This blog is now retired. My new site is at: Predictably Irrational.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

The Good, the Bad, the Weird and the Ugly

This morning started off pretty good. I got up early enough to *calmly* get ready for work. It would be an early day, as CJ has to be at school by 7:30 and I had a meeting, in which I would be the presenter, at 8 AM.

Anytime I am presenting, I am anxious. Day after day, I chatter and bulldog my way in meetings but they are _other_ people's meetings. Once I have to do something, I get gun-shy.

But things are going well.

Until Mi-Mi rushed off the couch and ran to the bathroom only to throw up before she made it.

I quickly took action, while Tim held on to Mi-Mi, and grabbed paper towels to start cleaning up...only to have her continue and (here's more ugly) splatter all over our floor...and almost ME!

Don't get me wrong, I was extremely worried about her, but I am on the way OUT THE DOOR with no time to spare.

So Tim takes over after we clean up the mess and I'm off.

But not without a hitch. I carry enough things for an octopus but I have but only two hands. All that's necessary is that my driver's side sliding door opens automatically for me with one click of the button...but NOOOO, not TODAY! Not after all that's happened ALREADY. It must not cooperate. So I am shucking bags over the driver's side seat, exasperated at how the morning is going. Is this a sign?

Once I get to CJ's school, the traffic to get to the drop-off point is not too bad. The problem is that the line I get in is a 'turn left' line. And the last time I dropped off, there was a traffic patrol person in control of the flow from either side (turn righters and turn lefters). Apparently that person was sick today because we just continued to sit in the damn line with no progress. So I'm tense already and I just start cursing at everyone ahead of me: GO! THEY'RE LETTING YOU GO!! PAY ATTENTION!!

Course, if they could see me, they would see some maniacal woman screaming in the car at no one in particular.

Drop-off was painful. But I got my big baby girl off in time.

Meetings 1 and 2 go off well. Now it's time for a wallyball game. I pick up my BFF and partner in crime, Kristin, and we're off to the gym. Once there, I grab my bags and shoes...but wait...where the fudge are my shoes??? I swear I knew I left them in the car.

I start slinging stuff in the trunk, panicked: where the hell are my shoes?!?! They will NOT let me play barefoot.

I turned a panicked face to Kristin depicting my despair. But I think: I will find an RFC person and borrow their shoes. I WILL find shoes, even if I have to "borrow" someone's that's just in my view.

When I walked into the locker area, I noticed the recycle bin for old shoes. I made a bee-line for it and found a pair for me: size 9 1/2. I am a size 8. GDit I'm going to force my feet to fit in there.

And I did. They seemed to be fine, except for the big space at the top of the shoe. I only tripped once over my feet...not used to the inch of space that the shoe takes up in my regular stride. So weird but I wasn't going to be defeated by...well, me!

But the good news: we won. We not only won, but we played like we have been playing forever. There's no greater feeling than playing like that: where you feel like you and your partner are in line.

I told Kristin: wow! I never hit like that before, to which she replied that she saw that I hit better when she set me away from the net and in the middle. And it was true because I believe every hit I made well was right where she said it was. I was so impressed that she could "read" that from our game.

So there it was, a good way to have the bad and the ugly go away from my system. For that, I had to do it. I had to tweet this, and I doubt I'll find a better tweet in my life:

two things I learned today about myself: I like it "in the middle and back" and 9 1/2 maybe a little too big, but I can make it work.

BTW, it would be perfect had I separated "may" and "be"...that does bother me that I didn't do this grammatically correct. So even with a perfect tweet, I still can't be satisfied.

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