Ode to Krinkle Fries

Oh, crinkle fries, how I do love thee, let me count you as I shove you into my mouth...

Hi, my name is Cheri, and I'm a fry-aholic. Specifically, the thick crinkle cut fries. Just thinking about them makes my mouth water.

I used to work downtown and happily fed my crinkle fry cravings at the Loading Dock. Oh, Dock, how I miss you. Your smoke-filled atmosphere, tables right outside the restroom door, decor of antique cars - IN side the building...ahh...and the best greasy grilled cheese sandwiches EVER. And the fries. Oh, the fries that filled me with a special crinkly kind of joy. There were days when the fries were all I needed. No need to bother with the sandwich - it was just a justification for the fries, anyway. Just knowing that the crinkle fries were always there for me helped to make the bad days just a little bit better.

Now I work further north. For a while, my fry cravings went unsatisfied. And I was cranky. I longed for my fries and wondered if my decision to leave my employer was the right one - after all, what had I given up - how would I live without my crinkle fries (yes, yes, and most certainly YES it was the right decision to leave - but that's a story for another time). And then, a miracle. An angel appeared in the form of a co-worker who said she had found a new place to eat that had just opened: the Boathouse Grill. We went to try it and discovered - yes, they had Krinkle fries. Oh, yes, these Krinkle fries are spelled with a 'K' and capitalized, my friend. They are THAT good. They are perfectly crinkled and beautiful and delicious. And even better, at the Boathouse, we can watch the Price is Right during lunch. This might be what Heaven is like.

What makes my husband cry

Most people who know me know that I cry easily. Sappy romantic comedies, commercials, country songs, seeing someone on t.v. cry, radio telethons...they all make me cry.

My husband, on the other hand, is a MAN. He doesn't cry. It's a Man Rule or something. Boys don't cry. I have only seen him cry a couple of times since I've known him - at the funerals of his grandparents - and to be honest, it freaks me out a little because I don't know what to do when it happens. Now, he does get a little emotional about weird boy-movies. Like the one where Joaquin Phoenix is a firefighter and John Travolta is trying to save him and then he dies in the end anyway...he doesn't exactly cry, but it gets him a little verklempt, if you will (I on the other hand, cry - someone in a movie DIES, people, c'mon!). And also, Days of Thunder. When Tom Cruise has to drive through the accident and he can't see and the other guy tells him that he can do it, "I know it in my heart, Cole." Yeah, that line gets him every time. Oddly, that is one of the few things that does NOT make me cry. Strange.

But yesterday, my husband showed me something he found on YouTube and he was pretty choked up. First of all, my husband was on YouTube - this is momentous! I asked how he found this video and it came from something I signed him up for (I will pull him kicking and screaming into the 21st century yet!). A while back, I heard an ad for an All-Pro Dads event. I Googled them to see what it was all about and was very impressed. They have a newsletter they send out to men with snippets of info and motivational/inspirational advice on being a better dad. I signed Steve up, not because I think he is not a good father, but because I thought it might give him some thought points and he would like that is was kind of sports-related (The Colts' coach, Tony Dungy is very heavily involved in the organization). He didn't say anything for a while, but finally he mentioned something in one of the e-mails and I was happy to hear he was getting the e-mails, reading them, and enjoying them. The e-mail this week had a story about a father and son, Dick and Rick Hoyt. Their story is here and here and it is amazing. And it will make you cry, unless you are a robot or your heart is made of stone. And if your heart is made of some kind of metal or stone, try this video and make sure you have a Kleenex or two handy. Your heart will be a big pool of goo by the end. We watched both of the videos and my husband - my big, strong, manly-man husband - was very teary-eyed. It is in moments like these that I know I married the right one.

I'm going to call it froz

originally uploaded by Cheri13.

Today started like many other days - with me in a fog. The difference today was that the fog was outside instead of just in my head. It was one of the foggiest days I can remember. The radio called it freezing fog, which sounded stupid to me, until I drove through it and watched my windows ice up. As I drove down the interstate on my way to work, trying to pay attention to the cars I could barely see, I got distracted by glimpses through the fog of how beautiful the frozen grass and bushes were on the side of the road. All I could think about was how much I wanted to take a picture...or two...or twenty. Every minute or so, I would think, "Ooo. THAT would be a great picture! Oh! Or THAT! Oh, look how pretty THAT is!" Unfortunately, you can't exactly take pictures while you're driving down the interstate trying to avoid cars in near zero visibility driving conditions. And pulling over to the side of the road in order to get out of the car and take some pictures isn't really a good idea, either. You know, there are stupid people on the interstate in the fog.

