise the blinker makes and I really like the fact that I have a pair of shoes at home that matches the interior, so I guess it was okay."

(I wish there were words to describe the look on that guy's face!)

I ended up liking a 2008 Mercury Milan and a 2007 Ford Fusion. The Fusion only had 17,000 miles on it and the Milan had 25,000. Both were around sitting just under $13,000 with a monthly payment of $200ish.

I would feel good about a monthly payment of $150ish, but I guess I can be flexible if I find something I really like.

After hours at the dealership, it became apparent to me that Minute Man had put off many of the tasks he had planned to take care of at his job today.

I have to admit that felt pretty good. For months I’ve been second to his job and today he put me first. Today, when I really needed him, he was there.

I didn’t go home with a new car, but I did go home with something I knew I could depend on.

Ode to My Car

Dear Little Red Chevy:

So I guess this is finally good-bye. I only wish that you had been honest with me back in December when you were having second thoughts about whether to continue our travels together. Do you remember that heart to heart talk we had that night in the garage parking lot? I told you I wasn't ready to give up on you. I gave you all my money. You in return, promised not to let me down. I didn't care that all my friends laughed at you and called you and old piece of shit that wasn't worth a new head gasket.

Sure we had some rough times. Remember when I lost control of you after that asshole clipped our ass and we crossed four lanes of on coming traffic together? I don't know who screamed louder me or your tires! I know that ended badly for you, but if you hadn't hit that cement divider we would have rolled over in that ditch and that would surely have been the end for both of us!

They told me you were totalled then, but I still saw a life together and I made that guys insurance pay to resurrect you. You might have rather been laid to rest, but you came back good as new!

Then there was that time that your engine blew and you left me stranded in the middle of the God forsaken highway? You remember that one? Yeah, you thought that was pretty funny huh? Obviously, you've never had to walk six miles in flipflops and a skirt that flew up your backside every time a trucker blew past.

That's okay. I had the last laugh then when I decided to have your engine replaced with a used one I found at a junk yard. Served you right!

We had more good times after that too. Remember the time we drove over to my ex's house so I could take a giant piss on his front stairs? When I saw the lights come on inside his house I ran to you with my pants around my ankles. I drove you home laughing so hard I could barely see straight.

If I had known I wasn't going to be able to see that tree through my tears I would've pulled over somewhere to collect myself. No big deal. It was just a mere flesh wound! You survived with a few minor scratches! Looking back on that night I realize my actions may have been a little immature, but I regret nothing!

The only thing I regret is that head gasket! Damn you! Why didn't you tell me that your cat was junk too and that replacing the head gasket wouldn't do any good??? WHY? I thought we had an understanding???

Now I have no money for a new car. I only have you, worthless, pathetic, cruel and penniless you! I guess you had the last laugh after all!

Oh fuck you car!

10 Things and a Baby

It's been a while since I have received a bloggy award. I'm grateful to Mollie at OK in UK for passing it on to me because I've been wanting to post a blog but I have too many things running through my head to just sit down and pick one to write about. Now I have this!



Mollie is definitely one of my favorite bloggers so the feeling is mutual. No matter how crumby my day has been I can count on her for a smile. Hearing about her roughing it in a new country that is foreign to her is always fascinating to me. I think she must be one brave little cookie! If you haven't already, go pay her a visit and give her some international support!

Now I must share 10 things. The rules do not specify what kind of things so I'm going completely random on this one.

1) I love this guy's smile. Honestly, it takes my breath away EVERY time he smiles at me.
(You have to admit it's a pretty great smile.)

 

2) Speaking of smiles, I got a really great compliment yesterday. As I walked by three men gathered in the hallway at work, I couldn't help but notice that they all stopped talking as I approach. Being naturally paranoid this really Freaked Me Out.

"Is this a secret meeting?" I asked them.

"No, why?" one of them asked.

"I couldn't help but notice you all got quiet when I approached."

"When a man sees a woamn smile like that it renders him speechless," said another.

Wow. Now that could have been a total cover up but it worked! I walked away blushing and giggling to myself.

