Having Grace

Another page from my book.

Thursday

Cynthia was back. I was in the office, mostly surfing the net and drinking coffee, when word spread that she was back. Constance came hurrying in the room, hauling her paperwork back in.
“She’s back from France. She could be here any minute,” she said frantically, trying to organize herself. Constance was always wearing a calf length black skirt. And the funny thing was that it didn’t matter if it was middle of winter or middle of summer. Always the same skirt. Some of them had a bit of a pattern on them. Some were just black. There were rumors in the office that she was a Mennonite. Nobody knew for sure though. It was hard to say because she was living with Diel, though they weren’t married. It seemed a very unmennonite thing to do, the whole issue of interracial dating aside, which also seemed very unmennonitish.
My other two office mates, Sheila and Nancy, begin quickly shuffling papers on their desks, madly stuffing documents in drawers. I could hear Nancy muttering expletives under her breath. Sheila, a petite woman who very much keeps to herself, made the sign of the cross. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the expletives or because of Cynthia’s impending arrival.
I exited out of my hotmail account and begin pulling up spreadsheets. They were of last quarter, but it didn’t matter.
And then we sat there, poised and ready. But she didn’t come. Not for another hour. We were all sitting there, so tense and anxious. Looking furtively at each other while trying to appear immersed in our work.
Suddenly, we head the clacking of her heels in the hallway. We all picked up our pace. She came into the office and stopped short as she approached my desk.
“Kristina, a word please,” she said, her eyes locked on the Starbucks coffee in my hand. I stood up and followed her out of the office. The others gave me a forced smile, but I could see the fear and the pity in their eyes.

Once in her office she lit up.
“I thought we had an understanding,” she said, closing her eyes as she inhaled.
“An understanding?”
“Why must I always repeat myself? An understanding,” she said, drawing the word out as if she were talking to a child. “You were supposed to be on bed rest.”
“Well, the doctor never mentioned…” I began hopelessly.
“You don’t take your orders from the doctor. You take them from me,” she said, closing her eyes again and rubbing her temples, as though the mere act of looking at me were taxing.
“I did stay on bed rest for a week or so. But then I just couldn’t handle it anymore. I had to get out. And it’s not like my job here is so physical. I’m still sitting all day. Think of it as… chair rest,” I offered with a terse smile.
“Chair rest? What is that, a joke? And what’s worse, I find you drinking coffee!” she said, her voice breaking. She spat out the word coffee as though it were Wild Turkey.
“Oh, well, I… didn’t think. We don’t know yet if… if the procedure was successful, so I didn’t see the harm in it.”
“Didn’t see the harm in it,” she said with a wry laugh. “You may work the rest of the week. I will allow that. But if I see you drinking coffee again, Kristina, I will reconsider the compensation you’re receiving.”
“Fine,” I respond. Fine. I guess I can live without coffee for forty weeks.
Forty weeks. That’s actually a long time. Almost a full year. God help me.
God help us all.
She stares at me, annoyed. “And you’re still standing here because…”
“Oh.” I said, standing up. I didn’t realize I had been dismissed. Stupid me.
“Just one more thing,” I begin. “Uh, about the blastocytes. There are four of them? Because I thought that we agreed on one,” I ask feebly.
“Must I explain everything to you?” she asked, butting out her slim rather aggressively. “We are simply implanting four with the hopes that one of them will implant. If they all implant, we will discuss reducing the pregnancy to a more reasonable number. But we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. All right? Did you catch that or do I need to repeat myself? Perhaps I should write it down.” Her voice was sugary and angry at the same time. She sounded like a kindergarten teacher strung out on coke.
Not that I’d ever had one. At least not to the best of my knowledge
“No. No you don’t need to repeat yourself. That’s fine,” I say, walking out of the room. An odd feeling spread through me. I can’t quite say what it is. Maybe fear or regret or despair, or a combination of all three. It was like cold gravy congealing at the bottom of my stomach. That’s the best way to describe it, though I know it’s a weird metaphor. Because I actually like gravy. But that’s beside the point.

