May 31, 2004
I have been at my same job for 13.5 years now. At this company I’ve done a variety of things, and generally speaking, I like what I do, but the time comes when enough is enough.
The job I had prior to this one, I got pretty much right out of college and was at that company for eight years.
So in short, I don’t really change jobs much.
But the time has come for me to start exploring my options. So, to that end, I need to put together a resume. I got a copy of my previous resume out of my HR file. The last time it was updated was 1989.
Don’t start with me, I know that you should keep your resume updated. But hey, you should floss every day too and how many of you do?
Not only is my resume from the last millenium, but in the 80′s? I will guarantee I had big Aqua Netted hair as I sat down to a DOS-based operating system on a rudimentary version of Word Perfect to put that puppy together.
The internet wasn’t a household word. And that’s just the tip of the iceburg of what is now that wasn’t back then.
So I sat down at my trusty computer this afternoon to start putting a resume together. I need to do it by the middle of next week. Because instead of using the want ads, I’m trying something new and madcap–networking. And I promised one of my contacts I have something to him by the middle of the week.
I know what I’m supposed to put in a resume. It’s just a matter of putting it together. It’s not like I can’t string two thoughts together. I can. Just not coherent ones for a resume.
So if there is some brilliant person out there who writes a mean resume and wants to do mine, I will gladly phone you and we can chat and you can do the work. And for this service you will have my undieing devotion. Just e-mail me. Please
Because I’m here to tell you, this is much harder to do than I remember it being.
May 28, 2004
On the kitty front, still no sign of my precious Trina. I can talk about it now without crying all the damned time, but I’m still profoundly sad. She was in my dream the other night and she was young, spry, healthy, and happy. So I know she’s OK. (And damn it, now I’m crying again.)
Thank you all for your kind words.
And the kittens….damn are they cute. They’ll be six weeks old on Monday.
Some pix for your kitty perusing pleasure:
My little Nina (which I Photoshopped with vaguely disasterous results, but you get the idea, and as always, click to make it bigger):
And finally, Wanda (who doesn’t pose well so I had to catch her eating some luggage):
May 27, 2004
Do you have the guts to take the honest bloggers-only quiz?
1. Which political party do you typically agree with? Democratic, usually.
2. Which political party do you typically vote for? Democrat
3. List the last five presidents that you voted for? Anderson, Dukakis, Clinton, Clinton, Gore (I think about the Dukakis and Anderson, certainly Clinton, Clinton, Gore are right.)
4. Which party do you think is smarter about the economy? Neither.
5. Which party do you think is smarter about domestic affairs? Democratic.
6. Do you think we should keep our troops in Iraq or pull them out? Pull them out now!
7. Who, or what country, do you think is most responsible for 9/11? Osama Bin Laden or the CIA.
8. Do you think we will find weapons of mass destruction in iraq? No.
9. Yes or no, should the u.s. legalize marijuana? YES!
10. Do you think the republicans stole the last presidental election? Yes.
11. Do you think Bill Clinton should have been impeached because of what he did with Monica Lewinski? No.
12. Do you think Hillary Clinton would make a good president? Yes.
13. Name a current democrat who would make a great president. Howard Dean.
14. Name a current republican who would make a great president. No.
15. Do you think that women should have the right to have an abortion? Absolutely yes.
16. What religion are you? Born and raised Jewish, practicing nothing, but old habits die hard.
17. Have you read the Bible all the way through? No.
18. What’s your favorite book? Birth of Venus right now, but this changes.
19. Who is your favorite band? Nickleback
20. Who do you think you’ll vote for president in the next election? Kerry.
21. What website did you see this on first? Beth’s Contradictory Brain (I saw it as a referral in someone else’s blog and had to check it out cuz she’s got a fabulous name, but clearly very different viewpoints from my own.)
1. Do you try to look hot when you go to the grocery store just in case someone recognizes you from your blog? First of all, not bloody likely I’d be recognized, but no.
2. Are the photos you post Photoshopped or otherwise altered? Only for cropping and minor details. Any picture you see of me is what I look like, though I’d never let anyone post a bad picture of me.
