The New Digs

Well today my division moved to our new work space. The Lord giveth; the Lord taketh away. On the plus side, we are all now in one place as a department. On the down side, I've lost my office and am now in a cubicle with my back to the world.

It's actually not that bad in that my boss got us cubicles that are red on the outside with black trim. The desk tops are bamboo, so there's this awesome Asian vibe to the whole thing. But obviously, there will be no more internet micro-breaking for me. I'm right by the kitchen, and I don't want folks to get the wrong impression.

This is exactly what happened to me at my last job. The irony was, it was imperative I be on the internet. I minuted meetings that covered economic commentary. So call me crazy, but I thought I was doing the right thing reviewing some key articles in the business sections of various papers so I would have some semblance of what had ocurred in the economy by the time it came to minute the meeting. I did this first thing in the morning for about 15 minutes and sometimes on my lunch.

Of course being right by the kitchen, it seemed to everyone that I was on the internet all the time. That's because whenever they came by for morning coffee or to nuke their lunch in the microwave, well, I was. Anyway, I suppose I shouldn't hold any grudge. Since I've left, a tape recorder now gets taken into the meetings on a regular basis so that the minutes can be completed. No harm to the present secretary who needs this. My point is that I know I did a good job, even if no one else recognized it at the time.

But at any rate, I've no desire to court such a perception again so I'll just need to be careful. Sometimes taking five minutes to check the headlines gets you in trouble. People think what they think.

On the upswing, this is probably a good push for me. Being so visible is just going to force me to confront what I don't know and deal with it in earnest. I know I'm smart and I know process like the back of my hand. But we've just posted for a writer position and part of me feels like once again, I've missed the gig I really wanted. What am I going to say? Hey, I know you hired me to whip you into shape process wise, but this is what I really want to do. That wouldn't be fair, and I don't want to let them down.

For the first time in well over half a decade, I feel like I have once again obtained a sane employment situation. I don't work with jerks but a great boss, or a jerk for a boss and great co-workers, or in a generally great division run by a tyranical, narcissistic maniac.

Here's another compelling issue. I got an email from our sales division asking me to sit in on a brainstorming session. I suspect I'm getting sussed out for a role there. Oy! The machinations!

I'm just trying to trust in the notion that I'm where I need to be right now, but it was such a strange day. I've been through so much change in so little time. Our office is great, but sparse. We need stuff on the wall, all our staff in there, plants fer chrissakes. The place needs some life injected into it.

I wonder where we'll be a year from now?

Things That Are Currently Annoying Me

What can I say? I'm in a very self-indulgent mood these days.

1. Love In A Cold Climate only lasted two weeks on TVO.
   
   
2. I'm exhausted and my stomach has that wobbly feeling you get when you're fighting off a cold.
   
   
3. INXS: Rock Star. Why on earth did they do this? .
   
   
4. I've lost my deoderant. Only I could manage such a feat. I buy deoderant. I bring it home. I put it on the table. It disappears. I've been using all natural, aluminum free, crystal, new agey mooka laaka laaka stuff that smells like vinegar. Ew.
   
   
5. The serious Minelli action of my hair right now. No harm to La Liza, but damn I need a haircut.
   
   
6. Madonna's Confessions On A Dancefloor is like a millenium away from being released. OK. It's more like a month, but that's forever in Madonna time.
   
   
7. My cats won't take their pills and I'm going to have to take them into the vet's to get that accomplished.
   
   
8. Macrame.
   
   
9. Celebrities going down to New Orleans to help out in the aftermath of Katrina. The whole "tragedy as P.R. opportunity" thing has gotten real tired. Ricky Martin, I'm looking at you.
   
   
10. Celebrities who make a point of declaring how much they are donating to Katrina relief. See above.
    
    
11. The continual status of my home as "renovation project."
    

Snugliness, Thy Name Is Cookie

It seems hard to believe, but I now have a feline Frankenstein on my hands.

You may or may not remember Cookie. He is the cat I have been fostering since December of last year. Well, needless to say, after the emotional wreckage of "The Toby Incident", as it has become known in Zesty lore, Cookie is now a new and permanent member of our household.

He was just coming out of his shell when Toby came on the scene, and as you know dear reader, I was somewhat concerned that Cookie would regress once Toby had left, resigning himself to a life of haphazard kibble nibbling under the bed.

I need not have worried.

What a total suck.

No seriously.

I have never met a more snuggly cat in my life. He's a completely different animal now. If Cookie's an addict, cuddles are his crack.

I could see the change in his eyes, as if he was saying to himself "Hey, this cuddling-getting petted thing, it ain't too bad. I'll just see how this pans out." I am now a woman besieged. Morning and night, I must bestow my requisite affection upon Cookie. Exhausted, I must then tend to my other feline companions, all equally as demanding. In fact it's worse, with them. They're far more entitled than grateful.

