In the summer between my freshman and sophomore years of college, I went back to Garland and found work as a temp. I had a few good assignments, and I rather enjoyed my job. It was great pay for the effort.

One of my favorite assignments was at CapRock Communications. I’m not sure I ever could say with any certainty what it is that the company does, and for a time I think they were defunct, but don’t quote me. That’s the beauty of temp work: I really have no obligation to know what they do. My employer was Dicker Staffing, I followed the rules and worked earnestly wherever I was, and in general I think it was a symbiotic relationship for everyone involved.

My job was to answer phones. If you’ve ever seen Office Space (and if you haven’t, why not, and how do you face every day?) and noticed the girl answering the phones for corporate accounts payable, you know what I did. Instead of “CorporateaccountspayableNinaspeaking…JUST a MOH-ment!” I said, “CapRock Communications, how may I help you?” approximately 800 times per day. (At Eckerd I had time to say, “Thank you for calling Eckerd Pharmacy. This is Blake. How my I help you?”)

You might think this would be boring. It totally wasn’t. They required a break 10 minutes of every hour, and I always relieved someone doing some other job at lunch time. The economy was better then, and I was there to make life easier.

There was a lady in the room with me answering phones, too. She liked to listen to 107.5 The Oasis, Smooth Jazz. I’ve thought of Patricia often and I’m grateful that she introduced me to this station, though as sometimes happens in radio*, it has gone away. Still, every time I hear Al Green, Marvin Gaye, Roberta Flack, anything Motown, I think of how I might have missed out big time without her influence.

I mean that is some great music. So many artists are sampling from or remaking it. And these kids today don’t even know.

*Remember when 94.5 was The Edge, and now it’s 102.1, which was Q102 before JackFM? And 94.9 was Y95? And 99.1 Z-Rock? And how 97.1 KEGL went away and now it’s back? And how now I live in Houston so I should probably stop following DFW stations?

A very happy birthday to my good friend, lovely, smart and funny Rachel (or as Zoe calls her, Ray Chow)! May you have a wonderful year of honor grades, bearded-men viewing, Diet Coke, happy-making music, soccer, ice cream and caramel. I’ll induct you into the Old Lady Club whenever you’re ready. We get discounts on car insurance and become quite sleepy early in the day.

Also, we need more pictures together - how do I have so few?

As her birthday falls during NaBloPoMo, I hope she won’t mind if I digress for the purpose of a post, and because if I get sappy in person she hates it.

I knew Rachel and I would be friends on the first day of the pre-entry program. We chatted from the get-go, and when we merged two groups together (after breaking up for tours or something), I was just about to ask her how her day was going, when she asked me how mine was going.

Rachel is a driving force in my education and a solid friend who both recognizes and tolerates my true crazy. Where else would I get my Northern expression exposure? My favorites: pop (for soda), bag (pronounced “beeag”), and bun (for roll, or any bread you eat on the side of a meal).

For this birthday girl I went to a bar, so you know she’s special.

So I’m kind of on a different 24-hour schedule. Can I still play NaBloPoMo?

There has been no other vomit since last night. Zoe was her usual charming self, even playing peekaboo with our interviewee guest this evening. I spent a whole 10 minutes at the interview social tonight when I went to retrieve said guest. Yay me.

I have a lot to say. Today we had a Global Health Initiative lecture on malnutrition and other problems affecting children around the world. Major bum out. I mean major. It made me want to hug Zoe and never let her go. I’m so thankful that she does not know such things. At the same time, I want to hold all those kids and fix it for them. My heart hurts for them. The pediatrician who spoke said a few times that there’s ONE child in the world. I think that’s true, and especially once you’re a parent. I know that I will use my career to be part of the solution to these problems. That’s the good news. I can help a little bit some day. In the mean time, I feel pretty ineffective and helpless.

It makes me think about why it is that we’re here and they’re there, and not just in any particular geographic location. Kids in this country are born every day. Some go home to capable parents who can feed and love them and keep them safe, while others go to an environment to face atrocities most of us never even imagine. And that’s here. In other countries - war, true poverty, disease, hunger… I’ll never know what puts them there and why. There is no satisfactory answer. Only that it has to change.