So I did the only smart thing I could do. I got off the interstate and drove on the even foggier side road so that I could drive twenty mph and stop if I wanted to. And I did stop and take a few pictures, but then the fog got so bad that I really couldn't see enough to even do that. So I got the idea to take a small diversion on my way to work and drive a few hundred yards into the state park where I KNEW I could get some cool pics. And boy, did I. I pulled just inside the front gate and took several pictures. Then I drove a little further in just to see what was there and to turn around. I saw a small road that led to the Nature Center and thought that would be a good place to turn around. This may sound a little cheesy, but I really think it was some kind of Divine intervention - it IS Ash Wednesday, after all. As I turned onto the road, a deer walked across in front of me. I watched where the deer walked to and saw another one, then two, and then I realized there were FIVE deer in all. Wow! It was truly amazing.

So I was of course late to work. Again. I got there at 9am, for the third day in a row. Thank God my boss is also my friend, and that she understands - and is okay for now with the fact - that I barely have enough work to fill my days. So being a little late isn't a huge issue right now. And I did show her my amazing deer pictures. As I told another friend today - as my friend, she was totally cool with my side trip. But as my boss, at some point she's going to have to start frowning upon this kind of behavior from me.

So it was really a great way to start my morning. And it made me think, yet again, how much I wish I could just take pictures for a living. And write blogs. If I could find someone to pay me what I make now to do that...well, that might just be heaven.

Sigh.

Okay, back to the real world. But in the mean time, take a look at my frozzy pictures!

It's so romantic

Happy Valentine's Day!

Today is day two of being snowed in. Here is a picture of our front yard today after 15 inches of drifting snow:

The drift by the front door is almost four feet tall at its peak. We all stayed home today for the second day. Since it's Valentine's Day, I gave Steve a gift any husband would love - I helped him shovel our driveway and sidewalks. I found his gift after I got out of the shower.

A hickie.

Oh, yes, that's right. A HICKIE. Am I in high school? No, I most certainly am not. Are we some drunk college kids getting it on in a dark dorm room while a roommate sleeps in the top bunk? Nope. We've been married for ten years for crying out loud. And we have two kids - we're not even supposed to be having sex at this point, let alone leaving EVIDENCE of the crime. Oh sure, I could tell you it was just the hickie, but you wouldn't really believe me, now would you? So yes, we had sex. And don't worry - that's all the details I feel the need to provide. You know, I wouldn't want to make anyone jealous with tales of my wild, cavorting, let's-hurry-up-and-do-it-now-that-the-kids-are-asleep-so-we-can-go-to-sleep, married sex. It's pretty hot and steamy. Seriously.

School is closed again tomorrow, but work is on and day care is open, so life is almost back to normal. We'll all be leaving the house tomorrow and maybe that's a good thing. You know, maybe the hickie is a result of us being cooped up in the house all day. We need to go to work to expend some energy in order to avoid any more incriminating evidence showing up on my neck.

Well, I think Steve is asleep. I think it's safe for me to head off to bed. After I lay out that lovely turtleneck sweater I'll be wearing tomorrow.

Saved by the snow

While watching a news report about our record snowfall (12 -15 inches - most places shut down due to Snow Emergency) - they were discussing the difficulty of florists delivering their Valentine's Day orders:

Steve: This is probably killing their business from all those last minute people.

Me: Yeah, and with everything shut down, do you think they'll just wait and deliver my flowers tomorrow?

Steve: No, they'll probably just say 'Forget it,' and give me my money back.

Me: You're hilarious.

Steve: I better call Troyer and tell him to use that one on Michelle!

Don't sign me up for the Boston Marathon yet

I realize my posts are fairly random. I post about writing batch file programs, my kids, work, depression, Momtinis...I know. But, seriously? That's how my life is. It is random and nonlinear and full of lots of different things. So...today I've got a new random subject: my treadmill. More appropriately, my LOVE for my new treadmill.

