No conflict now, it isn't on the schedule.

Things at work right now are crazy. It is a statement I've said before and it translates roughly into something like, "Wow that was a busy week. Sure wouldn't want to have a couple of those in a row." Oh, how I'd love to trade the current crazy for what I've called crazy before!

 We are undergoing the biggest transition I've experienced in the 16 years I've worked there and when it is done it will be glorious. We are getting a tricked out new system that will do all the things we've hoped for from our old, out-of-date system. We're organizing warehouses and talking with companies whose product will increase our productivity. We're revamping the main warehouse so my department will all reside under one roof. When it all said and done there will be much rejoicing in the streets. We will pat each other on the back and say things like, "It already doesn't seem like it was that bad!" and "Ah, wasn't that worth it!" But in the mean time we are all sagging under the unbelievable pressure we've been under for several months.

Today started off with a bang when one of my employees said, "Do you remember I'm out of the office from 9:15 until 11:15 today?" Well....now I do. I thought through the rest of the morning. She and I are the only two that answer phones so if she's out, I'm on phones. I was double booked since I had a management meeting at 9:30. I was irritated with myself for not planning ahead and realizing I was going to disrupt several schedules, so I fired off an email to the other managers explaining the situation and asking if we could move the meeting.

The subject line on my email read "Scheduling conflict". What I meant was "I have a scheduling conflict", but if you read "scheduling" as a verb it takes on an entirely new meaning. My boss sent me back a light hearted email that said something to the effect of, "I had to laugh when I saw the subject because I thought, Marti, are you that much of a control freak that you are now trying to schedule when there is conflict?" Ha!!!!!!!!!! It was the funniest part of my day. I wrote back and said something to the effect of, "Never thought about it but if I could schedule it I would and I'd do my best to schedule it down to zero."

I chuckled the rest of the day thinking of scheduling as a verb. When the printer jammed I thought, "Nope, you can't do that, I didn't schedule any conflict for this part of the day." I thought the same thing when the printer wouldn't work, and when the customer called whose package didn't reach him due to a bad address. "Not right now, it isn't time for conflict" I scheduled conflict for between 3:00 and 3:05 and it isn't time yet.

I usually get to work before most people in the business. I think tomorrow I'll schedule conflict from 7:20-7:21, long before everyone gets there. It might be a rough minute but should make for a smooth day.

You can't make this stuff up....or....my yarn is still missing

I frequently order yarn from a company in Turkey. Even with the ridiculously high price of DHL shipping their yarn is still considerably cheaper than some domestic sources. This company is always quick to process my orders, provides an email with a tracking number, has beautiful yarn and as long as everything goes well with the order things are good. But when there is an error, forget it. Convincing them to provide instant, derriere kissing, Amazon style customer service that American consumers are becoming used to is nearly impossible. And yet, the prices and selection are good enough that I go back.

 I recently placed an order and paid the exorbitant amount DHL charges so that I could have hassle free, quick shipping. As I tracked it I knew something had gone awry and I gave it a few days to see if the package arrived. It didn't. I contacted the yarn company and asked them to research the issues. I had an email back right away stating that DHL had been contacted and he would get back with me as soon as they knew something.

And I waited.

Five days later, I hadn't heard anything so I sent another email asking if someone could tell me something about my package. The response: Your package is delayed.

Well, thank you very much. (In fairness, they did tell me SOMETHING, it just happened to be what I already knew.) Note to self to be more specific in my future requests.

I finally got tired of waiting on the Turkish customer service and contacted DHL myself to get the ball rolling. The customer service rep from DHL called and asked me to describe the contents of my package. I said, "Yarn". He was stunned. "Yarn? From Turkey? Why do you need to order it from Turkey?" It never occurred to him that there is yarn beyond what is sold in Wal-Mart's craft section for making afghan and dish clothes. He asked me to describe it. "Some are orange, some are purple, some are pink, purple and white, some are blue and black variegated, some are brown and gold." He then asked if that was all on the same ball. Um....no. I can't imagine what that would look like.

A day or two later my DHL person called me again to tell me they found some yarn that went to lost and found the same time my yarn went missing. He thought it was mine but wanted to send me a picture so I could identify it. Great. Let's get me my yarn. I gave him my email address and waited for the picture to come in. The email came in. I opened it, and this is the picture:

Seriously? I wrote back and as politely as I could told him that he sent me a picture of a bag, and if he wanted me to identify the yarn he would need to send me a picture of the yarn. That was Friday. No more emails or phone calls since.

Go figure.

For the past couple months the theme of my life has been the proverbial 1 step forward, 8 steps back. Sometimes it is THINK about 1 step forward, 8 steps back. I know there will be a point where there is a pay off for the recent struggle but right now I'm just flat out exhausted from the effort it takes to conjure up the enthusiasm to keep taking that 1 step knowing the inevitable backwards steps are coming.

 I'm not trying to be dark or moody. I'm not dealing with death or illness, or pain. Just worn out and tired. And it will pass.

