It Is Finished

Nope, I haven’t quit yet. Neither have I made a final decision. “Then what is finished?” you query.

I finished telling everyone (a.k.a. the important people in my life) that I’m quitting my job and what options I’m looking into. The overwhelming responses have ranged from, “Go for it! It’s about time you got outta there!” to the more demure, “I think this is a good thing for you, you need a change.” What can I say? I have fantastic family and friends. They’re supportive. Three people have expressed concerns… one coworker, one friend, and my pops. Refocusing on Pasadena as opposed to Dallas and Pasadena and telling them I’d be picking up a full-time job in my industry has alleviated some of their concerns, though. After all, those concerns involved picking up additional debt (not working and taking on college loans), not having health insurance (something that was never an option for me for obvious reasons), and splitting locations and moving more than once… all valid concerns. There are a couple other concerns still out there, and I’m not brushing them off. They’re all worth serious consideration.

When I started taking a more focused look at Pasadena, I sent an email to a friend of mine who used to be a Bodily Injury (BI) Supervisor when I was a Non-Injury Supervisor. I asked her what the going rate is for a BI adjuster (which we both currently are since we were both laid off from our management positions) with experience. Way-ull… it’s niiice. And significantly more than the pay here in Colorado. I’d be able to put rent on top of my existing monthly obligations and still pay down the remainder of my debt–while going to school! Plus I’d still be growing my 401K and have the safety of health insurance in the event my body nose dives during the 21-month course of study. I’d have no personal life Monday through Friday for 21 months, but I’d have health insurance! Silver linings, right?

Anyway, Debbie and I tried–again–to take each other to lupper (lunch/supper) at Tucanos. <sigh> Third time’s the charm? We walked in and were told they weren’t accepting walk-ins until 9:00 p.m. Um, we walked in at 3:00 p.m. I checked their signage… nothing about not taking walk-ins. When I got home I checked their website. Nope. Nothing there either. So, I sent an email to the manager to let him/her know we didn’t appreciate having our birthday plans foiled. We ended up going for hamburgers at Five Guys and then Glacier for dessert. Gelato, to be exact. I chose a scoop of brown sugar cinnamon (think snickerdoodle ice cream with no snickerdoodle cookies in it… sooo good!) and a scoop of stracciatella (a.k.a. Italian chocolate chip ice cream). Mmmm. The only fruity flavor that interested me was lemon poppy, but I’ve had it before and didn’t think it would go with the brown sugar cinnamon gelato. Man, I love homemade ice cream and gelato.

I also got to see my friend Sarah when I went over to the clubhouse to have them test my keycard. Turns out it was wigging out due to the butt cold weather we had. 7° F to be exact. Like I said, butt cold. I’m planning to hit the gym tomorrow. And I plan to go Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday before work if I can. I also plan to resume upon returning from California on Sunday. (I did mention I’m flying to California on Wednesday night, right? Adri’s commencement? That whole thing? If I didn’t–oops!) I told her what is going on… her response? “We’ve got to get together many times before you leave?” Again… supportive friends. Whether or not I go to culinary school, it’s really nice to be so loved on by the wonderful people in my life.

Top this day off with chores around the house and a pedicure and it’s been a pretty darn good day.

Need I Say More?

Another great disappearing act easily explained away. Okay, so here’s the ‘splanation. No, never mind. A picture, they say, is worth a thousand words. So here you go… photographic proof that I’ve been otherwise occupied.

See, this coming Sunday is my birthday. I will be 37, in case you were wondering. Now I have rules when it comes to birthdays. Rules I take very seriously. Here they are:

1. Thou shalt not work on or around thy birthday. My birthdate is April 14, I’m off work this year from April 5-April 16.
2. Thou shalt never lie about thine age. I’ve earned every single solitary minute of every hour of every day of every year… by blood, sweat, and tears, they’re all mine!
3. Thou shalt celebrate thy birthday as frequently as possible. And I do so with gusto!
4. Thou shalt stretch thy birthday celebration out as long as humanly possible. As previously stated, my date of birth is April 14… I’ve celebrated in July, August, and October–yes, I’m serious!
5. Thou shalt have ice cream cake from Baskin-Robbins and the dinner of thy choosing; the order of which you partake of these goodies is up to the birthday person. First, the cake is very specific… roll cake with mint ‘n chip or chocolate chip ice cream and fudge for frosting. No, there are no substitutes. Don’t try to pass off Cold Stone or DQ cakes. Nothing doing! Second, I like to eat roast beef, mashed potatoes, and gravy for my birthday. Mom’s recipe only, thank you.
6. Thou shalt never turn down presents. Duh.