I never believed I would be a runner or a treadmill owner. And I don't think I'm going to go so far as to call myself a runner now, either. But I think I have more potential to become a runner now than I ever thought I would. My friend (also my boss - yes, it's awesome) had a treadmill she was looking to sell and Steve and I have talked about getting a treadmill. Yes, we have made the same goal that millions of other people make every January - to lose weight/get in shape. But I feel more serious about this than just a diet. In fact, I don't really think about this as a diet. We are trying to make a change in how we live. I am actually very consciously trying NOT to use the word diet or talk about losing weight. I don't want to start those images and ideas in the kids' heads already. I know it's never too early to start lifelong problems with food and self-image. So anyway, we got the treadmill. We've had it for a couple of weeks now, and I really really like it. I don't really like the fact that it's in the living room, but since we don't have an extra room to put it in or a basement, the living room is the best option.

I have not been on it every day, but I have been on it more days than I have not. And I have even started running on it. I read somewhere that beginners should start out alternating walking for 3 minutes and running for 2 to ease in to running. I did that all this week for a mile or so each time. Today I did that for a mile and walked another 2 miles. I know, I'm a wuss. Please, don't tell me. I KNOW! But for me, this is a big step away from my sedentary lifestyle. I want to be healthy. I want to be a good model for my kids. We're all eating a little better - but we aren't going crazy. I love food. Get that right - I LOVE food. And if I try to eliminate all the things I love the best (that would be French fries, for starters), I know it won't stick. But if we add in more fruit and vegetables, switch to brown rice, eat more fiber, reduce the fat and sugar...blah blah blah...I just might be able to do it. And my kids might not become one more statistic about obese children. Though, to be honest, I don't see Andrew having trouble with that any time soon. For him, I want him to learn how to eat healthy. With the history of heart trouble on his dad's side, he needs to start early.

So the treadmill. Have I mentioned that I love it? Yes, I did. Really, if I'm being honest here, I don't love running, or even walking that much. While I'm doing it, I have a very strong hatred of the effort it takes to make my body go. I don't like being sweaty. It's gross. And I am not cute when I sweat. But at the same time, I love the way I feel. I love that the sweat means I am working and the working means I am burning calories and the burning of calories means I am healthier! They aren't lying when they talk about those endorphins. I feel them. I take pride in the (yes, wussy) fact that I can run. No, I can't run far - yet - and I don't run for very long - yet. But I am already getting stronger. I feel confident that I am going to make the goals I've set. Where I am weak in the face of food, I am strong when I am on my treadmill. Maybe it's because the treadmill is pointed right toward the kitchen and I have direct line view of the refrigerator....it's the old carrot on the stick trick!! Ha!

The Momtini* heard round the blogosphere

*The Momtini was invented and (I think) soon-to-be trademarked by Melissa Summers of Suburban Bliss.

So the whole mommy blogosphere seems to be talking about this. And I feel a little disconnected because, while I read several blogs that have discussed this, I haven't commented. And no one here in my "real" world is even aware of the debate. It's almost as if the entire ~scandal~ exists only in the virtual Internet world. So I have no one to talk to about this. And I need to talk about it. I don't know what exactly I have to say that hasn't already been said, but this whole thing bothers me on several levels and I can't stop thinking about it.

First, a re-cap: Melissa Summers, a mother who writes a blog (see links above), has written posts about enjoying adult alcoholic beverages with other parents while the children play. The other parents are also mothers (usually no dads) and the get-togethers are referred to as playdates. The Today Show picked up on the story from Melissa and from another woman, Stefanie Wilder-Taylor, who wrote a book about just such playdates and other mothering adventures. They aired a spot a couple of weeks ago with Melissa and Dr. Janet Taylor discussing the issue, which they referred to as a "new trend."

Because of the strong response they got from this piece, I think primarily negative, they aired a follow-up piece this week with Dr. Taylor and Stefanie Wilder-Taylor. This piece seemed to be a little softer on the issue than the first piece, but it is still generating a lot of buzz (no pun intended!) on a lot of blogs.

I have so many thoughts on this, but mostly, I am just sad. Sad that we've all come to this. Sad that we're so concerned with what other people are doing that we have to find new names for old things so we can gasp in horror at the "new trends." Sad that, unfortunately, there are parents in the world who make the rest of us look bad and cause the so-called experts to look for any sign of bad parenting in an effort to save the children from the results of our behavior. Sad because some parents NEED someone else to call them on their irresponsible behavior.