 Mother nature has never been one to check with me to see if I wish to participate in the annual spring yard clean up. Try as I might winter always turns to spring and with it mowing and cleaning out flower beds and dead branches in the yard. I always wonder where mulch goes between seasons. I buy a multitude of bags of mulch each year and I only stop because there are better things to spend money on! So, in all my spare time I've been working on getting my yard ready for spring and I  get my front walk way looking like this:

The little solar lights are new. I bought them on a whim at a grocery store for a whopping $2.50 each. I've always liked the look, but wasn't holding my breath that they would really work. And despite the lack of logic in which I buy something not thinking it will work but *hoping* it will, I put them in the ground and waited for dark. Lo and behold the little buggers worked. When the sun went down I was rewarded with this:

And they cast a pretty cool shadow:

There have been so many things recently that should have worked and didn't, despite hours and hours of effort and these cheap little yard ornaments that cost $2.50 fire right up the first time with almost zero effort. Go figure. But I'll take it!

The bad new is, you have diabetes.

So after a long while of successfully playing keep away from all things medical and doctor related I have amassed a long enough list of things "I should probably get checked out" that I decided it was time to do the responsible thing. Funny how when you turn 40 suddenly your body doesn't snap back from things the way it used to! Being diabetic and being unreasonably afraid of doctors is a bad combination :-)

With much fear and trembling I made an appointment. Emphasis on the much. My blood pressure at my first appointment was 170 over something. I lamely looked at the nurse and tried to explain that I knew I would epically fail this test and that I would rather be any where else in the universe then right there. I was very fortunate to get a doctor I connected with on the first try. I ran through my list of concerns and she barely batted an eye at any of them. Not that she wasn't concerned, but she just wasn't impressed. Personally, I thought she was going to tell me to get my affairs in order, go home and enjoy what was left of my life. The more relaxed she remained, the more relaxed I was able to become. I did however get her to be a little impressed with a spot on my leg. She looked and looked and looked and finally said, "Well, we can either watch it and wonder if it is pre-cancerous cells or we can make an appointment to cut it out the next time you're here." Yeah, let's just cut it out, like I'm an apple with a bad spot! Only the apple isn't a big baby when it is in a doctor's office! But she's right. Better to cut it out then wonder.

I was supposed to call today for the results of some blood work, and I did. The person on the other end of the line pulled my chart, and I could hear her reading through things. "Yep, that is fine. Yep, that one was normal, and so on. Then she stops and says, except. And pauses. Here is comes. The one where she says I have 2 weeks left. Finally she goes on. "Your blood sugar is high". I tested myself right before going in and it was 124. (80-120 is normal for a non-diabetic). I thought, "Great. So along with skyrocketing blood pressure my blood sugar also spikes when I'm in a tense situation. I'm imagining it was 300 or 400. I didn't say anything and waited for her to go on. She waits a little also. Finally she says, "Your doctor will probably want to discuss a plan with you" Then it hit me. This poor woman doesn't know that I know I'm diabetic. I quickly let her off the hook and say, "I'm a diabetic." I could hear the relief in her voice and she says, "Oh, then you already have a plan." Yep, I've got a plan.

I guess if the worst news I got today was that I was diabetic, I'm in pretty good shape!

We got our money's worth.

I was going through some stuff today in an attempt to weed out junk I do not use and came across this gem.



At first glance it is just a score card from a (semi) local putt-putt golf place. It is so much more though. It is testament to what an adult experiences when you take a 5 year old putt-putting. Mom, Dad, and I took Colby and Kate to Paige's Crossing a couple of years ago. Kate would have been around 5 and Colby would have been around 7. If you've ever putt-putted with a 5 year old, none of this will be startling or revelatory. But. Have you ever recorded how a 5 year old putt-putts? All of the agony of standing around waiting for them to finish a hole kinds of fades once you are done. You file it away and the specifics blur.

I opened the card to see if there was anything worth saving. I don't remember doing this, but it was so funny to see how I recorded the day. Here's the score:



I'll translate in case it is hard to read.

Hole 1, Colby 2 Kate 20

Hole 2 Colby 5 Kate 30 (picked up)

Hole 3 Colby 5 Kate 17

Hole 4 Colby 7 Kate 19 (push 1 pick up)

Hole 5 Colby 4 Kate 7 (2 pick ups)

Hole 6 Colby 5 Kate 8 (wind blowed it--apparently that is what she reported)

Hole 7 Colby 4 Kate 4 (1 pick up and put in hole)

Hole 8 Colby 5 Kate 5 (kick and roll)

Hole 9 Colby 8 Kate 9 (pick up and put in hole)

Hole 10 Colby 8/pick up Kate 50 (2 carry 1 push)

Hole 11 Colby 10 Kate 15

Hole 12 Colby 4 Kate 40

Hole 13 Colby 7 Kate 9 (1 kick)

Hole 14 Colby 4 Kate 6 (kick, carry)

Hole 15 Colby 5 Kate 8

This one is my favorite....
Hole 16 Colby 7 Kate 2 (started at hole)

Hole 17 Colby 5 Kate 9 (started 4 feet from hole)

Hole 18 Colby 3 Kate 27

My conclusion is that with nearly 400 strokes between the two kids our golfing was much more cost efficient than the people that strive for par which would have been 82. If two rounds of golf cost $10, we paid about 2.5 cents per stroke. The golfer who made par paid about 12 cents per stroke.

