WanderingAmylessly 2.0

Working hard for something we don't care about is called stress; working hard for something we love is called passion. --Simon Sinek

For the first time since I started working at my job in 2008, I received something in interoffice mail today. A runner hand-delivered the bright blue envelope around 11:30. I thought, "Surely you must be mistaken. Who would be sending me anything?" But there it was. Anticipation built as I unwound the string enclosure and opened the flap to find a smaller envelope inside. In bold cursive: Thank You. Complete with a smiley face. It was a $10 gift card to a chain restaurant. You're thinking, 10 bucks to a chain restaurant...big deal. It made my week. Turns out it was a thank you from my manager, a small token of gratitude for my hard work and dedication on a project. I went above and beyond, and she acknowledged it. That gesture goes far beyond the wings and soda the card probably won't even cover. (I have since found out that a content specialist on my team actually suggested the award for "diligence and outstanding copyedit skills"...which makes me even more

We're wrapping up Henry's first short-course swim season. He didn't qualify for state, so he has limited practices this week and next, then a few weeks off before long-course begins. He had a terrific season. He grew as a swimmer, and his very last meet -- he came in 6th place in the 100 free! He even won his heat! I think we're all tired of the constant demands of swimming -- practice, meets, volunteering, special events, and so on. Tonight, it's taking every ounce of responsible Mom in me to get him there. I'd rather curl up on the couch. He'd rather watch tv or play computer or do just about anything but swim. However, the guilt's got me. So we're on our way to Mercer Aquatic Center. He'll swim laps. I'll run the treadmill. And we'll stop for dinnertime treats on our way home. My sore throat says "soup." Henry yelled, "Chocolate!" He's in luck though. Girl Scout Cookies just came in. So there's always the ba

What I Am -- Edie Brickell and the New Bohemians Closer to Fine -- Indigo Girls Nightswimming -- R.E.M. If No One Ever Marries Me -- Natalie Merchant Don't Talk -- 10k Maniacs The Story -- Brandi Carlile The Lucky One -- Alison Krauss & Union Station Turning Tables -- Adele One of Those Days -- Joshua Radin The Frug -- Rilo Kiley Back 2 Good -- Matchbox 20 Because of You -- Kelly Clarkson

"Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another, 'What! You too? I thought I was the only one.'" -- C.S. Lewis

As I was driving to work this morning, I grabbed the first CD on the top of the stack, stuck it in, and got a good chuckle. I had opted for a CD instead of the radio, which was filled with sappy love songs and lame DJs doing their "what's the worst Valentine's Day gift you ever got" schtick. This was the song that blared from my stereo. I thought it was sort of perfect for the wrong-side-of-the-bed mood I woke up in. I apologize in advance for the naughty words and the irreverent take on the day. It's just one of those days... "Break Stuff" by Limp Biskit It's just one of those days When you don't wanna wake up Everything is f***ed Everybody sux You don't really know why But you want to justify Rippin' someone's head off No human contact And if you interact Your life is on contract Your best bet is to stay away motherf***er It's just one of those days!! It's all about the he says she says bullsh** I think you better quit Letti

Listening to bad morning-drive radio this morning, I caught a bit of a story about "What was the worst Valentine's Day gift you ever received?" Completely contrived and extremely overdone, every year, since, oh, the beginning of time. But a couple of the callers made me chuckle. Such as: -- The woman whose boyfried gave her an electric toothbrush. It was a really expensive toothbrush, the man exclaimed. It was a toothbrush, the woman reiterated. Either you think I have bad breath or oral hygiene habits. Or you're just romantically clueless. And imagine how many beautiful roses (or lilies or orchids) that money would have bought... -- Actually, there were many "My boyfriend got me a _____________" ... fill in the blank with the name of an appliance. Toaster. Treadmill. Bathroom scale. Can opener. -- The woman whose boyfriend gave her an Alice Walker book. She loved Alice Walker. Favorite author. But the book was about...female genital mutilation. -- Groceries

Green glow in blackness 10:30 Eyes shut tight become a canvas for conversation, repeated rearranged reinvented 11:45 Images of next day, next week, next month Flutter like flip-book pages. End. Begin again. 12:18 Toss. Turn. Fists grip tangled cotton sheets. Push a wandering mind Deeper into the pillows 12:57 What could I be doing. If I weren't here. 1:06 Staring into the dark. Green glow silently screaming.