Sometimes parents are just ignorant of the proper way to care for children - and ignorant is okay, as long as they get help (would someone PLEASE help Britney?!). Ignorance is just a lack of knowing. Most of the time, ignorance can be corrected. Stupid, on the other hand, might just be permanent. These parents probably do need someone like Dr. Taylor to tell them that even one drink could impact them and impair their ability to be a good parent. Because the difference between one and plastered to these parents might not be clear. They may be struggling to be a good parent even without anything that would alter their thoughts - whether that be beer, wine, cough medicine, American Idol, etc. And by struggling, I don't mean that they don't have all the beds made by 7am, that they work 50 hours a week and have to rely on day care too much, or even that they fight with their spouse about money in front of the kids. I'm talking about the kind of parents whose toddlers are walking down busy interstates in January wearing nothing but a diaper and a t-shirt, parents who don't know any other way to get their children to be quiet other than to knock them unconscious and leave them outside in the cold to die.

Most (God, I hope we're the majority in this) of the rest of us, who are not perfect and whose children are not perfect, but who are healthy, functioning, warm, fed, and have a bed to sleep in...we're doing okay. Of course, we are probably messing up our kids in millions of little ways. How could we not, being the imperfect beings that we are? My mom ruined me on grape jelly when I was a kid by putting my medicine in it (I couldn't swallow pills). Does that mean that someone should have put her on TV and pointed out what a crappy job she was doing in the jelly area? Of course not. It just means that we now only have strawberry jelly in my house. If we're going to start pointing fingers about parenting styles that others see as wrong, everyone is going to come out the loser. Do you work outside the home? Do you stay home all the time? Do you formula feed? Do you co-sleep? Do you practice cry-it-out? Do you eat meat? Do you not eat meat? Do you eat fast food? Do you watch violent TV programs (and yes, the nightly news counts)? Do you listen to a radio station that plays some songs with suggestive lyrics? Do you live a mostly sedentary lifestyle? If you do any of those things, I guarantee there is another parent out there who thinks you are not being responsible with your children. Show me a parent, and I'll show you someone who has done something in front of or to their kids that would absolutely appall another parent.

I know I sound like I'm pretty worked up about this, but the truth is, I am not as worked up as I think I should be. Like I said, I'm mostly just sad. Of course, I understand why other people are very worked up about it, Melissa Summers in particular. I can't even begin to imagine how pissed I'd be in her position. However, I also understand that there is another side, and I know she does, too. I know there are some people who are not okay with drinking. Ever. Anywhere. In front of anyone. Especially not children. They have their reasons. They are entitled to their opinions. And for them, drinking in front of children is the same as teaching them to steal cars or kill someone. I don't agree with them, but I feel for them. I think for many people with that view point, they are desperately trying to protect their children from a world that at times seems to have gone crazy. Kids bring weapons to school, we hear about drug problems in elementary school kids, there are adults pretending to be kids on the Internet so they can lure our children for their twisted fantasies. It is terrifying the many many ways in which our children can be hurt. If you stop to let all of that in, it would be paralyzing. You wouldn't let your children out of the house or anywhere near a television, radio, or computer. But to live life that way, in my opinion, is not really living. It is attempting to create a bubble that has no hope of surviving the pins and needles of this world. I would also assert that preventing children from seeing a parent drink really won't keep them from drinking in the future. I know lots of people whose parents never smoked pot in front of them, and yet...

I don't drink often, but when I do, it is usually in front of my children. We get together with our friends from church, the kids play, we might have a few drinks. It's normally pretty low-key. The purpose of the get-together is not the drink. Drinking is not a way in which any of the adults deal with their stress. I do find a glass of wine to be relaxing, but it's not my first option when I'm stressed. Mostly, I am enjoying time with my friends, which is also relaxing, and sometimes I feel like having a glass of wine while we do that. And then it's even more relaxing. However, to be fair again to the other side, at times I've also seen some grown ups get pretty wasted in front of the kids. The kids were never in any kind of danger from being neglected - there are always 6, 8, 10, or more adults around, and almost always there is at least one who has had one or no drinks. But I know that it has sometimes bothered some of the kids to see their parent or their friend's parent drunk. And that makes me sad, too. I don't think less of my friend for getting drunk. I don't think she is a bad mother. I think she gets carried away sometimes. But I also know that she would never do that in a setting where she was solely responsible for her kids.

And that again, is the difference between people teetering on the edge of neglectful parenting, and the rest of us living in the middle, who are not perfect, but are doing the best we can, even while the voices on the TV, in the magazines, and even on the Internet tell us we're doing it wrong.

All I need is a glue gun and an umbrella

A new CubeLand exclusive feature!