I actually flew home today… nope, didn’t get stuck in Salt Lake City again–thank goodness! Actually, all four legs of my flight were pretty painless. And I had a fabulous time with Ethan, Adri, and the kids. On Friday, my sister drove down and we all went out for Mexican food to celebrate my birthday. We had a great time sitting on the patio, talking and laughing as we partook of some good eats.

Sunday afternoon we bundled up the kids and headed out to the ice rink to watch Ethan’s team play their game. I had the sweet pea in my lap and handed my camera to Adri. Claire literally fell asleep as this photo was being taken, but she’s impossibly adorable in her cozy, pink bear suit. And look at that face! We couldn’t get Henrik to stand still long enough for a picture of the three of us. Ever tried wrangling a two-year-old for a picture taking opportunity? Let’s just say that if they’re not in the mood, it ain’t gonna happen.

The picture up at the top was nothing short of miraculous. But he was distracted by the bedtime story. And yes, we’re all happily in our jammies. I love the CANADA shirt because it’s as big as a tent after losing all of my weight, but it’s so dang comfortable I refuse to get rid of it!

Two highlights of my trip home… first, when I arrived, Claire would only look at me with a very serious expression. Like she was trying to figure out if I was friend or foe. She woke up this morning whilst I was preparing to head out to the airport and Adri brought her in for one last goodbye. The sweet pea was all grins. She has been for a few days, actually. I think she decided I really was her favorite Auntie Beth (a.k.a. Annie Bef if Henrik’s doing the talking), just as I’ve been telling her. I explained she also has a favorite Auntie Julie (a.k.a. Annie Jewie) and a favorite Auntie Ally (a.k.a. Uncle Ally… no, we’re not sure where he got that moniker from).

Second, my oh-so-adorable nephew was coming down with a cold last night and exhausted from a week’s worth of short naps. The poor kid wasn’t able to hold it together and was crying over the slightest things. He came into the living room after he’d had his bath and brushed his teeth to say goodnight. “I doan wan to take a nap, Annie Bef!” I know buddy, I know. So I picked him up for hugs and kisses and to tell him I’d be gone when he got up this morning because I had to be at the airport at 6:15 a.m. So I lifted him up in my arms and his legs were dangling like he was a rag doll. He had both arms around my neck with his head resting on my shoulder. One hand was twirling my ponytail–it’s a Henrik-thing that he does when he likes and feels safe with the person holding him–and the other was patting my shoulder. When I asked him for a really big hug because I was leaving, his little arms tightened up. It was precious. The kind of memory an auntie worth her salt hides away for safe keeping.

So there you have it folks. The great mystery has been solved. I’m back home now–boo. And I hustled over to PT as soon as I arrived home because lifting those two kids up and down tweaked my back and turned my pelvis… both bad. Scott worked on me today and we set up another appointment tomorrow since it’s an acute flare. I should be right as rain in no time and then I’ll detox off my meds since they are firmly in my system at the moment.

Alrighty… this little chicky is tired and needs to get to bed. Talk to you later!

Whew! Me Tired!

Left to Right: Dad, Mom, Jim, Marilyn, Ally (the sister-in-law), and Brian (the baby brother–I can’t say “little” brother, he’s 6’3″)

The great cooking adventure of Easter 2013 has been survived. Barely!

Saturday, I ran around doing the grocery shopping for the goods I needed to cook, bake, and cook some more. Prior to that trip, though, I made butter crust for my cheesecake and started the vodka crust for my pie dough–Houston, we have a problem. I pulled out the bottle of vodka I store in the freezer, knowing all the while it was almost empty. I also knew I had a second bottle I had purchased last time I baked because I knew it was getting tight. I have no earthly idea where I put bottle #2. That’s right, I searched high and low and couldn’t find it! Bear in mind, Beth does not imbibe. EVER! I don’t like the taste of alcohol. How exactly does one lose a bottle of Grey Goose?! Especially if they don’t drink?! Apparently, with great skill. I had to add “liquor store” to the list of errands. I had to be the only non-drinker in the joint and I walked out with a 1.75L bottle of Grey Goose Vodka. Not joking.

(Yes, this is Beth’s world famous cheesecake. Well, it’s world famous amongst the minions who have eaten it. It’s better than anything you’ll buy in the store or a restaurant. Totally serious. And behind it? The chocolate silk pie. And yes, there’s a handprint in the cheesecake… don’t ask.)