3) I've vowed to take another 21 Day Chopra Meditation Challenge which starts in a couple days. Those of you that have been following my blog know this only the second time I've attempted this.

4) I think I'm going to make home made Easter Egg cards this year. I love crafts!

5) This week I am going to attempt to make my first quiche. I love to bake too!

6)  I have what some people have referred to as a unique sense of style.

7) I just watched Practical Magic for my first time this week and I think it's my new favorite movie. Every girl should be so lucky as to have someone that will help them bury an abusive lover in the back yard. (Luckily I've never had that problem, but if I did I know Sparrow would help me!)

8) I just started using the Lose It ap on my i-phone. So far I've lost 3 pounds. I find it only works when you're honest about what you consume. If you say you only ingested 1,000 calories when you really ingested around 1,800 you don't lose weight. It seems to be a fool proof tool. I've yet to find a loop hole here.

9) My favorite cereal is Lucky Charms. What's yours?

10) I was recently trusted to hold a baby and I didn't drop it or let it choke. (I'm an inexperienced baby holder.)

Now I shall list just some of MY favorite blogs.

1) Bent Objects - You have have a sense of humor and an artsy side, you'll love this blog too.

2) PSYCHO CARNIVAL - This is one joy ride you'll never forget!

3) Absolutely Narcissism - Nothing is off limits here. Anything goes - bras first usually!



Healing Prayer for Japan

I've been inspired by a fellow blogger. Mollie at OK in UK posted a simple link to an article about Japan's most recent earthquake. I think it's so important to create awareness about what is happening to our planet and to our neighbors in Japan. I received this healing meditation prayer in an email a few weeks ago and was really touched by it. After reading Mollie's blog, I realized this is something I could be sharing to help.

Hello Dear Ones,

I want to share this with you. It is another simple yet powerful action/intention to help in Japan. Many of you know Dr Maseru Emoto he has done the beautiful work with the water crystals. He has put out a call to heal the waters in the reactor and now the ocean being polluted with radiation.

I invite you to do this short prayer/meditation with love not fear. Your fear will not help at all but from a place of love and respect for all life you can make a difference.

Please see below.

Thank you.

 

Is there really nothing else to do?

 

I think there is. During over twenty year research of hado measuring and water crystal photographic technology, I have been witnessing that water can turn positive when it receives pure vibration of human prayer no matter how far away it is.

 

Energy formula of Albert Einstein, E=MC2 really means that Energy = number of people and the square of people’s consciousness.

 

Now is the time to understand the true meaning. Let us all join the prayer ceremony as fellow citizens of the planet earth.   I would like to ask all people, not just in Japan, but all around the world to please help us to find a way out the crisis of this planet!!

The prayer procedure is as follows:

 

“The water of Fukushima Nuclear Plant, we are sorry to make you suffer. Please forgive us.  We thank you, and we love you.” 

 

Please say it aloud or in your mind. Repeat it three times as you put your hands together in a prayer position.

 

This seemed like a simple thing we could all do to help. If it doesn't work, we've lost no more than a moment of time. 

Rainbow and Poopy Pants

Again, I find myself turning to Bloggy Land for feedback in my daily dilemmas. So there’s this girl (why does every great story start that way?) that works for me at the Inn. She – let’s call her Poopy Pants - is married to Mr. Big, the maintenance man here, who I have to work very closely with to ensure the property stays in tip top shape.

Poopy Pants went and got herself knocked up pregnant and went out on maternity leave last August. She was due to return to work in November. When November rolled around my assistant decided it was time for her to retire. (She worked here almost 20 years so I can’t blame her for leaving!)

Poopy Pants was next in line for the promotion, but I hadn’t heard back from her regarding an exact return date. So I called her and asked her if and when she planned on coming back. At that time she told me, “The plan was to come back when she could secure child care,” but she couldn’t tell me when that would happen.

I told her not to worry about it and we could play it by ear. Meanwhile, I still needed an assistant. Over the summer I had hired this gal – let’s call her Rainbow – who had outshined all my other staff members. She was thorough, efficient, reliable and friendly. To me, she clearly stood out as the next available solution.