3. Do you like it when creeps or dorks email you? Hasn’t ever happened but I’d say no.
4. Do you lie in your blog? Short answer no. But let’s remember it’s a report from my perspective.
5. Are you passive-aggressive in your blog? Probably.
6. Do you ever threaten to quit writing so people will tell you not to stop? No, not my style.
7. Are you in therapy? If not, should you be? If so, is it helping? No, maybe, does not apply.
8. Do you delete mean comments? Do you fake nice ones? No.
9. Have you ever rubbed one out while reading a blog? How about after? No and no.
10. If your readers knew you in person, would they like you more or like you less? Probably like me more.
11. Do you have a job? Yes.
12. If someone offered you a decent salary to blog full-time without restrictions, would you do it? Where do i sign up?
13. Which blogger do you want to meet in real life? If I could only pick one probably Maggie, but in reality, everyone on my links list.
14. How many bloggers have you made out with? One.
15. Do you usually act like you have more money or less money than you really have? Probably more money.
16. Does your family read your blog? Husband does. Daughter doesn’t. If anyone else in my extended family does they’ve never told me and that’s a really big no-no.
17. How old is your blog? This blog is about a year old, but my online journaling days date back to 1999.
18. Do you get more than 1000 pageviews per day? Do you care? No and no.
19. Do you have another secret blog in which you write about being depressed, slutty, or a liar? No, if I feel those things and care to share them, I feel free to do so in my blog.
20. Have you ever given another blogger money for his/her writing? Does my husband count?
21. Do you report the money you earn from your blog on your taxes? Does not apply.
22. Is blogging narcissistic? Probably.
23. Do you feel guilty when you don’t post for a long time? Yes.
24. Do you like John Mayer? Yes.
25. Do you have enemies? In real life, yes, here, none that have identified themselves.
26. Are you lonely? No.
27. Why bother? Why not.
I, of course, would want to be in the non-working group. I’d gladly give up my job for the advancement of science.
Working stimulates brain’s pleasure center
A new study by Emory University shows that people who are compensated for the work they do are probably happier than those who win the lottery or subsist on a trust fund. The study, published this month in the journal Neuron, measured brain activity in the striatum, the part of the brain that processes information about rewards and pleasure.
By testing two groups and measuring activity with MRI scanners, the researchers discovered some centers of the brain were stimulated by a cash reward, regardless of the effort put into earning it. However, the striatum was only stimulated in the group that actually worked for it—like nature intended when it wired the brain.
“I don’t think it ever evolved to sit back on the couch and have things fall in our laps,” said Greg Burns, associate professor of psychiatry and behavioral science.
May 20, 2004
If you’ve spent any time here with me, one thing you’ve gathered about me is that I’m a “pet person”. I’ve had pets almost my entire life. I grew up with a dog as a pet, a schnauzer that my mother had until I was long-gone from her house, and in college. At my dad’s house we had two dogs.
When I moved out of my parent’s house and was on my own it was natural for me to want a pet. A dog was not an option so I got a cat. Natasha. She and I have been together for just about forever. She went missing a few years ago. I talk about that here and her return home here.
The thing about that second entry is that you’ll notice I never stopped looking. While I was devastated, I must have known in my heart that she was alive and well and was going to turn up….eventually….it was just a matter of when.
This time it’s different.
As I mentioned a few days ago, Natasha had been sick. But a few doses of antibiotics and some fluids really seemed to perk her up. In fact, when we returned from the vet she lounged with us on the couch, something she hasn’t done for a very long time. I reported her “right as rain”.
Well things seemed to take a bit of a turn for the worse as the weekend progressed. She was hiding all of Saturday, which in itself is not too unusual, and was not a cause for alarm.
But when I saw her Sunday night I knew things were not good. She was hoarse (yes, cats can lose their voices). She seemed to have lost even more weight, because apparently the six pounds she’d lost over the course of the last year was not enough and you know, five pounds is maybe just too much for a cat. I gave her fresh water. She did not want to drink. I put her on the dryer and petted her, trying to coax her to eat something. I poured a dish of kitty milk for her. She took a few feeble bites of food and drank a bit of the milk but was uninterested in any of it.
I gently carried her down from the dryer and put her in her bed in my office.
I spent hours with her Sunday night. I talked to her. I held her. I petted her. I cried. I could see the writing on the wall.
Chuck was already asleep so I planned to talk to him in the morning about helping me to take Natasha to the vet. I knew I could not go alone.
Monday morning I went into my office at home and Natasha was not in her bed. I knew. At work all day I was out of sorts but didn’t say anything. I came home and made a beeline for my office. No kitty. I tore the house apart. Every closet. Every nook and cranny. Under every piece of furniture. Inside the lining of every piece of furniture. No kitty. I told Chuck. I cried.
All night I kept looking.