My pet peeve

Today I was totally annoyed. It was only 8:44 am, and yet... my day was already ruined. I will thank C95 for that. Or should I call it C90-crap. I drove Payton to daycare, Gage to school and was nearly at work when I was yet to hear a song. It's not that I don't enjoy Rambling Dave's enlightening banter on bacon. Or not that I don't enjoy Lisa Rendall talk about LA Weight Loss (she's lost 23 pounds, you know. Hooray for you, but guess what?? Newsflash. Not too hard to drop a few pounds when you have CANCER!!!). But I mean, come on. Please. I just want to hear some freaking music on my way to work. And to make matters worse, as soon as I pull up to work they say "Up next- Paralyzer by Finger 11'-- which only happens to be my fave song. I was like 'thanks for playing it now, assholes'. It would have been better five minutes ago when I was actually in my vehicle. I am getting fed up with that radio station. And the truly terrible thing is that there seems to be no alternative. I swear to you that EVERY time I switch it to Rock 102 it's Trooper "Boy's in the big white sports car". And every time I tune in to "MAGIC" (Magic??) 93 it's Hewey Lewis and the News. I mean, can we not have some selection here??? Why must it all be crap????
Other than that not much news with me. Let me see. Yesterday I went to Wal Mart. Here is a list of items that I purchased:
-Panties for Payton (Winnie the Pooh)
-Vitamin E cream (I will thank my dog for eating all the stuff that I got at PicMan.)
-A neck massage thing
-Dora chapstick for Payton
-Hair dye for me
-A mermaid ball (also for Payton)
And I think that's about it. If I remember something else I will add it later. The mermaid ball is working out nice. Payton is enjoying it. So, I guess that's about it for me. Have a nice evening.

Here it is without further ado...

This is it... my tatoo. The color is perhaps still a little off- or maybe my screen is just dirty. Not sure. Anyways, I think it turned out OK.

Breaking Story

Today was an interesting day for me. I went for my consultation at PicMan. Now I know that many of you (two of you, in reality) suggested that I should go somewhere else, but I decided that I really don't care because the tatoo that I want is fairly simple and easy to draw, and also it doesn't matter to me so much exactly what it looks like but it's more the idea that it represents. So anyways. I was at a conference at the Bes., and I though on my way home, I thought, I should go to PicMan since I'm right down here anyways. So I went. At first I felt a little ill at ease, because the area is a bit scary. The KG is next door and it's in a bad state of disrepair, grafiti all over the walls. And I was like what am I doing? A professional woman- here at some run down place like this. I thought to myself that the average observer must have thought that I was a tax auditor or something as I went into the building, for most of their clientele seemed quite different. Everyone in the waiting room had several tats and body piercings. And they were also dressed quite a bit more casually than I was, having just come from a conference. But right when I went into the building I could see that it looked quite a bit better on the inside than it did on the outside. It was clean and bright and the staff was friendly. At first they didn't totally get my concept of footprints, but then one of the artists (Poky) drew me up a picture. It wasn't exactly what I was thinking because I had wanted three sets of tiny footprints, but they can't really go as small as I wanted, because the colors would all just blur together and it would't really look like anything at all. So they had to make them at least an inch big each, which would look stupid if I had all these footprints up my whole leg. So what we decided was three footprints, instead of three sets. And then they say "when do you want to get this done" and I said 'when's the next appointment?" thinking it would be a matter of weeks or maybe even months. But imagine my surprise when they said 'twenty minutes. I just need to go and have a quick smoke before we get started." I was like "really, that soon? Are you serious?" And they were serious let me tell you. So there I was, suddenly filling out forms and signing waivers. It was crazy.
And then it was time. I was crazy nervous when I sat down. My heart was hammering. But I wanted to get it over and done with right then and there. It was a bit painful at times, but I just focused on the conversation I was having with the artist, who was super nice. And it only took twenty minutes, which was good because I'm not too sure how much more I could have handled. It's a weird feeling. Poky said when he was trying to tell me what to expect that 'its a feeling like you've never felt before' and he was quite right about that. The best I can explain it, it was like when you're playing with your cat and then the cat gets carried away and scratches you a little too hard. But it was a really good feeling going out. All of the staff, who are big burly guys with a bazillion tats, were all high fiving me, saying "Welcome to the club, Randine'. So already the memory of pain is fading and I am remembering it as a fun experience.
I won't post a picture now because it doesn't look that great- there's a bit of bleeding and that. But it should be healed within 4-7 days and then I'll post a picture.
As for my husband, he was quite surprised. I had mentioned to him before that I wanted to get a tatoo, but I don't think that he really realized that I was actually serious. So imagine his surprise when I left this morning to go to a conference on Health Quality Council and came home with a tat. But I think he does like it. I suggested that maybe he should get one, but I don't think he's going to go for it.
Well that is it for now. Have a good weekend. I will post picture of tat later. TTFN.