There are stages I go through (and probably true for many people), much like grief, when I visit the world’s problems in thought - shock (They’re LIVING LIKE THIS?!), anger (How could this happen? Who is responsible?!), bargaining (Maybe I can adopt all those kids, send money, build a hospital or school…), and extreme sadness. Eventually I get busy enough to be distracted and become complacent, because let’s face it - otherwise I’m a big Debbie Downer, and I’m essentially shaking tiny fists at the Universe. But I will not reach acceptance. There can be no acceptance.

This should serve as a reminder for me to talk about my philosophy about the differences in thought that forms attitudes toward social policy… It’s too late tonight.

Please excuse my tardy and brief post tonight. We were just helping Zoe wind down for the night when she vomited out of nowhere. Twice. She was quite upset to have soiled some clothes. I’m hoping it’s just an isolated incident caused by too greasy a dinner of pizza (forgive me), which she thoroughly enjoyed. She loves a healthy dinner, too, so tomorrow night we’ll be better.

Due to the unavailability of Cheez-It during Joel’s most recent trip to Target, he took a gamble on an unknown box. Target’s own brands rarely disappoint us. Archer Farms is good, and their line of Market Pantry products is generally reliable and less expensive. (Nothing beats HEB for store-brand quality, however.) Plus, they were on sale.

The verdict? Not all baked snack crackers are created equal.

I found the nearly full box on my desk when I got home last night, a big circled “F” written in Sharpie on the front. How bad can they be? I asked. The expiration date is May 2009. I sampled one.

At first bite, they’re crispy, salty, a little less cheesy than Cheez-It, but not entirely unpleasant. Give it about 10 seconds. Then it becomes apparent that you’re experiencing first hand a failed attempt to make off-brand Play-Doh edible. The aftertaste is horrendous. I mean truly awful. I’m pretty sure it’s the worst thing I’ve ever eaten.

As I write this, Joel is staging a hilarious photoshoot. I imagine Market Pantry had a different expectation for their product’s placement.

This morning was kind of awesome. I awoke to a sweet, snuggly baby who showed very little indication of being awake anytime soon. I checked the weather by sight and feeing the window; chilly, and dry, but not for long. No wonder Zoe was still asleep. By the time I washed my face it was raining. I can’t be certain, but odds are good that it rained all day.

I LOVE rain. Growing up we played in the water, usually in the rushing part next to the curb. In the summer, we were always outside and if it started to rain really hard, we would seek shelter in an exciting game-like way or race back home on our bikes. By the time I was old enough to consider the danger of lightning I also knew the statistics of it; well into my adult years and until my illness I remained unconcerned about such unlikely things.

No one expects your hair to look nice on a stormy day, and people put a little extra bustle in their step to arrive at the doors of buildings. Incomers and outgoers trade knowing glances and there’s a camaraderie that feels a little different than the exchange on fair-weather days. Laundry, studying, and movie-watching are highly pleasurable with rain; being indoors (ideally with windows) feels like the best place to be, the same way it does on brutally scorching days, when you’re grateful for modern conveniences and freon.

I like having the warm, sunny weather to contrast, too, but days like today, with a grumbly sky and pattering rain, are deep down my favorite.

Since school started, I have found myself more plentiful. Perhaps it is my all day classes causing me to be more sedentary, or the stress eating, or the decreased breastfeeding while maintaining the same appetite, or perhaps I’m finally old enough that my metabolism is mocking me. Whatever it is, I do not appreciate this unsightly excess accumulating around my middle. I may have mentioned that I read Mastering Cortisol by Marilyn Glenville some time ago. I liked the book a lot and thought it had changed my life. Apparently one has to put those principles into practice to see a change. Weird.

Anyway, I’m a big fan of exercise and its benefits, so I decided to make time for that this week. I walked at least six dedicated miles, and possibly eight. That’s a good start to my deflabbing. It’s also helping me shape up a schedule. Let’s hope I keep it up this week.

A long while ago I was tagged by my friend Kerri to tell six quirky things about me. I’m not sure what constitutes quirky. I’m pretty sure most things about me a quirky. Here we go.

