Class

Yesterday (Thursday) afternoon, I'm sitting in a colleague's office. We'll call him "Him". By way of background, we may have been known to banter a little. I might have just been riding him for stammering when I asked him what his wife did (he was really only pausing to determine into how much detail to go).

Him: "OK, so I'll get this [answer/drawing/chain letter] back to you tomorrow."

Me: "I'll be away all day tomorrow"

Him (faking incredulity): "How come YOU get a day off?!"

Me (getting attitude)(I know, strange): "*Actually*, I'll be in class all day. Saturday too."

Him (feeding on my attitude): "Really? Is it dance class?"

Me (now mustering all the bring-it-the-fuck-on-asshole I can)(possibly going for a smidgen of shock-value)(I can't say for sure)(it was a pretty snap decision): "Yes. It's pole dancing."

Him (not skipping a beat): "I didn't know you're Polish!"

Composure decimated.

I love my co workers (not like that)(don't tell them).

Breathe

If you look to the upper right of your screen (assuming your screen looks anything like mine, which might be a huge assumption, me being only technically ept (how come "ept" isn't the opposite of "inept"?) enough to get myself into serious trouble and not necessarily out of it), you may notice the bio saying "something, something wife/mom/engineer something something". That might lead you to believe that I have some answers or at least suggestions about "balancing it all". HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! [cack-choke-cough]
Ohhhhhhmercy… (Sucker).

Really, that was just a lure to reel in those who might also have some ideas/notions/ANSWERS (preferably EASY answers) and then I could check them out, absorb them, and then I'D have life-balance, and then I could stop blogging and just sip G & T in my perfectly life-balanced back yard (where it would always be a beautiful day)(and summer)(and that perfectly balanced lounge chair would show up on sale, too). Or, OR I could keep blogging about frivolous stuff (without feeling guilty about it)(or feeling guilty about not feeling guilty about it)(and so on).

So anyways, that hasn't panned out (my GAWD you people have a lot of problems!) and I've had to resort to the HARD way (sometimes known as "the only way"). Which pisses me off. Well, not really. Except on some level. Maybe the level where I thought there was another way. This post is making less and less sense. I wish there was some kind of an edit button.

Was there a point? Kind of, though maybe not a strong one. I went in to work today (yes, Sunday). Work is nutty. Like, kind of surreal nutty. I went in to get a handle on it. On my way in, I was kind of pouting. "It's Sunday morning. I want to be lounging in bed, doing my Sudorku, or crossword" (no, that's not code)(or is it?)(no, unfortunately, it's not). After four hours of pretty successful focussing and dragon-slaying, I returned home. We were heading out to my folks place and it occurred to me that I had to switch gears (from engineer) and be those other things. Given the success of the day, and how I was looking forward to spending some (albeit short) time with my family, I started to think that maybe it IS about focus. Be in the moment.

There it is, an easy answer: Breathe, and move on. And breathe again.

[But not when you put the glass up to your mouth, because that will make you choke, and that is just a waste of perfectly good gin]

Do you have any more easy answers? Please?

Unorganized Thoughts on a Block Party

We had a block party on our street yesterday. It was a wonderful thing in that is was not so much DISorganized as it was just NOT organized.

That may sound on the surface like a criticism - which given that I did *absolutely* nothing to make it happen would be not only completely unwarranted and even rude, but would legitimately earn me the title of "That Neighbour" (you know the one) - but it is most certainly not. One neighbour had to go around with a petition getting support to close the street; one had to arrange the closing of the street c/w city councillor support (= funding the $250 permit - thank you councillor!) to do it; one ran around putting notices in mailboxes. Easy peasy. Even I could do it (y'know, if I wasn't such a lazy tool). Message? "Bring a lawnchair & a snack to share."

There was a couple of tables set up that ended up being full of watermelon, pineapple, a zillion bags of chips; wagon wheels & several kinds of homemade cookies. One genius super-mom (the "my-hero" mom on the block that is always doing cool stuff with her kids - and sometimes mine!) pulled out a kids' picnic table and had cookie decorating and playdough (not sure which I got when Pepper gave me a "specially decorated cookie" the playdough and sprinkles happened to be the same colour). Kids were occupied when they got bored of biking / rollerblading / scootering down the car-free street (which they didn't seem to!)

We just sat & visited. Hung out, if you will. No one tried to make it *perfect*. People just don't get too many low-key, high-Q moments any more.

My big contribution turned out to be the moment I said "hey, we need music" and pulled out the iPod and sound dock.

There's something kind of unexpectedly unnerving about bringing out your own music selection. I hadn't really considered that in all the various conversations I had had with my (wonderful) neighbours over the years, there is always a part of yourself that you hold back. I said "screw it" and set up the sound dock.

I announced "I play all kinds of music for my kids and have explained to them that there are plenty of songs with bad words in them and ideas/expressions that they will not necessarily understand and they know they are not to repeat things that are swears and that they don't understand the meaning of. If any song needs to be skipped, let me know and I'll skip it."

No one did. The only song *I* skipped over was "I see you baby" by Groove Armada, as it has a very prevalent "Shakin' that ass" line repeated. That one has taken a very focussed effort on our part - including threats of losing things - to ensure our children don't chant it. I thought I wouldn't put everyone else through that.

The only time I thought it was maybe too loud and tried to turn it down, I got yelled at to not touch it. So, success.

My favourite work-nerd moment was when the kids pulled up the crack-sealant in the road and were using it as a giant, tar skipping rope.

Me: "Dammit kids! You've compromised the integrity of the pavement surface! Now water will infiltrate to the substructure and undermine the supportive granular base layer. Accelerated deterioration is the natural consequence" [crickets]

Neighbour Kathy (aside): "Dude, leave work at work."

Me: "Also, your hands are all black from playing with tar"

Neighbour Kathy: "eww"

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I wrote this earlier today but was not happy with how it all tied together. I just opened it up and decided "If I just add the words 'Unorganized Thoughts on a' in front of the title, it will all make sense!" *genius*!! So I'd better post it before my "yesterdays" don't make sense any more.

Breaking the "F" barrier

I dropped an F-bomb in an email today at work.

I've definitely cursed there before, but despite being in the construction industry, and despite that I work with what I'm pretty sure can at times be a bunch of drunken sailors (metaphorically speaking of course. Only one, who retired recently, actually sails and though I've seen him pretty drunk... but as usual, I digress) swearing is unstatedly verboten. I always get a little I-can't-believe-you-just-said-that quickie glance when it pops out verbally.

So today after screwing up a meeting notice for the third time (and after a pile of crap-on-crap - some work, some Pepper losing her backpack and running crying to the Principal's office because she had no lunch, and a new office staff-type person who hadn't been jaded by dozens of stupid kids losing their backpacks & still gives a crap about the kids [sniff! new favourite at the office!] calling me because she couldn't get a hold of Max because he does try to have a life AND THEN me scrambling to try & track down something for Pepper to eat for lunch, but as usual, I digress...) I replied: "Fuck!" when my dear coworker replied to my meeting notice saying "we're meeting on Mothers' Day?"

He called: "Wow! Stressed much?"

"No," I said "that's how I relieve stress. We're good!"

So the fact that Max won't let me curse in front of the kids starts to explain why my kids do such a number on me...