Sigh.

As The Marine so aptly observed the other night "You know, Cookie once recoiled from me in abject fear. Now he holds me in absolute contempt."

"He's coming along nicely."

The CFL, Speedos and Other Considerations

Well, given that The Florence Four have now returned from their exercise in decadence, I decided it was my turn. Milan? Rome? Venice you ask?

Try, Rocco's Plum Tomato on Queensway.

But the locale was unimportant; the company was. Tonight I had a great dinner with "Dallas", my friend of many years. She's special in the way The Guru and Ragdoll and the Duke are special. She's a friend who understands me in ways no one else can.

She's been going through a very similar transition to myself, asking serious questions about where she is in life, trying to connect with herself physically and get stronger. She's been working out religiously for the last three months with a personal trainer, a former CFL player no less. She was telling me about how hard it can be to keep working out sometimes.

Yah. I'm sure it's REALLY tough getting motivated. Hell, put that CFL player in a speedo and I'd be an instant tri-athlete. (Hey y'all, I'm in a committed relationship. I ain't dead.)

My conversation with Dallas ran the gamut: new jobs, future plans, recent high school encounters, workplace wingnuts. And Dallas makes me laugh. She can be so self-deprecating about her need to control things sometimes, her complete intolerance of ineptitude, her low crap threshold in general.

Sometimes, there is nothing more satisfying than dinner with a friend, and a fully exhausted conversation at the end of it.

Hiatus

I'm taking a break, and I'll see y'all in about a week.

Love,
Zesty

Dateline: Friends, Romans

TWO COUPLES SOUGHT IN CHILD ABANDONMENT CASE

Toronto - Officials are seeking two Brampton, Ontario area couples after it was confirmed that they left for a decadent tour of Italy on Tuesday - without their children.

"It's absolutely shocking." noted Chucky Burritto of the Children's Aid Society. "The law is quite clear regarding age of majority." he noted. "Still, the oldest child, a daughter, is only 35. You just have to shake your head sometimes."

Friends, Romans contacted the eldest child in question. She had been picked up by authorities after forcing public transit riders to engage in yoga poses in a bus shelter. She later made a statement that not having her mother just a phone call away had sent her over the edge. She thought a few Little Boats and Sun Salutations might help her relax.

"It all just went off the rails somehow." She has stated. "I thought the yoga would help me relax. Then I thought I'd be even more relaxed if everyone was doing it. Next thing I know, I've got an elderly gentleman in a head lock because he won't do Downward Dog and I'm screaming 'OM Goddammit you bastard! OM!' I've never been so ashamed."

Friends, Romans also located another eldest daughter. When asked to comment on this sordid state of affairs, she would only say "I have no parents."

Interpol has alerted airport authorities worldwide. Agents last sighted the two couples at a gelato shop in Florence. The apparent ringleader of the group, who bears a striking resemblance to James Gandolfini, was signing autographs to that effect for unknowing Japanese tourists. The other male was at the gelato counter ordering "something fruity" when a short haired female shocked store patrons by breaking a bottle of San Pellegrino against the wall while declaring "'Mon then Mary. You git that bastard on thi left. This wan's bocces are mine."

Bedlam then ensued. The two couples were last seen heading for the Ponte Vecchio, no doubt to purchase a few sets of leather gloves to prevent the leaving of finger prints during what is sure to be additional criminal activity. More details to follow.

This Magic Moment

I've had a few interesting encounters over the last few days, little snippets of delight that I've encountered purely by happenstance.

The first was late last week as I walked around the front of my garden to look at the wildflowers in front. They had seeded there by themselves and I was contemplating moving them elsewhere in the garden. But as I came around to where the flowers were, I discovered, two completely different flowers had also appeared, one purple and one a vibrant yellow. Have never seen them before in my life.

Then yesterday I was looking out the window of my bathroom. I do this often because the street on the east side of my house looks very Coronation Street. I try to imagine the neighbourhood when it was cobblestone streets and brick houses, not the insul-brick and siding hell it is slowly beginning to emerge from. So there I was, looking out when one of the biggest monarch butterflies I have ever seen fluttered right by, lingering for just a moment a mere foot from the window. Then it whirled away, swept around the corner and up the other backyards in a turbine of wind.

Today I was in the bathroom at work. I went to the stall at the end because it has a window and is a little roomier. I have this thing for views, and this one is stellar, even if it is from a loo. It looks eastward towards downtown Toronto and you can see the spiky spine of the core trail up north. So I open the window and bham! a HUGE spider's web directly in front of it with the very center right at my eye level. Amazing.

I wonder why I haven't noticed any of these things before? Were they always there? It's like getting an unexpected present every once in a while.

Then again, my mother maintains I've always been easily amused. You know what? I'll take it.

Why Do Some People Open Their Mouths? Why?