1. My email has gotten out of control. Joel keeps referring me to Inbox Zero, to which I reply that I do not have time to watch such a thing. He says I don’t have time not to watch. He’s probably right. This is a symptom of the larger problem I have, which is quirky thing number one: even when something is rational and logical and obviously beneficial, sometimes I resist it like a fool.

2. I love variety, but only if I can have a little piece of every option. Otherwise, I only want one option, and I will be happy with that. Having to choose something among several very compelling options is excruciating to me. Example: an ice cream scoop shop. There aren’t many flavors I’ll turn down. (Unless it’s like gross airy ice cream, in which case I probably will pass.) And then the mix-ins. Think of all the possibilities! By choosing one, I’m not choosing like a hundred other combinations; how can I be sure I got the right one? I’m learning that there is more than one valid option, and I just have to be okay with my choice and enjoy it.

3. In the same vein, a buffet presents a new problem/opportunity. (You know, the Chinese have the same word for crisis as for opportunity. Crisitunity.*) For about the same price as a regular meal, you can have access to any number of meals. By the time you figure out what you like best, you’re already full, and there’s still the frozen yogurt with toppings, and it’s poor form (if not expressly prohibited) to take food home from a buffet. The point is that I love a buffet in theory, but in practice, convincing someone to share a combo dinner is probably a better option.

4. A quirk that does not involve food would be good right about now. Generally I do not like massages. That’s another thing that sounds fantastic in theory, but in practice, it kind of makes my skin crawl. My parents gifted me with a very nice professional massage while I was pregnant, and it did help my lower back.

5. I have a love/hate relationship with the dogs. When they were gone, I was teary and hopeless and wished I had them back every day. I could see the benefit to their absence, but (see quirk #1) there was a giant hole where their stupid faces should be. Now that they’re back, we make threats on their lives several times daily, and I’m pretty sure my blood pressure has risen ten or more points. The hair, the annoyance, the poo, the desperate need for attention, and the barking/whining/licking that composes the white noise of pets sometimes gets to me and I feel as if I will suffocate. But every once in awhile, I need to hug the oafs.

6. I am a compulsive Q-tip addict. I can’t stop. I know it’s wrong and that using them only makes the itching in my ears worse, but it feels so good. And how else am I supposed to get the fluid out of there? I can quit anytime; in fact, I have done so successfully several times. The trick is not to have any around. If there are any in the house, I’ll find them. Recently we had to buy some for some reason, and instead of the little travel pack, we got 500, and I’m back off the wagon.

No pressure, but the deal is I’m to tag six people.

Angela
Lisa
Amanda
Ali
Carolina
Jennic

*Credit Lisa and Homer Simpson

I fell asleep with Zoe again last night and didn’t post. I have no regrets. Lying down with that child is like taking a potent sleep aid.

Today, as has become custom on Saturdays, I started picking up a few things here and there. I decided finally to put away all my cake pans that I dragged out a few weeks ago. The pile of pans slid off the perched spot on the counter where I had put them temporarily to clean out a place in the cabinet, and my 9×13 Pyrex pan shattered, rolling glass all the way from the laundry room to the living room. We had just swept the floor, of course.

No one was too badly injured. I clotted anyway. Thank you to Joel and Julie for their help cleaning up the mess. I promise I didn’t do it on purpose.

Some may recall that recently Zoe was put on a butter diet to fatten her a bit. The following checkup was disappointing to the pediatrician, who wanted to see her again in a month. At Tuesday’s appointment, Zoe measured 84.5 cm (33.3″) tall, 23 pounds 3 ounces, and her head is 48.5 cm (19.1″) around. Not exactly a beefcake, but I assure the world: she is healthy by all accounts. We have both had our flu shots, too. Off the record, I do not like the idea. But I like the idea of any of us getting violently ill even less.

She sings, dances, jumps, damn near reads books, puts the alphabet puzzle together and says the corresponding words… I have been astounded at her progress lately, physical, mental, and emotional. The poor thing: I’m pretty sure she’s brilliant.