So apparently, my cube neighbor has overheard enough of the conversations from my side of the cube wall to determine that I am worthless when it comes to work-related subjects. I am, however, at least in his mind, some kind of domestic goddess when it comes to random life skill trivia. A few weeks ago, he came over to ask me what it means on sweaters when it says "Lay flat to dry." Do they mean that literally? Uh, yes.

Today, he came a-knocking to ask about the refrigerator life-span of cilantro so he can plan when to make his Bean Dip Surprise. How long will it last if I buy it today? He seemed assured once I told him that the parsley in my refrigerator has lasted a week or two at this point and his cilantro should enjoy a similar lengthy life in the coolness of his crisper drawer.

I'll be submitting my name change application shortly. You can start referring to me as Martha Poppins...

Super Bowl

Colts win!!

Woo Hoo! Go Colts!

The King says Zoloft is good for business

Wow, so yesterday's post was pretty long. Rereading it today, I'm almost embarrassed to have written it. But once I got started, I guess I just couldn't stop. It felt good to get it all out of my head, even if it is out into cyberspace. In all reality, I'm guessing that no one has found this blog yet, which is just fine with me.

Yesterday was a bad day. Today was better. Actually, today offered another indication that the medicine might be working. This morning, I had a big-time snuggle with my kids. We snuggled and giggled and tickled and laughed. They sat on me to keep me from getting up and taking my shower. We were late getting out of the house and off to work and school.

Even when I was at my worst, I would have enjoyed those fun little snuggly moments with the kids. I was never that far gone. The difference is that then, I would have been quicker to end it and as soon as I left the moment, any happiness I felt during the moment disappeared as if it had never been. Now, the happy stays with me. It stayed with me all morning. It kept me from losing my cool even though we were getting later and later. It allowed me to be the "cool" mom this morning who offered to pick up Burger King breakfast because we were out of waffles.

And that Croissan'wich tasted much better on a happy stomach.

The stars sure are bright out here in space

I'm a worrier. I get an idea and I put it in my head and let it gnaw away at my thoughts. I worry about other people's thoughts and feelings. It sounds nice in theory, to be concerned for others, but I do it too much. I do it to the point of my own self-centered paralysis. What will they think (of me), what will they say (about me), what will they do (to me), will they like me...

Coupled with the worry is apparently a profound lack of physical ability to handle stress. For years now, stress has manifested itself physically in different ways. Sometimes it's headaches, other times it's been vertigo, nausea, a lingering cough. Most recently, my internalized stress triggered (not caused - my doctor was very firm that there isn't necessarily a causal relationship; this is a chemical problem that elevated stress levels may have aggravated but that was already lurking in my brain. Because that was supposed to make me feel better?) depression that I dealt with for almost nine months before finding the right professional help. It wasn't debilitating depression, but it had gotten bad enough that I was crying more days than I wasn't, I snapped at my husband and my kids ALL the time, and I was just never happy. I felt like there was a huge weight on my chest and I constantly let out deep, heavy sighs to try and relieve the pressure. When the symptoms finally became too obvious to ignore, I attributed them to really bad PMS and talked to my OBGYN about birth control pills to regulate my hormones. After three more months, it was obvious that wasn't the problem. She asked if I could be depressed. I shrugged. Well, after leaving a horrible job in April and just finishing (finally!) my bachelor's degree in December, what would I be depressed about in January - and what would I have been depressed about since oh, I dunno, May? She suggested we try Zoloft, so I agreed because I was ready to stop feeling the way I felt.

I have been taking Zoloft now for just over two weeks. I've been hesitant to tell many people about what's going on with me for a couple of reasons. First, I am not sure even now that I completely know how I feel about this situation. I'm not ready for too many other opinions on the matter until I have my own opinion, and that alone tells me this is serious. Second, any opinions I get now need to be able to be objective, and as I've found, there aren't many objective opinions in the depression and drugs discussion. Most people I know have a pretty strong opinion, based on the fact that they work in healthcare, are currently taking depression medication, know someone who has taken depression medication, or their beliefs about the true cause and nature of depression. None of these opinions help me, because I already know those sides of the story.