Anyway, amongst my errands, I stopped to see the brother at his restaurant… first, to get some smoked turkey for eating purposes. Second, to show off a new sparkly that arrived on Friday. And third, to cajole him into coming early yesterday to help me cook the chateaubriand because my back just didn’t feel right. Boy, am I glad I did! Before calling it a day on Saturday, I prepared a breakfast strata and a scratch green bean casserole (no cans of cream of mushroom soup or green beans were harmed in the making of this casserole–fresh green beans snapped and blanched, a homemade mushroom cream sauce from sautéed mushrooms, a roux, cream, and chicken stock). And, I finished the cheesecake. By the time I was done, it hurt to stand, sit, bend, twist, and pretty much breathe. I took drugs and went to bed, hoping against hope the spasms would recede by morning.

Sunday, I joined my parental units at church for a fantastic service… I quite possibly had the worst posture in the sanctuary. I felt like I was 86 years old, not 36 years old. Oy veh. After church, I came home to cook and bake some more.

I finished the vodka crust and then proceeded with making a chocolate silk pie. After that, I sautéed mushrooms again, this time for the smashed potatoes that accompany chateaubriand. Once the mushrooms were done, I backburnered them, literally. I pulled out another saucepan and sautéed shallots (I’ll cook with onions, but under no circumstances will I ingest them!) and thyme in some olive oil, then I deglazed with some merlot, reduced the mixture and added beef trimmings and beef stock to reduce into a sauce. For the fifth time (out of five), the sauce reduced without thickening. I have determined the next time I make this, I’m making a roux. I’ve pretty much perfected the art of using a roux, so I’m gonna!

The brother and sister-in-law arrived around 4:00 p.m., and not a moment too soon! I walked him through the chateaubriand while sitting because my back was once again fatiguing at a rapid pace. I had no desire to repeat the spasms from the night before. Brian’s been wanting to learn how to make the chateaubriand, so this provided the reason. He did a fantastic job!

The rest of our meal consisted of a ham that Mom brined for fifteen hours and then baked with a sage-herb rub. About halfway through the baking process, she began coating the ham with an apple cider and brown sugar glaze. I’m not usually a big fan of ham. I tasted that stuff and it was fantastic! I also made buttermilk mashed potatoes to accompany the ham. Mom made glazed carrots as well.

After dinner–which was thoroughly enjoyed by everyone–Brian took a a couple of photos for me. See, today was a horrible day. Jim and Marilyn left Colorado Springs to drive to South Carolina. Forever. They’ve been like grandparents to me for the past four years. They are absolutely precious! They loved on me with hugs and kisses, I-love-yous, and prayers for a spouse (nope, not joking… Marilyn is diligently praying for a man to trip over me). They anxiously waited to hear about my 2.5-week trip to Europe in 2010 and then my 2.5-week up the east coast this past year. They oooed and aaahed over the photos from both vacations. They’ve had me over to Sunday dinner, I had them over to try chateaubriand the first time I made it (“I thought you’d never ask,” Jim would say whenever he received an invite). We’ve gone out to dinner many times. We’ve watched USC play whomever in college football (one of their sons graduated from USC quite awhile back). Like I said, they’re as family as family can be. I honestly can’t fathom life without them, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t standing outside in my pajamas and a sweatshirt waving at them as they took off this morning… with tears. I may or may not have sniffled during most of my drive to work this morning. They’ve recommended I wait until the boxes are unpacked before I come visit. I gave my solemn (and teary) promise to do so. I nearly lost it at dinner on Wednesday when Jim made a comment about me being one of the granddaughters. Like I said, they’re precious. And I’m all sniffly all over again. This from someone who isn’t prone to crying! Aye-yi-yi.

Alright, I need to go before I get completely maudlin over this and start bawling all over everyone. Even with this bittersweet ending, my Easter was fabulous. I know people like to tell everyone that “Jesus is the Reason for the Season” around Christmas, but truthfully, I think it’s even more so at Easter. I hope your Easter was as filled with love as mine was, because there’s nothing better in life than being loved.

P.S. Today was Opening Day in baseball and my Dodgers beat the Gnats (their archenemy) 4-0 thanks to a shutout and solo homer from pitcher Clayton Kershaw. I found that out while I was still at work. But that didn’t stop me from coming home and watching the game on DVR. Go Blue! (I might be a big fan… just maybe!)