My Nephew's Sister.

From the minute Kate came out she was a mystery wrapped in a riddle. She marches to her own beat, but that beat seems to be one only she can hear. Funny and smart and coordinated and clever and.....not interested in the spotlight one bit. I've watched her brother enter a social situation where not a single person in the room is the least bit interested in him yet somehow he can insert himself into whatever is taking place. He doesn't need or wait for that social queue that tells you that you are invited. He just likes people and can't imagine that they aren't going to like him back.

Not Kate. I've seen people approach her and fuss and gush all over her. She gets the deer in the head light look, and leans into her mom for comfort while staring back at the person as if she is deaf and didn't hear a word they said. I've seen times when impromptu jam sessions breakout where her brother is hopping around like the village idiot, happy as a clam. Kate is doing something really creative and controled (not just spaz dancing) and if she catches you watching her she freezes up. It isn't an attention thing. She just doesn't like the spot light.

On Saturday Colby hurt one of his fingers in his basketball game. Jami's been trying to decide the extent of his injuries. With her background in athletics and injuries she (and Jake) have tried to tell him that sometimes with a jam you just need to pull it and get it popped back in place. Mr. Histrionics wasn't convinced and has been content to live with the pain and an immobile finger. Until Kate fixed him. He wanted to play with something of hers and she bargained the toy away with the contingency that she could try popping his finger. He agreed. She pulled. It popped. The finger can now bend.

I have no idea what was going on in that little head of hers. While the finger drama is going on around her she just sits back, listens, assesses the situation and inserts herself at the right time. I suppose it could be selfish and ugly and just a way to inflict a little pain on her brother. It could be that she was just tired of the finger being an issue. But for now I'm going with the idea that she knew enough of what motivated Colby to know that he'd never pop that finger on his own but with the right leverage she might be able to help him. She has always been a gifted button pusher. She knows exactly what buttons to push to drive a person crazy. Jami and I have always thought that if she could harness her powers and use them for good and not evil the world would be a better place. Perhaps today she did just that. Or who knows. Maybe it was just the chance to make him cry. That, is the mystery of Kate. I love being her Aunt.

Hmmm....I wonder when they came up with that?

I'm still doing the juicing vegetable thing. When I open my refrigerator I see the vegetables in it and wonder if someone else has moved into my house that I do not know about. I must admit, I get a little rush when I go to the grocery store and actually pick things out of the vegetable area. One time a year or so ago I bought a couple peppers to put in a sauce to marinate some meat for chicken kabobs. Other than that I can't remember ever buying a vegetable in my life. (Other than carrots, corn and potatoes which are more of a starch than a vegetable.)

I've always wanted to be the person in the grocery store with vegetables in her cart. When I walk in the veggie section I feel like I need to tell the other shoppers, "I'm somewhat of a fraud. I'm going to juice these, add some apple and ginger and then DRINK these. I'm not as healthy as it appears." I don't, but feel like I should.

So I get all of my vegetables, which are organic. That doesn't really matter except for you need that piece of information for the rest of the story. I'm looking at my cart, and thinking happy thoughts. I'm not sure if anyone else does this, but I always wonder if other shoppers (and cashiers!) are looking at what I'm buying and thinking....now that is the biggest cart of junk food I've ever seen. I go to the check out and still feel like con artist because I don't even know the name of some of the items I'm pulling out of my cart.

The cashier gets to the beets and is looking all over for the sticker with the number to tell her how to ring it up. She looks up and says, chuckling under her breath, "I don't know if these are regular beets or organic. Hmmmm.....they are organic. Well, what do you know. When did they start making beets organic?" Her tone of voice implied, "Those crazy farmers. What will they come up with next?"

I didn't know what to say.

It reminded me of the time I was knitting what would be a sweater when all the pieces were done and put together and someone looked at it in semi-amazement and said, "A sweater? You can make those?" (Still thinking) "You mean like what you get in Wal-Mart in the clothes section?" Ummmmm......yeah. I guess she thought that sweaters grow on a sweater bush, and Wal-Mart harvests them when ripe and takes them to their stores to sell.

I suppose there are times when I casually listen to the radio and take for granted that the songs coming out of it didn't arrive fully formed. They were written and performed by a human who studied music. That being said, if you show me a saxophone my reaction wouldn't be, "What? You can play a song? Like what you hear on the radio?"

I'm still having fun conjuring up images of farmers sitting around scratching their heads thinking, "Now what haven't we made organic yet.....ah, yes. Beets."