Tuesday I asked Chuck if he would go under the house and look for my baby. I knew he was reluctant and if he didn’t want to I would be OK with it. But he did. He searched every square inch. No kitty. Again, I searched every closet. Every nook and cranny. Under every piece of furniture. Inside the lining of every piece of furniture. No kitty. I cried some more.
But I kept looking.
I knew she was gone but I kept looking.
Yesterday I cried. Only a few times, though the tears are always just barely under the surface. But I only looked a little bit.
Today I cried. A lot. But I haven’t looked.
Kittys go away to die. It’ their instinct. They find a small dark corner and go.
My baby lived a long, healthy, full life. She was a house cat. With an open door not 15 feet from where she spent most of her life, she only used that door one or two times.
I hoped that when it was her time she would go peacefully in her bed. But instinct is hard to fight.
I know my baby is in kitty heaven. I know in my heart. But I need to find her. I need closure. I need to be able to stop crying.
May 19, 2004
Steve is back. A big shout out to the old man for telling me. (Of course I’d have known sooner if I bothered to read his blog, but….well…..)
If you don’t know Steve and have never read his journal, I urge you to go and read it. NOW.
If you know Steve, you are as happy as I am. Welcome back.
SEND THIS WARNING TO EVERYONE ON YOUR EMAIL LIST.
I hate hoax email warnings but this one is important.
If a man comes to your front door and says he is conducting a survey and asks you to show him your boobs, DO NOT SHOW HIM YOUR BOOBS.
This is a scam, he only wants to see your boobs.
I wish I’d gotten this yesterday… I feel so stupid.
May 17, 2004
One of my co-workers refers to her hot flashes as power surges.
May 12, 2004
The old man is home from work today. It would have been nice if I too could have had a day off so we could have some time together, but alas, that is not to be.
But last night as I was bundling up the dry cleaning to drop off, he offered to drop off and pick up what’s there. This makes me so very happy. I kind of dread going to the dry cleaner because the husband portion of the husband/wife owner team admonishes me about the amount of pet hair on our stuff every time I come in. Excuse me, isn’t it your job to deal with these things? If my clothes were clean, your services would be ummmm…..unnecessary.
Before I left for work I asked Chuck if he wouldn’t mind picking up a few things at the supermarket and he readily agreed. I said I’d e-mail a list to him when I got to work, but hadn’t gotten to that when my phone rang. He was at the cleaners and ready to go to the supermarket right next door. What did we need? I gave him a brief list. Then paused. I needed one more item and debated whether or not to ask him.
“Honey, are you comfortable enought with your masculinity to buy me tampons?” Without even a pause or a breath he said sure and proceeded to ask me what brand and “strength”.
You know, I’m a grown woman. My husband is a grown man. It’s not that this sort of thing is embarassing to me, nor to hub, but I don’t think that in the 10+ years we’ve been together I’ve ever asked him to purchase feminine hygiene products for me. Not because I wouldn’t, I just don’t think it’s ever come up.
Yeah, I’m crazy in love with my husband, because you know, it’s the little day-to-day stuff like this that really matters.
Hmmmm….a little theme for my last two entries. How cute is that?
So I had to take Natasha (also known as Trina, don’t ask) to the vet tonight. For those of you less “in the know”, Natasha is my 23 year old kitty, also known around here as The Empress.
Trina has had what we refer to around here as AB (Angry Butt) for the last couple of days, and as old and frail as she is, not to mention the nightmare that it is for a cat to have the squirts, I took her to the vet. Every trip with her is highly emotional for me as at her ripe old age, I’m always afraid it’s going to be our final trip.
I love our vet’s office. We enjoy a multi-pet discount with our vet, but best of all, it’s a 24 hour vet and you can go, without an appointment, after 7:00 p.m. for a mere $10 extra charge. It is well worth it for me to pay the extra money as you get prompt service and no long waits, if you show up at about 6:55, and that’s exactly when I showed up.
I took my smart black skirt off when I got home from work, but left on the black sweater, and put on black sweatpants.
I gingerly put Trina in the cat carrier and toddled her off to the vet.
Two things you should know about my cat:
1. She’s a mostly-white tabby; and
2. When she’s nervous, especially at the vet, she sheds like crazy.
OK, so perhaps black wasn’t the best costume choice.
I’m covered in cat hair and $350 poorer, but Trina got re-hydrated (because we all know what the squirts can do to you), had some blood work done, got an overall checkup, but most importantly, got some medicine that seems to have stemmed the, ahem, flow.
My old lady seems right as rain again, thank goodness, and my fur problem…..well, nothing a good lint brush can’t cure.