Ramblings

Getting used to this whole Blogging thing here. I haven't dawdled in programming since college and even then I was just focused on my assignment not on the whole picture. Not to say I didn't enjoy it as much as to say I DO NOT remember it. So, as the dust flies and I start cranking up the ole' brain cells that haven't done much more than clack away on a calculator for the last ten years, I'm finally getting some of this. Phew. I can't even imagine trying to learn a second language I think I'd crumple on the floor before even opening the book! (though I'd love to learn Spanish to open up that travel door... Ah... the travel-door. Like that'll happen. sigh.)

So in my glee of finally "getting" some of this... (I don't claim or quibble that I may even remotely be good or efficient at any of it.)... I can't help but show off a new skill!

I woke up early to be the everything* this morning... since R had ventured out here this morning with some of Deb's company. (don't ask) I return from dropping Tide off and sit down to get my daily dose, (or small portion of the actual DAILY dose I take!), of catching up in blogdom. Soon after adjusting my seat and letting my eyes scan the screen like an old typewriter, allowing each line to "ziiiiippppp, erp, ching" to return to the next and repeat. Soon I have this shit eating grin on my face as my dear friend has captured the essence of real women boobs . Thank you so very much for the smile, the laugh and for the eloquent words in which you describe most 30-something breast feeding mother boobs to a T.

*not that I don't do most of the morning things anyway... get Tide up, bathed, teeth, clothes, car, daycare, open the shop, phones, worker, remember my own breakfast as I feel faint from my low blood sugar.

So, as I really did start my day off on my good foot, (opposed to the one I usually start out on and end up on), even though I woke up at 5 instead of my casual 6:30 I prefer, I'm still feeling pretty good. I can attribute some of this cheeriness to a recent BM that made me realize I really hadn't gone in a while and the extra iron in my prenatal vits might be taking it's toll on my body, thus the horrible pains and cramps I've been experiencing. I love being a paranoid freak. I was planning on calling my doctor today if it didn't let up. Lo and behold, last night's relief.

Speaking of shit, I find it just amazing how much I talk about shit since becoming a mother, Really, it's true. As any Mother can vouch for, (if she's being honest with herself), having a baby makes you talk about shit. Size, shape, texture, color and smell. Hmmm yummy. Nothing better than when you realize you are trying to diagnose your child's ailment from his or her shit. In doing so you are telling someone else about it! It gets really sad when you realize half way through a conversation with someone you barely know that your topic is... uh, shit. Nice.

I think I've figured out part of my issues. (or should I say a very small crumb off the big cookie?) I'm from New England! Need I say anymore? Need I explain how a Southerner might construe my "yes", as the bitch wrath venom hissing assault!? How R and other family members think I'm harsh or that I snap at them too much? I hustle my way through things not because I'm in an upset frenzy, but more to get-it-done. I snap a reply out not to offend these mild mannered souls, but to get-on-with-it. Point A to point B please, I don't have time for the C, D+E way. (Though I wish I could stop and move slowly through things, still achieving the same outcome.) My life just doesn't happen that way. So, in turn, I become pasted to the wall as the ultimate snappy bitch. Ah, to be so loved. I know they don't really mean it, they just don't understand. So, now that I've seen the light and blame the cold weather and seasonal changes for all my "oddities", I know what to do. Next time I see that disapproving glance or glare emanating from either R or one of my dear southern family members, I'll remember to slowly tell them to fuck off, instead of barking it at them.

In all reality, I am kidding of course. It is an issue for me. My communication skills worked fine "up North", but have been failing me rapidly down here. Seeing that I've been "down here" for ten years, you'd think I'd have things figured out by now... what do they say about the old dog...

Which leads me on to customers. Being the one member of our business team, (R and I), that has to deal with our dear customers on a daily basis, it's no wonder they think I'm a bitch. Besides being the money Nazi, I have this female thing going on. You know, a woman in a man's field that actually knows what she's talking about. It slaps me in the face on a daily basis and I rear my ugly head and beat it back into the ground with my snide remarks. I can't help myself. When a man (or woman, believe it or not) calls to speak to someone about their engine, and I tell them to go ahead. They stammer a bit and repeat their request with the added, "I'd like to talk to a man about my engine." I politely, with my clenched jaw, offer to take a message if they insist or I offer for them to try me, I can probably help. At which time, they either hang up,(really, or stomp out of the office if in person), or ask some dumbass question about what kind of oil or spark plug to use. (not to put down the nice people who actually ask me the question, in all reality- none of their questions are stupid- it's more how they would trust a man's answer over a woman's based entirely on the penis factor) Which even if I didn't know the answer, (which I did/do), we have plenty of books handy that explain it to any average idiot. When this kind of reception started upon my first getting into this business, I was all feminist in your face to these fucking assholes. I've since calmed down a bit, and so have a lot of my customers. If they don't want to hear it from me, then they really can go somewhere else. I don't need their shit. (I have my own, thanks.)