However, due to the sensitivity of the situation with Poopy Pants, I told Rainbow that she would act as my assistant for a 30 day trial period. I made it clear that if Poopy Pants made a return during that time frame I would have to consider her for the position as well. I thought this was a fair solution. I still think that was a fair solution. I had the full support of upper management to execute that solution.

At the end of the 30 day trial, Rainbow had gone above and beyond the call of duty and I still had not been able to confirm a return date with Poopy Pants. So I made Rainbow’s position official.  

Three months later Poopy Pants finally secures child care and wants to come back. I had room for her so I welcomed her back with open arms. I also took time to explain to her that she would have been my first choice in assistant, but that she was unavailable. She confessed that she was angry about it at first but that she understood. Fine. Great!

Then yesterday she told me that she couldn’t work Saturday’s because she wasn’t getting a full eight hours on those days and Then she suggested that I cut other peoples’ hours to ensure she could work full time because she has seniority over the rest of the staff. Wait a minute. What? Did I miss something? You take off for six months and then expect to come back and get the lead spot on my schedule?? Folks I ask you, is this fair?

Was I supposed to hold her spot indefinitely for six months?

Then Rainbow informs me that she had asked Poopy Pants to wash the windows (a standard procedure) and Poopy Pants refused.

Okay. Now I definitely have a problem. Rainbow is my assistant and she needs to be treated with respect. I need to be able to trust that my entire staff is going to recognize the authority that I have appointed to her. I certainly don’t need to wonder if things are going to fall apart in my absence because instructions are refused to be followed.

As I see it, I have a couple different options:

A) Sit down with Poopy Pants and make it very clear to her that being a team player is a key requirement for the job which she is about to resume and that her seniority was vacant and void when she decided to extend her 6 week maternity leave into a 6 month vacation. Make it very clear that if she is unable to recognize that Rainbow is in charge when I’m not around then she can just not bother showing up for her next shift. Throw in a pink slip to underline my point?

(Keep in mind her husband is like my right hand around there.)

B) Or cut her hours from three days down to two seeing she wants to be selective about which days she is too good for and which days she is not – and hope the message strikes home. Saturday is also the one day a week that I typically take off, so this would also eliminate the worry that she’s refusing to complete assigned tasks in my absence.

C) Or… fire Poopy Pants! (Too harsh?)

Tales from the Fridge

I spent three hours of my only day off cleaning my kitchen - not my fridge though. I'm afraid of that place. In fact, I haven't cleaned it thoroughly in OMG (disgraceful blush) two years. Wait! Let me explain! We were going to replace it! It came with the house and it's old... okay... no good excuse. This is one of my fatal flaws... cleaning out the fridge. However, my fridge cleaning skills have improved slightly over the years. Now I periodically go through it and throw out the expired items. Before.... well, the following story tells all.

It was shortly after Minute Man and I started dating and we had just finished working out at the gym together. He suggested (for the first time) rather than going out to eat we go back to my place and fix dinner. Well, what Minute Man didn't know about me was that I didn't eat very much or very often. I weighed a total of 118 pounds and that was mainly because I drank my more than I ate couldn't afford food.

I tried warning him that I didn't have much in the cupboards, but obviously he underestimated the severity of this statement. "We'll find something," he assured me. I think he must have translated my statement of "I don't have much in the cupboards," into "I don't have anything fancy." I really only had a bottle of vodka and tequila bare necessities stashed in the freezer.

Upon arriving back at my tiny little one bedroom apartment, we conducted a search of the kitchen and uncovered some pasta hidden in the back of the pantry. Great! But then he wanted sauce for the pasta. To my amazement he dislodged some pasta sauce from the side self in my fridge. Let me tell you, I was feeling pretty relieved - until he tried a bite out of the bowl he had prepared.

His face turned from red to green and a tortured look overcame his mouth. He turned and began to spit and gag into my kitchen sink.

"What's the matter?" I asked innocently.

He turned and grabbed the sauce container off the counter and began to examine it.

"Nothing," he croaked. "Only that this pasta expired two years ago!"

Oops.

Did I ever mention, food and me disagree?

Food for Thought...

    Go Ahead, make my day!



Photo from Bent Objects - a fellow blogger! Check it out!