June 30, 2008 | Filed under: Because They Pay Me, Thinky

I started my first job in DC six years ago, on the tenth of June. (I meant to write this to commemorate the actual anniversary, but like so many brilliant blog ideas I’ve had this year, time got away from me.) I had a good job, it was in the field I wanted, there was a lot to learn and my colleagues were willing to teach me. Work also provided a hefty part of my social life, for which I am still grateful. It was exactly what I wanted.

* * * * *

I’d had visions of my big city life since I was a kid. My job, oh, that was usually the focus of these daydreams. The frantic pace, the expense account lunches, the schmoozing at cocktail parties, the conversations about how we’d be a hell of a lot more successful if certain people were capable of removing their heads from their asses for just five minutes. (Yes, even my daydreams contain foul language.)

My last place of employment had none of that, which is probably a good thing.

* * * * *

I wear a suit every day, except for the days on which I don’t anticipate any outside meetings and then I wear an outfit over which I can toss the jacket that lives at the office specifically for that purpose. You know you’re dedicated to your job when you work six days in a row, one of which is a Sunday and another of which is a federal holiday, all of those days decked out in a suit and heels. It was three months before I wore jeans to work on a Friday, and only then could I get away with it because it was Good Friday and half the city wasn’t at work anyway. I blow dry my hair and do full makeup almost every day, again only slacking on the days I’m not in a suit. I shave far more than once a fortnight now, to accommodate all the pantyhose-wearing. The personal upkeep alone is a part-time job.

* * * * *

“How’s the job going?” a friend inquired.

“Have you ever been thrown into a murky pool filled with piranhas that immediately get to work eating you alive?” I replied. “It’s kind of like that.”

I had a rough couple of weeks there, time that conveniently coincided with my parents’ visit, which I’m sure just made me a barrel of monkeys to be around. I don’t know – maybe they liked being snapped at and told I don’t have time for things and work sucked, could we please not talk about it, what did you do today? Probably the icing on the cake was when I left them at the table to order my dinner for me while I went to the restroom and sobbed. If they noticed that I came back to the table without any mascara on, they didn’t mention it.

* * * * *

I knew this job would be a challenge. I picked it because there were new things to learn and good opportunities to develop skills in areas in which I know I’m weak.

I grossly under-estimated the extent of the challenge. Every day is a busy day. Few days go as planned, even when I don’t make a plan until 10 AM. I try in vain to enforce my rule of going home on time two nights a week. Officially we end at 5:30 but anything before 6:30 counts as “on time” in my book; 8:30 is not unheard of. And those weaknesses? Boy do they come to the fore in some pretty ugly ways. Well, awareness is the first step, right?

* * * * *

“Who are the piranhas?” my friend asked, “And why aren’t you biting back?”

I didn’t bite back, but I did manage to pull myself out of the water last week and score a couple of wins. That’s enough to keep me afloat for a while.

June 10, 2008 | Filed under: Is She Still Talking?

Clearly I was using the Mexican version of “tomorrow” there.  En Meh-he-co, everything happens “manaña,” which we silly Americans think actually means “tomorrow,” in a literal sense, but in fact it really means “eh, when I get around to it, possibly never.”  Not unlike when a guy says he’ll talk to you tomorrow.

At any rate, having consumed my body weight in crushed and fermented grapes, I returned to DC where I managed to avoid being at an airport for a whole four days.  By that time, I was getting a bit twitchy so I jetted off to my cousin’s wedding on Kiawah Island.  (Actually, “jetted” probably isn’t an accurate term for the fourteen-row, 2-seats-on-each-side plane I took.  Puddle-jumped?  I don’t know, I’ve been on true puddle-jumpers and this wasn’t it.)

While there, I made friends with Al…

…hung out with the fam…

…and spent some quality time at the beach.

Now, I know what you’re thinking, and YES, in order to catch the sunrise on the beach, you do have to set your alarm and get up BEFORE the crack of dawn. That’s how I could justify sleeping on the plane on the way home. Also, all those people up there? Not even the whole slew of cousins on that side of the family. But can’t you just see the resemblance?

Since returning home, I’ve done some really fascinating things like “get caught up at work” and “watch my previously sunburned legs peel” and “do laundry/scrub the bathtub/buy groceries because my parents arrive in a few days and I need to make it look like I’m a real grown-up.” I’m just glad I don’t have to pick them up from the airport. I’m taking a break from that place…at least until July.

June 3, 2008 | Filed under: Is She Still Talking?

A reasonable question, truly. Perhaps you recall that I went to California, where Tracy and I had some big wine-drinking plans?

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.

Yes, the wine is pink and yes, I am trying desperately not to laugh. At this rate, I’ll never be America’s Next Top Model!

Ahh, there’s nothing like sparkling wine to start the day off right. I impressed Tracy with my painstaking tasting notes: “Meh,” I wrote next to one selection.

And here we are at, um, I don’t remember where. It’s, uh, in Napa. And they sell wine there. Pretty sure it’s on the east side of Highway 29.

Provenance, one of my favorites. I have a credit card receipt and a photo from there, but the experience itself is a wee bit hazy. Good thing I already know what their wines taste like.

Out of time for today, but more pictures fascinating explanations tomorrow!