Misadventures in Movie Going

So as some of you may know, today was the premier of Shrek the Third. So naturally, seven o'clock found me waiting in an absurdly long line to pay an absurd amount of money to see a cartoon. And I could blame it on the kids, say that they nagged me and nagged me until I finally agreed to take them, but, truthfully, I have actually been waiting for this day myself. But the movie premier was one crappy experience after another.
I'm not saying that the movie was bad. Because, in fact, I didn't see the movie. I paid to see it, but that was about it. I made sure to get there a half hour early, because I knew it would be a zoo. So the first line up was the parking lot. You had to wait in line outside to take a ticket stub. So that took about fifteen minutes of standing outside in the cold with a two year old on my hip who was rather insistent that she wanted popcorn, which she knew was not forthcoming. Finally, we got our stupid ticket stub and proceeded inside. But then it was chaos. My kids took off and I was left standing in a ridiculous line up. It took about fifteen minutes to get to the front of the queue, and when I got to the front I was informed that the 7 & 7:15 were completely sold out. But there was some space in the 6:45, which had just started. So I said whatever, I'll just go to the 6:45. But then came the third line up. There was a huge lineup to get your ticket ripped. So I waited there for about five minutes. Finally we got into the theater. The only seats left were right smack dab front and center. And by front I mean front. We were in the very front row, our necks craned at an impossible angle to see the screen. So I said I would go get popcorn, because my two year old was still rather insisted that we needed it. I waited in line for about twenty minutes and had moved about a milimiter. The line in front of me was probably about fifteen feet. So I said screw it, I'll come back later. So I went back to the theater. Payton was insistent that she needed to go potty, so we went potty, which took a good fifteen minutes because she must wash her hands very thoroughly with the taps and the soap and the dryers, etc. So then we went back to the popcorn line. Waited about half an hour. Went back to the movie. Caught the last twenty minutes or so. The highlight was when Payton spilled ice cold pop all over my leg and crotch. As soon as the credits rolled we bolted from the place, my sweater tied around my waist like some 80's tennis club wannabe. And then, as if it couldn't get any better- a parking ticket on my windshield. Apparently, you have to have your stub prominently displayed on your windshield at all times. So I've spent $40 already. Owe $35 for the parking ticket. Saw about twenty minutes of movie. According to my calculations that's about three dollars and seventy five cents a minute. Next time there's a movie I want to see, I think I'll wait until it comes out on DVD.
That is about all I wanted to report. The only other thing is that last night I went to Superstore to get dog kibble, and there were two noteworthy occurences. The first is that they got new bags, which are really nice kind of purply with green and really sharp for spring. Too bad that they're going to pollute our landfills and take years to biodegrade and will, ultimately, likely ending up killing us all, but that didn't stop me from getting a few. The other thing was that the guy in front of me was wearing a shirt that said "SMELL MY BAG". I mean what is the world coming to when THAT is fashion??? I mean, I just couldn't believe it. Can you?? I had a good mind to report him to the store manager and have him removed for public indecency, but I guess these days anything goes. First it was pajama bottoms and now its this. Gone are the good old days of Chip and Hammer or whatever those shirts were called.
Well, that is it for now. Have a happy long weekend!!