Circling Back

Alrighty… I’m sure you remember my rant about my flight home last month. When I wrote my letter of complaint (told you I would) to the president of Delta, I noted that in the time it took me to fly from Long Beach, California to Colorado Springs, Colorado, I could’ve driven the entire distance. Mind you, it’s a 17-hour drive! That would’ve been faster and less expensive, as it were. Well, I got a response back from the executive assistant to the president of Delta. No, I didn’t expect a response from the president, but I did expect a response from his assistant or a department specializing in executive complaints. Which I got. Mission accomplished.

I was very impressed, I’ll have you know. It wasn’t a form letter. And it was looong. I know it wasn’t a form letter because it continually referenced points from my letter. My letter (not an email!) in single-spaced, 10-point Garamond type that was 1.5 pages in length (it was almost a full three pages in 12-point type… I may have used some of my other skills to adjust the leading (the space between each line of text) and the width of each letter as well as the amount of space between each letter to shrink it down). I can be verbose–as well you know!–and I used said verbosity to both complain and compliment various members of their staff.

Ms. Executive Assistant (we do try to protect the innocent here… my letter has her name on it, but ya’ll don’t need it!) is forwarding the compliments for Miss Holly and Miss Sue to the appropriate managers so that it trickles down to these wonderful ladies; but she’s also forwarding the complaint against Miss. E75-Gate-Lady for having no empathy nor compassion for a traveler who had just been stranded in Salt Lake City when they were supposed to be arriving home to sleep in their own bed in Colorado Springs.

All in all, Delta was gracious in receiving my criticism and acknowledging that it was warranted. They were very apologetic for the undue stress and inconvenience placed on me. And they gave me a voucher that will cover a good portion of another trip home. Just make sure I choose flights that give me over an hour layover in Salt Lake City so I don’t get displaced. Again. I don’t mind waiting an hour or two… I do mind waiting twelve to fourteen hours in a hotel and burning an extra day of paid time off (PTO). Me no likey. At. All.

And since I generally like to travel somewhere at the time of my birthday, the voucher will be redeemed pretty quickly. But it’s supposed to be used, right? I’m hoping to fly home for another visit the weekend before my birthday because at the moment, I have the entire week prior to my birthday scheduled off as well as the Monday and Tuesday following. I haven’t decided yet if I will utilize all seven vacation days or give two of them back. I’m leaning toward the latter so I can skedaddle out of town for another long weekend a month or two later. I need to get out of Dodge regularly or I get a bit grouchy!

So, onto more pedestrian subjects… I played grown-up for a little while today. My errands were all of a grown-up nature–get your minds out of the gutter! That’s not what I meant and you know it!

I had to go get an application for a certified copy of my birth certificate notarized. When I got a new passport a few years ago, the United States Postal Service managed to rip my birth certificate in half after the Bureau of Consular Affairs (a division of the U.S. Department of State) had finished using it to prove I’m me and had sent it back to me. That’s right. It was ripped in half. I got a postcard to pick up some mail so I went to the post office. There was my poor birth certificate and its envelope ripped in half and stuffed in a plastic bag with a photocopied paper apologizing for the condition of my mail. Really?! Of all of the mail I get, they had to rip my certified birth certificate in half? They couldn’r rip my cell phone bill? Or the junk mail? Nope, didn’t make this story up. It’s 100% fact. Anyway, I’ve been meaning to request a new certified copy because it’s just one of those things you should have. But the request has to be notarized. <sigh> I finally got around to it today. For good measure, I requested two copies. One for “just in case”…

I also rented a safe deposit box… because I don’t have one and I have stuff that should be in one. Like the title to my car, the appraisals for my sparkles, my passport (when I’m not traveling), a copy of my insurance policy for my sparklies, the receipt with all of the specifications for my Stickley Audi rocking chair, a flash drive with photographs and scans of valuables and their receipts, and other such stuff. I felt very grown up doing this… granted, at age 36-soon-to-be-37, I am grown up!

I then went to the post office to mail off the request for my birth certificate, my ballot for the city election occurring in a few weeks, and a gift to a friend in California.

Then I went home and decided I was done playing grown-up for the day! Actually, I talked to my bestest friend Buffi for a while and she was giving me a bad time because I turn 37 next month. Of course, I pointed out she’s already 37 and has been since January so we both started laughing. I was telling her that I don’t feel 36 or 37. Nope, I don’t. I feel closer to 30, I guess. Of course, most people assume that’s closer to my true age… no make-up, a ponytail, and a youthful attitude will do that for you! I think it’s funny that people have always told me I’m mature for my age, not knowing I’m exactly as mature as my years would indicate–if they knew my years. And I don’t lie about my age. Ever. I own every single solitary hard fought day of every year. They’re all mine, for better or worse!