I know that drugs have helped and continue to help a lot of people. I know that depression can be a horrible chronic curse that ruins families and lives. I also know that sometimes when people say they are "depressed," they are just sad, down, stressed, or unhappy about a particular event or circumstance. To me, that is not the same as the person who is depressed in a way that prevents them from seeing color in their lives or enjoying a single moment of any day or even functioning. My struggle is that I fall into neither of those groups. My bad days were bad, but I still got up, showered, cared for my children (sort of and with lots of yelling), went to work, prepared dinner, helped with homework, did my own homework, etc...Until the end, I was even still having sex with my husband, though of course, not as much as he would have liked. But that's a whole different topic. The problem was that even while I was doing those things, I was miserable and sad and felt dead inside for no apparent reason. Things that should have been completely benign set me off into uncontrolled tears. A couple of times I sobbed in the bathroom, unable to stop, worried that my husband or children would hear and would ask for an explanation I did not have. I have struggled with and reached a point of acceptance with the fact that, while my depression is mild and liveable, and even unnoticeable to most people I know, it is true depression and I need help to treat it.

A few days ago, I think I reached a turning point where the medication started to have some effect and the difference in the days since that point and those before has helped me to finally accept what is happening to me and the fact that it is not something I can either control or fix on my own. I do not want to be dependent upon a drug to live my life, though I don't have any practical reasons why. I never thought I looked poorly upon people who take drugs to function, but maybe I secretly did. I don't think so, but why else would it be okay for them and not for me. I think it all comes back to control, and for me, depending upon the drug is losing control. In all truthfulness, I am pissed off that I can't get better on my own - just suck it up and be happy. And so I struggle to be okay with taking the drug, even while I continue to take the drug, and believe the drug is helping me.

So, all of that to say all of this...

Now, I'm worried. What triggered this disease for me was a job change. I don't like that, but I believe it. I am not sorry I left my old job. I am not sorry I took this new job. While the new job is still, ten months later, not yet challenging me in the ways I had hoped or providing the opportunities I thought it would, I am learning new things. I feel appreciated and, most of the time, that I am able (or will be able) to contribute something of value to the department and the company. One of my dear friends is my boss, and she is terrific. The corporate culture here is everything I could hope for. I can't explain enough how happy I am to work for this company, and how thrilled I am to no longer be an employee of the other. However, I worked for that company for nine years. It was my first 'real' career job. The decision to leave was agonizing, even through the misery. I was sick to my stomach for a week. I didn't sleep. I couldn't concentrate. The first month I was at the new job was much of the same. Looking back now, I see that is when I first started showing signs of the depression that was growing.

Now, things are better. The stress of school is gone (though finishing school was another big change that rocked my system), the "new job" feel has settled. I have work to fill my day, but am not so busy that I don't have time to breathe. When I leave work in the evening, I truly leave work. I am able to enjoy being at home with my family.

But there's a problem: I am in Finance. I don't like finance and I am not now, nor will I ever be, an accountant. My husband is an accountant, and that is as close as I need to get. I work with the system that runs our financials. I have worked on this system for over seven years (first at the old company and now at the new), but until I took this job, my main focus was first HR and after that, Payroll. I miss HR and even (God help me) Payroll. It is my comfort zone and - to me - so much more interesting than debits and credits. Recently, I referred a former co-worker for an open position in the HRIS group. It was my perfect dream job, and I helped him get it instead. Why? Well, Silly, because I felt guilty. And I worried.

What would my friend/boss think if I jumped ship so soon after she rescued me from the other sinking ship? I felt, and still feel, that I owe her at least a year of my time. So finally, we're to the current problem. The year will be up at the beginning of April. The HRIS department is discussing the probability that they will need another position similar to the one my friend took. You know, my dream job. And they are throwing my name around as a likely candidate for the opening. So what's the problem, you ask? Silly, haven't you been paying attention? Guilt. Worry. Stress. Depression.

First, have I really repaid my friend enough for hiring me? The projects she hired me to work on were delayed or cancelled. The big projects coming now are due to start this spring - right when I would be leaving. The guilt. What will she think? Will she be upset or angry with me for leaving Finance to go back to HR? Will I be taking the easy way out instead of sticking it out here and learning the Finance game? The worry. If I were to take the job and switch, will the stress of this job change do to me what the last job change did? Will it cause the depression that I am just beginning to grapple with to worsen? I feel like I am crawling up out of a dark hole and the thought of going back down there to the dark is terrifying.

I am trying to remind myself that I can't even see this bridge yet, let alone do I have to decide whether or not to cross it. But that's where the worrier in me comes in. The thought is in my head, festering, digging tunnels in my brain. It sits on my shoulder and whispers things in my ear. Unintelligible, worrysome things, full of dread and dark, caused by something I want desperately.