From the Economist in regards to Hurricane Katrina:

Race is inevitably a factor. Most of the New Orleanians seeking public shelter are poor and black. Barbara Bush, the president’s mother, earned no thanks from him for her remark that because many survivors “were underprivileged anyway”, their Astrodome quarters are “working very well for them”.

Barbara, go bake an apple pie or somethin' and while you're at it

SHUT THE HELL UP.

You Learn Something New Every Day

Well a few housekeeping items if I may....

First, more substantive blogs are coming. I'm in the process of drafting, but my brain is much in need of diversion this evening. Unfortunately, it's looking like I'll have to read my MSProject bible instead.

Secondly, I discovered a way to fix my comments settings so that anyone can post here, i.e.you don't have to have a blog. But I tell ya, the first whacko commie nutbar to try anything and the settings change right quick.

That goes for the facists, homophobes, racists and acid washed jean lovers too.

Firm but fair, I think. Firm but fair.

True Confessions

As part of a continuing series, Friends, Romans presents another installment of:

TRUE CONFESSIONS

1. In the summer of my 16th year, I had my first office job. The office was close to both my parents' respective offices and they would take turns picking me up. One night while waiting for my mother, a lady pulled into the parking lot behind me, u-turned and stopped in the lane way to my right. I assumed she needed directions. Of course, I realized I was wrong when she said "Excuse me. But your skirt's stuck in your pantyhose."
   
   I of course thanked her, and then silently prayed for a lightening bolt to take me on the spot.
   
   I think "stuck in your pantyhose" doesn't quite cut it. "Wadded into a ball and stuffed in completely" might more adequately describe my state. And funnily enough, it was a searing July day. Everyone was complaining about the heat. As I was leaving to wait for my mother, I walked across the parking lot of the complex I worked in and thought to myself "What a bunch of whiners. It's not that bad." Obviously, I was unaware of my built in air conditioning.
   
   But perhaps what's most disturbing is that I went to the washroom after lunch, which means I was walking around my office in this state for the better part of an afternoon
   
   To this day, I can't wear a skirt and go to the bathroom without double checking when I'm done.
   

My City of Ruins

Whilst immersed in my conference the first few days of this week, Hurricane Katrina was a peripheral happening, one of the many ferocities that nature dreams up for the southern United States every year. As we spent three days speaking of new ideas and directions, meeting each other and checking voicemail in the in betweens, "that big storm" (as was the term used most often) began to emerge as something much more sinister by the time we finished.

We had thought it was bad on Monday when reports were coming out saying 55 people had died.

Birth to the present, and we've now spent a nearly a week awaking daily to yet more headlines indicating that what couldn't possibly get worse, has, and that the hope of the New Orleans populace is steadily sinking lower than their city has over the past 30 years. (Apparently some good folks at the Army Corps of Engineers knew about this, but you know that pesky funding for the levies just never seemed to be a priority.)

I spent some time today on websites, listening not once, but twice to Mayor Nagin of New Orleans rage against the Bush machine. (The irony of having to watch an army recruitment ad before listening to it was palpable. CNN Programming? HEEELLLOOOO??) Nagin didn't identify the elephant in the room, so much as herd them into a pen and name 'em all. Hell, he could probably tell you each one's favourite food. It was the kind of bravery that elicited both my admiration and sympathy, a bravery borne of the desperation of the most dangerous man in the game: the one with nothing left to lose.

I couldn't escape how much of an anomaly Nagin was. Why? Because somebody, finally, was actually spelling it out and taking the Bush Administration to task. There was no "spin".

Conversely, I can only surmise that the media's attention on the "blistering criticism" of the Bush Administration is the work of a bunch of cowards. No one in the media is running scared because they don't have to. The aftermath of Hurricane Katrina and the inability of the United States government to respond to it is the result of the Bush Administration's simplistic, jingoistic and marginalizing way of dealing with everything writ large. There can be no denial of this. What's so enraging is that Katrina's devastation was a foreseeable result, but "planning" has never been Dubya's strong suit. I think he's finding it hard to keep shifting everyone's attention to the "evil doers" while the Bonne Soeur of the American south is literally drowning.

Now the troops are arriving in New Orleans in meaningful numbers and may be able to bring order and comfort to a city so sorrowfully lacking in it, so classicly left to fend for itself.

Katrina has taught us a good lesson. She has demonstrated the all too real results of black and white politics that allow for no grey areas, no evaluation, no smarts. Katrina has shown us what happens when governments prioritize ideology over ideals, politics over practicality, hubris over humanity.

As Bowie so eloquently put it, "Where's your shame? You've left us up to our necks in it."

Once More, With Feeling

Well I am now in my process of conference recovery. It was an exhausting, yet informative three days. I shall certainly be giving you the highpoints.

In the mean time, you can check out my latest horoscopes here.