Defending Frizza

I am writing this as a rebuttal to one miss Jody C, who has made some rather inappropriate comments regarding my choice in serving frozen pizza (which shall be hereby abbreviated to 'frizza' for the purposes of efficiency) to my fellow co workers (if you don't know what I'm referring to- check out the post 'Misadventures in Cooking' and subsequent comments). First of all, I would like to begin by saying that the idea of the lunch on Wed. is to be an informal gathering over a simple meal. Nobody goes to any great lengths, and generally the meals are very basic. People throw together any items that they have on hand, and as such, we have had some rather strange things. I have been introduced to moose stew on one occasion. My one coworker once made ham stew, which was a bit different, but edible nonetheless. The low point was 'fruit soup' which was, sadly, as it sounds... fruit salad heated up and served with some wierd spices. So frizza is acceptable in light of this tradition of preparing easy and economical meals. And secondly, I would like to say that if your only purpose in reading this blog is to be critical of my actions, then I would kindly ask you to find yourself another blog to read, or better yet, write your own freaking blog and I'll just go on there and heckle you. Here is a link to another blog that you may try, though you will have to ask the author for permission to go on it. thirdtimesacharm123.blogspot.com. But bear in mind that the content borders on soft porn. Sheesh. I haven't seen nipples like that since 'The 69th Sense' (which by the way, is NOT a very good show and is NOT the sequel to 'The 6th Sense'- no matter what your husband may try to tell you.) Kidding Lo. Take a pill. I love your belly cast- it is truly a wonderful keepsake.
So that is that. The other thing which I'm wanting to blogcast is that I'm 'sleeping single in a double bed' (To quote one Mr. Jamie Kennedy- a pure comic genius). My husband is out of town so I'm all alone. I'm thinking about starting an affair, but time is running short. He will be home early tomorrow, so I guess I'd better get going. I'm just not that sure about how to embark on an affair. I will say that my husband definately deserves any affair that I may or may not have within the next ten hours. Why does he deserve it?? Because let's recount mothers day. Oh, wait, Mothers Day?? Back up the bus here. Has that come and gone already?? Hmmm. Didn't know that because he didn't get me anything. Which is whatever, fine, I guess. But the thing is, is that even if you didn't have time to get a gift or whatever, then the least you could do would be to try to do something nice for me- even a little thing like give me a massage or make me an omelette for brunch, or even simply state the fact that you appreciate me. But apparently this did not cross his stupid mind, either. Anyhoo. we ended up getting into a big row on Sunday night. And I thought I would punish him by sleeping on the couch. But here's a newsflash for you: sleeping on the couch is no punishment to anyone but your OWN SORRY SELF. God. I had dogs jumping all over me. Stupid leather couch so I was stuck to it. And all the while- he's snoring his freaking head off and sprawled out in the bed. But he ended up buying me flowers on Monday, which was OK I guess but I don't see why I have to throw a CF (Caniption Fit for those not in the know) in order to get a freaking rose. Is it really too much to ask??? Don't get me started...
Anyways, that last line was from SNL on Sat. which Molly Shannon hosted which was hilarious. So... I've got to go now...I have thirteen baby kittens.... and I'm going to France next month for three weeks... so that's probably a lot longer than you'll ever be there...so I'm probably a lot wealthier than you and have way more kittens, too...so.... I guess that's all for now. (Just picture me twirling my hair),
And just in case you didn't know that last bit was also from SNL.
Anyways, that's all for tonight. Peace out.

Having Grace

Here is more of my book, which I hope to write more of tonight!!!!

Monday found me back in the office. There was only so much Jeopardy a person can watch. I began to question my sanity when I started to pride myself on knowing obscure trivia such as Hungarian folk hymnals. I knew that Cynthia had wanted me ‘laying low’ for two weeks, but I simply couldn’t take it any more. And I figured, with her being out the country it didn’t really much matter one way or the other.
Constance looked stricken when I walk into the office. “Oh, my God. You’re back? Already? Are you sure that’s wise?”
I gave her a queer look as I turned on my computer. “I’m feeling fine.”
“Yeah, but, are you sure you’re not contagious anymore?”
“Contagious?” I asked, perplexed.
“Yeah. Cynthia said you had the Avian Flu. That’s bad isn’t it?” she asked, looking distinctly uncomfortable being in the same room with me. She backed slowly towards the door, as though she might make a run for it.
“I do not have the Avian Flu. They just thought that I might, you know how people get paranoid about these things. Turned out it was just the regular flu,” I replied, thinking on the spot. Why, of all things, would she say that I had the Avian Flu? Couldn’t she have come up with something a little more ordinary?
She still looked skeptical.
“I don’t know. You look a little flushed.”
Flushed? I ran to the bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror. Crap. I do look flushed, I thought. There was an uncharacteristic redness in the apples of my usually pale cheeks. I splashed my face with water, but it was still there. Maybe even a tad bit worse. I sat down on the toilet. I tried to tell myself to be calm. The whole bit about pregnant people ‘glowing’ was probably just an old wives tale. In fact, when I thought about it, my sister Erin was downright pale throughout her pregnancy. Everything is OK.
I realized then that I was actually really nervous. Nervous that I would be pregnant. Nervous that I wouldn’t be. I didn’t know what to hope for. But it was too late for second thoughts. Collecting myself, I walked out of the bathroom and went back into my office.
Constance regarded me warily. “Are you OK?” she asked tentatively.
“Oh, ya. Fine,” I said absently.
She gathered her things up from her desk. “I think I’m going to work out of the staff room today,” she said, a little apologetically. “Nothing against you or anything. It’s just that Diel’s on immunosuppressants right now, so it would be a really bad time for me to come down with anything.”
“Oh, OK,” I replied, realizing that she had misinterpreted my mad dash for the bathroom. She made a quick exit, flashing me a weak smile.
Good riddance, I thought.
And don’t forget your curry.