Life is short. Break the rules, forgive quickly, kiss slowly, love truly, laugh uncontrollably. And never regret anything that made you smile. -- Mark Twain

Are things destined? Or do they just happen randomly? "Well, look who I ran into," crowed Coincidence. "Please," flirted Fate, "this was meant to be."

Hey, haters. Guess what? Love wins. The Court of Appeals has just ruled that Prop 8, California's voter-approved ban on same-sex marriage, is UNCONSTITUTIONAL! That means the U.S. Supreme Court could decide in the next year or so whether gays and lesbians nationwide have the right to marry. In the meantime, Iowa's ahead of the curve . And we have the perfect spot for a ceremony: UUSIC !

I'm surprised my iPod doesn't get stuck playing only this song after I replay it again and again. Kate Voegele -- Forever and Almost Always

We have a sitter!!!! Let the ticket buying commence. I won't believe it until my butt's in the seat at the theater and the lights go down. But I'm cautiously optimistic that I'll be out and about the evening of Feb. 16. I can't guarantee I'll be wide awake at work the next day.

Alan Jackson's not much my music scene. But I love this song. And it's Jimmy Buffett!!

Whenever I slip and say, "We need a babysitter," Henry exclaims, "Why do they call it that? It sounds like someone's going to sit on the baby?!" And quickly follows it up with: "And I am NOT a baby." No, he's not. But he's not old enough to stay home alone. (No, not even with two quazi-responsible dogs watching over him.) Which puts me in a world of woe. We thought we'd found the perfect sitter, Elie, a high school junior who shares Henry's interests -- Star Wars, Harry Potter, Gods and Goddesses, and Wii Jeopardy. Then she had to go and inconvenience us by becoming a foreign-exchange student in Denmark this semester. She left us names and numbers of some of her friends. But I would just like to say, teens these days are entirely too social and active. It's those blasted colleges, expecting well-rounded young adults. How dare they! The potential sitters I've contacted are too busy, in sports or school concerts or theater rehears

Last week, the editors debuted our signage that asked for respectful voice levels when conversing around us. This week, the rest of the company seems to have fallen in love with our tactics. I've counted a half dozen notes tacked up in kitchen areas, by the copier/printer, and in the bathroom. There are lots of people doing naughty things in our office. Or, perhaps other people are super hypersensitive. And cranky. And generally curmudgeonly. After reading the signs, I learned that: 1. Someone is stealing food from the refrigerators. I recommend everyone start spitting in their food. Is that passive aggressive? Maybe just gross. Not sure it would curb the offending actions. Might empower me a bit. 2. People are flushing things down the toilet that shouldn't be there. I think I'll just leave it at that. (Reading that makes me feel 5 years old.) 3. Whoever owns that toaster needs to take it home. It is a fire hazard. 4. Another refrigerator-related missiv

I have faults. Not going to sugar coat it. We all know about my manic depressive nature. When the mania manifests itself, as I predict it's doing right now, I don't need sleep. I crave intimacy and attention. I'm desperately needy. It's not necessarily a negative thing. I'm not angry or hot-headed. I'm confident and conspiratorial and unscripted. The texts call it "impulsive." Tending to act without thought. Thing is, I don't see it as not thinking. I weigh the moment for its merits. And usually do or say what I feel. It seems to be a choice. Maybe the moment it stops being a choice, that's when I should worry. (I could really use a filter.) For now, I like some of the "impulsive" sister words better. capricious devil-may-care emotional fanciful impetuous instinctive intuitive passionate spontaneous whimsical Care to join me in a fanciful whimsy? At the moment, my impulse is to ditch w