A new spring, a new leaf.

Some of my favorite quotes of the week:

"Talk about a unitarian state!" The less-than-completely-engaging Dr. Academic, during a work presentation on sub-national units and international federalism, making a joke about France. (I didn't get it either. Don't bother explaining - I'll only be rolling my eyes.)

"I waxes him all the time." The replacement Leader, speaking of competing Wii-style with her husband.

Overheard in line at the very same meeting:

"Do you think she's from Newfoundland?" (If she's not, she's doing a most excellent job of faking it.)

"Use your instincts" Boss-man, describing how I should pursue my files.

It's amazing, really, how much one boss can affect things. I've been the phone a friend for so many - knower of strange detail - but for some reason, I've been having trouble bringing that same confidence and willingness to share knowledge and opinion (god knows I'll do it at the drop of a hat - even less than that - in a non-professional situation) into my work realm. It's just that it's so new (well, four months now) - this desire to hear what I think.

Dude. I got skills. I'm working on using them. I've got to dig the crazy out of the memory banks and strike out. Telling people what I think and why.

There's really no time like the present.

Wish me luck.

Springing forward

So there I was, putting my hair into what passes for a ponytail these days (the regrowth from the post MasterP shed is now at the length that it sticks directly off my head in all directions in a fuzzy aura. I try to tame it down with product and a headband, but even the grippy ones slip off my oddly shaped noggin, leaving me with odder shaped hair. It's pretty fashionable, to say the least.), when I realized that some of my highlights were still visible, despite being done oh, lets say, MasterP + 7 days ago.

Only then, upon closer inspection I realized that they weren't my salon highlights.

They were my "natural, platinum highlights."

oooooh. See, it was cool, there, for a while, when I was pretending that I was doing it to be in solidarity with the mostly pepper salt and pepper BigBrother during the trip north this summer - but now, there they are. All grown out and looking like highlights.

sigh.

I know Victoria's Secret, and you should too.

I'm a fairly brand loyal person. When I find something that works, I tend to keep using it. In the past, I found that to be so with Victoria's Secret's Body by Victoria line. And, because I am who I am, I like things to match. So I buy, and wear, things in sets.

This should not be a surprise.

After years of wear, my trusty everyday BBV's had started to wear. They're a little stretched, and a little pilly, so when the semi-annual sale came around in December, I stocked up, and bought enough matching things that they shipped them free to Mrs. Maiden's winter home. (Not having to ship to Canada? Priceless!!)

After a few days of wear of the set, however; it became apparent that something was not right. I stopped wearing them.

At a recent pedicure, I showed my waist (the part of my torso I was willing to expose in the salon) to Wondermom, who pronounced what she saw to be "not hives, but chemical burns." They are red welts the size of a finger print. Everywhere the seams of the underwear and bra touched. Think straps, underwires, band, waistband....

They've been there for almost a month and are still visible. I'm breaking out in places I usually do not require undergarments - my thigh, the middle of my back, my elbow.

I called VS to complain on Sunday night, at which time Barry (real name used) informed me that despite the fact that he had worked for VS for over 6 years, and this was one of their main sellers, he had never, ever heard of my problem before.

Barry, I'm pretty sure you're lying. I looked it up.

Victoria's Secret is that her bras and underwear contain Formaldehyde. Formaldehyde, my dears.

Giant, red scaly welt causing formaldehyde. They know it, and they keep selling them to you.

Just so you know. Tell your friends.

Amusing myself.

I'm not sure what I was thinking, but Husband was away and I was on my own. Instead of doing a run or any of the other things that could lead to my own good health, I sat on the couch and watched others search for theirs.

Specifically, episodes of Bulging Brides and Last 10 Lbs Boot Camp (which, I feel, might be a misnomer. They are not at the end of a process.)

The concept of a huge amount of work which leads to specific results. Inspiring.

Such that I was so influenced that I thought - what the heck. It's not that great a number between the wedding day and now.....

Yes, yes it was. Tony could have snapped me and my unhappy face for the inspirational 'before' photo, gaps and all.

But on the upside - I found the serape/wrap the Matrix gave me 10 years ago - and it did remind me just how gorgeous my wedding dress was. But it looks like I've got a ways to go if I'm going to wear it to my high school reunion.

Hee. What?

