Friday, August 19, 2011

My Dogs Are Barkin'!

I have a job.  In an office.  We are required to dress in business attire, which quite frequently, includes high heels.  Who on earth came up with the brilliant idea that women who are in charge of seriously important stuff should do it walking on their toes?   Probably a man.  They figured if they had to watch women surpass them professionally, they could soften the blow of their defeat by making it a prettier package.  They wanted to keep us on our toes, literally.   

The other day I was wearing a particularly uncomfortable pair of heels...I headed into  the break room at work and happened upon some of my female co-workers.  They saw me practically limping as I made my way to the water cooler, and Daisy asked "Girl, why do you wear those shoes if they hurt you so badly?" 


To which I responded, "How else am I gonna grab me a man?  I need to find me a wealthy man......no strike that.  I'm gonna be the rich successful one and have me a smokin' hot pool boy named Francesco." The ladies all started laughing.

As if on cue, one of the handsome younger guys we work with struts in the room, and starts digging in the ice machine....I looked at him, smirked and said...


"Hey, Chad..." He looked up at me questioningly."Do you speak Italian?"

Daisy and the rest of the girls nearly fell out of their chairs. 

Saturday, August 13, 2011

Turd Wrestling!

It was precisely two weeks from the day that I had decided to bless my neighborhood with the fantastically bright and cheerful turquoise door.  I arrived home from work, shut off my car, walked to the mailbox, and with my mail and keys in hand, skipped happily to my home's welcoming entryway.  I opened the door, kicked off my shoes, threw the mail down on the counter, and cracked a cold Aquafina. Ah, it's great to be me, I thought.  Work was going great.  My kids were enjoying their summer in Maine.  Things were finally starting to look up.

I set my water down and started rifling through the mail....Bill...credit card offer..bill...bill....Credit Card offer....and hey, what's THIS?

It was a letter from my HOA!   Enclosed was the usual friendly reminder "Thou hast not mown thine grass, nor trimmed thine shrubbery."....but there was something more.  Also therein was another letter.  A letter informing me that I'd violated them and their covenants. I was to request permission of the ARCHITECTURAL CONTROL BOARD to paint my front door.  I sat in my cynical way and wondered how the ACB truly felt after me violating them so.  I pictured a bunch of folks sitting in a cold shower fully clothed just rocking back and forth, moaning....."She wants the turquoise, but we mustn't let her have it...no... she must. follow. rules. must. ask. permission....."

They wanted me to fill out a form, and write them a letter chronicling exactly how I planned to change the exterior of my house, which contractor I'd be employing and also include a sketch of the proposed changes.

I thought of writing the letter in German, to appeal to the imposing fascists....

I thought of asking my nine year old daughter to create a beautiful depiction of our home with the intended (post facto) paint color.

I even considered painting my garage door the same color.

I did none of the above.  Call me passive agressive, a pacifist, or a pansy...while those initial reactions were spooling about in my brain, I knew that just following the rules would be the easiest course of action.  I have kids to raise, and a career to build.  This wouldn't be a battle worth fighting.

As my mother always used to say "Never wrestle a turd, 'cause even if you win, you're still covered in it."


Thankfully, I've retired from all kinds of wrestling.