And there's the sigh. It's here this afternoon. The pressure is back on my chest, though it's not as heavy as it might have been a week ago. I worry that the very worry I am worrying will become a self-fulfilling prophecy, causing me to slip back into the dark. Again, I am self-absorbed with the internal workings of my brain and body. It's hard to concentrate on a job or contribute to a family with the constant checking of my sanity.

I spoke briefly with a friend this afternoon and explained the situation, though I didn't go into elaborate details about all the angst and she doesn't know about the depression. She told me not to be an astronaut floating in space with just the cord to keep me attached to the ship. I should pull myself back in and wait until the asteroid hits before I start to panic. I love her analogies. One day, I'll record them in a book and make millions. Until then, I'm checking my oxygen tank and trying to head back to the ship and not think about the asteroid that may or may not be headed my way.

We can't all be Dooce

I am new here. I'm new to blogging in general. I have played a little over the last few months, but have only just decided that I really like this. In fact, I just re-posted my other entries from a little "play" blog I was messing with. I really didn't like the setup over there and, so far at least, Blogger looks great - very friendly for us newbie, only semi-techie types. But really, I'm hoping I can figure out how to edit and write in HTML pretty soon because I think I will eventually get bored with just the basics.

At any rate, if you're here, I might as well tell you a little about me. I'm not young and not cool. I'm pretty average, in fact. I am in my mid-thirties, I live in the middle of the Midwest (Indiana), I'm married with two young kids, a boy and a girl. Pretty much, all I'm missing is the dog to be about the most average woman around, yeah? Sorry, no dog, just two cats.

I read Dooce and Suburban Bliss pretty regularly and I think Heather Armstrong and Melissa Summers are funny, brilliant, and incredibly brave to share some of the things they do on their sites. I'm not sure I'll live up to their examples, but I love to write and sometimes my life cracks me up, so I'm going to document some of that here for my own pleasure. If anyone else reads it, cool, I hope you enjoy it.

Coming round again

Note: reposted from January 10, 2007

So I posted once and then I just stopped. What kind of loser am I?!? Well, I had to test the waters, think it over, decide how committed I wanted to be to this. Plus, I did actually start a new diary/blog for my kids (Just the Mommy). I wanted to write down some of the things that they do that seem so memorable right now, but that I will forget in a week. I'm forgetful that way. And I'm discovering that the things I remember from my childhood are drastically different than the things my mom remembers. So I'm documenting it now while there's a better shot at getting the truth. I hope to use it to resolve arguments when they're older. And of course use it against them as blackmail.

But I just found out that a good friend of mine is blogging on Yahoo 360 (My Fabulous Life). And she didn't tell me!! And another friend has a secret blog that she doesn't share. Bitches, both of them! Not really. I didn't tell them about mine, either. We're spider that way. Don't worry, if you're reading and you don't get that, you're not supposed to. And I'm not explaining it to you. Hee hee. I spider.

So anyway, now I've got a whole "if she can do it, it's okay for me to do it, too!" attitude and I'm back here posting all the stuff that I'm not putting in my kids' diary. Oh, I'm sure there will be entries about the kids. I mean, c'mon, what else do I really have to talk about?

Channeling my inner Stuart Smalley

Note: reposted from November 17, 2006

I'm good enough. I'm smart enough. And gosh darn it - I wrote a cool .bat file today!

I'm not a programmer and I don't even consider myself all that techie/geeky. But I do aspire to geekness, and sometimes I manage a geek moment here and there. Today was totally one of those moments. Now, if there are any real geeks reading this - of course that assumes ANYONE is reading this - don't go bursting my bubble and tell me how simple it is to write a batch file. Nobody else I work with can do it, and that's good enough for me. After being at a new company since last April in a department where I know next to nothing, I finally felt smart about something!

OH...and I think I have finally found the one thing in this world that I do better than my husband and it's ballroom dancing. He has actually agreed to take ballroom dancing lessons with me, six altogether. Tonight was our second class. He is just so cute when he scrunches his face to concentrate on the steps. He's brilliant, but he is an awful dancer! Slow, slow, quick, quick, slow...

Ahh, affirmation! I'm not the dumbest person on the planet. And sadly, there are days when I have to wonder...of course, I could probably cure those feelings pretty quickly if I'd just watch a little more Jerry Spinger or Judge Judy.