Last Sunday I headed down to my brother’s house for pedicures with my lovely sis-in-law and to cook dinner for the fam (Ethan blew out his knee, remember?). I walked in the door and my niece was standing next to her dad. She looks at me and starts yelling, “Mama! Dada! Mama!” Really?! Look, child, I’m not even walking toward you, okay? Both Ethan and I looked at her and said, “You’re fine.”
About fifteen minutes later, Adri was putting the small fry to bed and Ethan was studying so it was just baby girl and I in the living room. She walks over and holds up a book… “Boo? Boo?” I asked her if she wanted me to read it. “Yes!” was her answer. Clear as day and accompanied by a very emphatic head nod. So I picked up the little bit and put her in my lap and we read the book. She then asked for more so I told her to go get another book. Wash, rinse, repeat. We did this for five or six books. The little faker. She’s decided Auntie Beth isn’t a portent of doom after all, she just kicks up a fuss when I walk in the door. That’s all. She’s hilarious. She’s also calling my sister and I “Naynay” or “Awnie”… both are an attempt at “auntie”… works for me.
After Adri and I came back from our pedicures and the littles were up from their naps, Henrik and I set about making dinner. It was only almond-crusted chicken with steamed broccoli and broiled asparagus, but we had a ball. We made a HUGE mess because I set up a dredging station on the table. The small fry was responsible for dredging in the flour so it might’ve ended up on the table, the floor, the chair, and the aunt. Then there was the moment he dropped a floured chicken cutlet into the egg dish, slopping raw egg everywhere. That’s fine, though. We had a ball and everything could be cleaned up. Dinner was a huge success. And I prepared enough to take some home for dinners this past week.
I’m happy to report that I’ve managed to lose eight pounds in the past few weeks. For that reason, I decided to prepare more chicken this week. It really is delicious so I don’t mind eating it some more. Besides, I don’t actually have time to cook dinner during the week. I have to prepare my food on the weekend so I can simply reheat it in the evenings. And I don’t want too much food in the fridge because I’m flying home a week from Wednesday… YEAH!
Speaking of, I contacted the girls and suggested a Ronald Star Day on the Thursday or Friday that I’m home. It’s a go, though I don’t yet know which day, and I’m looking forward to seeing them! I’m also looking forward to seeing Debbie, my aunt, my folks, and the other brother and sis-in-law. I’ll be home five days and it should be marvelous!
Oh… hang on a sec… I have to change movies.
Okay. I’m back.
Yesterday was a long, but good, day. I drove down to Costa Mesa to see my friend Brooklynn. Remember her? She’s my coworker from seven years ago that I flew out to visit in August. She was pregnant with twins and I came out to attend her baby shower. Well, I went down yesterday to meet Wyatt and Austin. So stinkin’ cute! All smiles and happy to let me hold them and talk to them. We had a fabulous five-hour visit. I also took their baby quilts to them. I only do baby quilts for people who matter to me. I know that sounds callous and cold, but it’s true. I don’t have a ton of friends so I make an effort to spoil the ones I have. And she’s definitely worth the spoiling! I’m hoping to see her again over the next few months. (I’d say something more frequently than that, but she’s the mother of twins and I’m working and attending school, both full time.)
Then I drove 2.5 hours to Oxnard for my cousin’s fortieth birthday party only to get lost and not arrive. It didn’t help that she didn’t put her area code on the invite. Here’s the deal… throughout most of the country there isn’t a large number of area codes on the phone numbers. For example, there are four in Colorado (303, 719, 720, and 970). California is an exception to that rule. It has eighteen. Shoot, when I was a kid, my area code was 213, then 310, then 562. And we didn’t move. I’ve also lived in 323, 626, 714, and 909. I have friends in 619, 760, 951, 949, 818, 661, 805, and 707. Oh, only one of those is in NorCal and that isn’t all of the area codes from SoCal. So now you can see why not having Mandy’s area code is a bigger challenge. I first called a number that has changed. Then one for a water district. Then one that didn’t have a name attached to it… so I left a message. Two actually. I’m pretty sure someone thinks a crazy woman called them. (I’m not worried. I know I’m sane and that’s all that matters.) Then I tried a fourth and the same thing happened. I never made it to her birthday party, but we’re going to try to get together in a few weeks and visit. She’s the cousin closest to me in age. She’s two years and one month my elder.
All I have to say is that I get an A for effort yesterday evening. I might’ve picked up In-N-Out when I got back to Pasadena at 9:00 p.m. What can I say? I was starving!
So I’ve discovered a really useful coping mechanism is taking things little by little, bit by bit, minute by minute. Silly, but true. Working forty hours, going to school twenty hours, and being in traffic ten–all between Monday and Friday–means I don’t look too far ahead. I can’t. If I do, I get stressed. So I don’t. Simple as that.
However, it looks like part of my schedule will be easing up. So will the atrocious work situation. Remember that job I got a call on last week? The one for the company you’ve probably never heard of, but that I know? Well, I did a phone screening on my commute to work Tuesday morning. It went brilliantly. It was supposed to last approximately twenty-five minutes… it lasted sixty-five. At the conclusion, the gentleman told me he was forwarding my information to the manager of the Glendale office with a recommendation to speak with me. He thought I might receive a call within a couple of days. Try ten o’clock later that same morning. She and I played phone tag and finally connected later that afternoon. We had a delightful (no sarcasm) conversation and then scheduled an interview for Friday afternoon.
I arrived at 4:30 p.m. and left at 6:00 p.m. (don’t worry, my instructor knew I’d be late to class… he told me not to come until 7:00 p.m.). With an unofficial job offer (only HR can extend the offer). She did ask me how short of a notice I need to provide to my present employer. I told her I generally shoot for a two-week notice. She asked if I’d be willing to do a one-week notice. She wants me to work a desk for six to eight weeks to get used to their computer systems and then I’d be the supervisor. Okay. Ten minute drive to work and a promotion. I’m in. With a one-week notice. I don’t know the exact pay yet, but it’ll be at or around my present pay. That much I know. Woohoo! But with my short commute and the difference in my gas bill, that’s basically a raise.
So I’m only dragging my butt out to Calabasas for another week. YEAH! (I might be doing the Snoopy Dance about now.) Possibly Monday and Tuesday of next week, but Tuesday is as far as that will go since I’m flying home, as previously mentioned. (Now I’m doing a full-fledged Snoopy Dance over here.) Then it’s off to better things.
And back to the kitchen two weeks from Monday. YEAH!!!
Well, my lovelies… I wish I could write more often, but the aforementioned crazy person schedule prohibits time for fun. But since it pays the bills and gets me where I want to go with my career, I really can’t complain too much.