Conversations from the past 10 days

With Husband:
1. 1:37 AM
"Honey, I'm sorry, but you've got to get up. I need your help - there's a really bad flood in the basement."
"Ok. I'm coming."
"I really need your help - it's really bad."
"Yup, I'm putting my clothes on. Where's the flood?"
"In the basement. In the corners. In my workshop. Outside. You'll see."

2. 1:40 AM
"Ok. So the corners are a trickle. I put some towels down. I think we're good."
"It's out here - look - the water keeps filling the window well and leaking into my workshop."
"Ok, well, give me the bucket, and I'll bail it."
"I've been bailing for the last hour."
"Well, how about you let me bail for a while now."

3. 3:30 AM
"You get some sleep. I'll bail now, and then when the kids wake up, I'll go to Home Depot when it opens at 7."

Gaah. That was fun. And wet. And really, really, really cold. But at least the basement stayed dry.

With MlleL:
"I can take my dish to the calendar."
"Thanks, honey."
"I can take ALL the dishes to the calendar."
"Wow, sweetie, you cleared the table - what a good helper you are!"
"It's my pleasure."

Heeeee.

With Mrs. Maiden:
"So next weekend, I'm getting the level 2 healing touch training. You can do it long distance, you know - anything going on with you???"
"uh, well, I went for a run yesterday, so my hips are sore...."

With Wondermom:
"So, I've been thinking, you know how you wrote that post about your voice?"
"uh-huh...."
"Well, I've been thinking about mine when I'm writing. How do you do it? Did you decide on a voice, or...."
"Well, I do think about how I'm going to word something, but pretty much, I like to think that the way I write is the way I talk."
Wondermom: "......."

(hee. I take that as no.)

In a reunion of the dirtiest carpool:
"You know, for argument's sake, and if situations were different, I'd let that big boy in my life."
"Really??"
"Oh, yeah, I mean, private jet? Wherever I like? Seriously, it's kinda a fantasy, you know?"
"yeah. There's another one about a pool, where he says it's time to get out but you don't need to use the towel, just let it air dry - I mean, it's nasty, but I like it."

Yeah, baby. Are you sure you don't want to take a job back at Phase 4? I'm pretty sure I could figure a way to work the condo into my route.....

a secret

ssshhhhh.

More to come later on the past week, but first:

I weighed someone in on Wednesday night. Got right behind the counter. Stamped appropriately and made conversation regarding numbers.

It did not make me wish to go back.

Pin-up Girls

The problem, I guess, about being someone's fantasy is that generally, people don't tell you.

Oh sure, there's that guy with the googly eyes, and well, that guy, and sure, that homeless fellow too, but note that I said generally.

See, I'm thinking of how much better a girl could feel just wandering down the street knowing that somewhere, somehow, she was being thought of in shall we say, a colourful nature. Now, I'm not suggesting anything narsty - lick my boot style love - but just that you, indeed, you, are the rocker of several boats. Not necessarily the ones legally bound to you by promises, convention, and metal.

Wouldn't that be cool?

My darling girl Katie B has been my friend for over 20 years. Twenty years of up and down and way over there and way over here and school and babies and weddings and not weddings and work and no work and everything in between. Katie B and I have always been of a similar cookie mold, except for some intangible things I've never been party to. Katie B was confident in school, and, some might say, flirty. She was, it was widely known, the rocker of many boats. Not actually, mind you, but she walked in that knowledge. That there were many at the high school who carried a torch for Katie B.

Apparently, years later, judging from their reactions on Facebook, she is still regarded with boat rocking and burning things. Now Katie, you've been my friend for over 20 years, and I'm so appreciative of our relationship over that time. I really, really am - it means a lot to me, so I'm going to tell you that I only bear you a modicum of ill-feeling for this. It is not your fault, and I still love you.

But what is it? What is that intangible thing? Katie rocks. She does. She's almost exactly 9 months older than me, she's an electrical engineer doing research and development on hybrid cars, and while doing this, she got her MBA at night. She married a really nice guy, had a super-cute boy, and is a step-mom to two pretty good looking teenagers. (Must note for accuracy that one is now in his 20s.) All this, and she still has those dancing brown eyes and sleek dark hair from high school.

Meanwhile, I am bitingly funny - I am! It's true! I rock the pencil skirt, I've got a master's degree and two kids - both of them made at the same time I was working, please note - ok, it's not engineering, but it's Public Policy, and while I don't do research and development on cars and machines, it turns out I'm really organized and do a pretty good job managing Government finance and planning.....

Oh, nevermind.