The other thing of import this week is that I called my old weight clinic so I can start going to meetings because I’m just not feeling motivated to watch my calories or go to the gym. Work is once again stress-filled and exhausting and that’s about all I can handle. So the accountability of showing up once a week at the clinic helps out a lot. And I like the staff so it’s very enjoyable. I won’t be going this next week because I already have a scheduling conflict in place, but I will start going the week after. I can quit pretty much any time I want so it’s more of an as-needed-basis kind of thing.

So there you go… we’ve come full circle with my Delta complaint and with my adventures in losing weight and then maintaining said weight loss. Now to enjoy the rest of my weekend!

See ya!

The Naughty List

Nope, I’m not on the naughty list… that would be Delta. But I digress… to answer your unasked question, yes, the travel woes continued yesterday morning. Don’t worry, I saw the humor in some of it!

First, after dinner Tuesday night, my evening was pretty quiet. For one, I couldn’t get the television to work. Growing up as I did, that’s quite impressive. I’ve never met a television I couldn’t conquer. Until now. I’m pretty sure they charge you to watch the news. I ended up reading instead, not that I didn’t enjoy that!

I awoke at 6:15 a.m. yesterday so I’d have plenty of time to get up, get dressed, and pack–again–before heading down to the lobby to check out of the hotel and bum a ride from their shuttle service. I got to the airport and shuffled my way through the various lines until I was able to sit at my gate and wait to board the plane bound for Denver. After everyone was on the plane, I found myself seated next to a guy who had his earbuds in and was listening to music on his iPhone. My thoughts were along the lines of, “More power to you, buddy!” I’ve done that on dozens of flights so I bear no ill will toward travelers who like to stay in their own little world. I pulled out my laptop carrier and unzipped it to get my iPad. Well… I attempted to unzip it. Fabric on the interior of the case had jammed in the zipper and try as I might, I couldn’t get it to budge. Forward or backward, it was all for naught. The guy next to me removed his earbuds to close down the iPhone before the flight attendants told him to and realized my case and I were involved in an arm wrestling match. He offered to help. To put this in perspective, he’s a separated Marine (for those who don’t speak military, it means he’s a former Marine who completed his service and wasn’t in long enough to be retired from the military). Even with the help of this big, burly ex-Marine, we couldn’t get the zipper to move more than two inches. We were cracking up! The gentleman across the aisle and one of the flight attendants tried to help, but it was useless.

Meanwhile, the pilot came over the PA system to announce we were going to be leaving late because a couple of passengers were running late because their connecting flights were arriving late. I just about had a conniption fit right there. Basically, it was okay for my flight to leave on time even though I was running late due to the tardiness of my connecting flight on Tuesday night, but on Wednesday morning the same airline deemed it okay to wait and leave twenty minutes late so others could catch their second flight. I was more than a little annoyed. I’m one of those black and white thinkers. I’m generally all in or all out. In other words, if you’re going to screw me over, you need to be consistent and screw over everyone else, too. Or, if you’re going to make an exception to wait fifteen to twenty minutes for one flight, you need to do so for all other flights with passengers in the same boat. Pick one and be consistent. At least I can respect that thought process. But being inconsistent in the carrying out of the policies and forcing me to burn a vacation day will earn Delta no love! And before you ask, yes, I’m writing a formal letter of complaint and sending it in.

Now, back to my ex-Marine airplane neighbor. We talked all the way to Denver and he’s the most interesting person I’ve sat next to on a plane since I don’t know when. He’s been to all seven continents and both poles (I realize Antarctica qualifies for both categories). We traded dozens of travels stories and recommended places in the United States. I also heard some stories about his career in the Marines. He was one of the final three Marines to leave Somalia. He was given all sorts of commendations and honors for this… including a trip to the White House to meet the President of the United States of America. Not bad. We were both history majors in college so we could nerd out with each other as we spoke of different places worth visiting.

I finally arrived in Colorado Springs yesterday afternoon around 1:00 p.m. I was exhausted. Since I was having dinner with my favorite octogenarians and my parents, a nap was out of the question. As such, I cuddled up under my covers and read before taking a shower and heading out the door. Dinner was a lot of fun and it was an early night to bed shortly thereafter.

I was tired today, but at least tomorrow is Friday. That means the next morning I can sleep as long as I please and get caught up. Thank goodness.

And though I complain, this type of nonsense won’t keep me down. Anyone who travels as much as I do is bound to encounter various misadventures along the way… I do think I may get more than my equitable share, though! And this one was not of my own doing!