I really need to determine what I want to be when I grow up. Doctor, Lawyer, Indian Chief? Okay, not Indian Chief. I don't think I'm racist enough. But I think it would cool to be wildly passionate about my work again. I suspect that this is the price I have to pay for not being consumed by work.
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My Hot Daughter is a Junior this year, and she's taking eighteen hours at college and working 25-30 hours a week, as well. At first I was concerned that she was doing too much, but then it occurred to me - what the hell was I doing when I was twenty? 1-1-1 & 32 or 2-2-2 & 80,* that's what. She'll be just fine.
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I spoke to my Smart Sailor last week. He's now at Keesler Air Force Base in Mississippi, attending Calibration School. I guess someone there implied that winters in Mississippi were "cold." After wintering at NTC Great Lakes outside of Chicago last year, I'm afraid he laughed in their face.
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I have no jam on hand (other than the family stash). None. I've just had other fish to fry on the weekends for the month of September, plus I've been giving it away on a pretty regular basis. I expect I'll try and put up a batch my Awesome, Awesome Apple Butter sometime mid-month. So expect a Free Shit Friday offering with Apple Butter coming soonish.
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I got re-botoxed last week, as my scowl lines had returned after 7-8 weeks. The RN who injects me tells me it should last longer this time, as my facial muscles will eventually give up in despair. Botox: it's like the Pit of Despair for wrinkles!
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I went shopping on Saturday (because evidently my credit card didn't take enough of a beating while I was in San Diego). DUDES - I found the most AWESOME WORK PANTS at Eddie Bauer. These make me happy, happy, happy, even though I paid more per item than I typically do. The reason I got new pants: I died a little inside every time I put on
the old pants because they fit poorly, were not flattering and the legs were too wide (you couldn't see my fabulous shoes). Sometimes paying $75.00 for a single pair of pants that
actually fits instead of $30.00 for a pair that makes you cry is totally
worth it. Bonus: Found awesome shirts at JCP in the Petite section. I never thought of myself as "petite," but Sister from Another Mister The Mechanicky Gal convinced me to give it a go, and it totally worked.
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*If you don't know what that means, then congratulations - you've never been on a shore-based watch bill at a Naval Communications Station. Trust me, that schedule is not for the faint of heart. Or the insomniac. Or anyone over 25. Or anyone interested in maintaining some semblance of mental or physical health. You get the idea.
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11 comments:
Deee-LIGHTED with your scores! I was amazed at the petite thing - who would have guessed that a 6' tall woman could get a good fit in the PETITES section? But there you go, the clothing industries weirdness HAD to work for us sometime, amirite?
I really need to determine what I want to be when I grow up.
People do that? I mean, grow up, and settle on something, and know what it is beforehand?
I'm being a bit disingenuous, because at one point I knew, absolutely, what I wanted to be when I grew up. That's how you get a PhD at 27. And I don't regret it at all, but there are other things too.
I think I lost a job offer because during the interview I didn't spout the, "this is the only thing I can imagine doing" crap. I can imagine doing lots of things. That was the one I chose. If the interviewers don't understand the difference, oh well.
:: starts rigging Janiece's random generator to win ALL upcoming jams ::
The only time of year I like jam (with bread and butter of course) is the cold seasons. Weird I know but somehow it makes sense, with tea.
When I was in grad school, I discovered very quickly that I couldn't do the hours I did when I was an undergrad (about 4-5 hours of sleep, with the occasional all-nighter thrown in). I tried to do an all-nighter before a deadline and then go to a calculus class at 8 the next morning. After about half an hour of trying to understand what the hell the teacher was talking about, I decided to just write it down and understand it later. But when I looked at what I was writing, it was gibberish. I left at the intermission with the excuse I wasn't feeling well. Sleep deprivation is definitely for the young.
Glad to hear the SmartSailor is as forthcoming in his derision as his mother is. ;)
enorning = my greeting to others after an all-nighter.
Man is born with only so many all nighters in him, once they are gone, they are gone.
Art Grand
Broadway Lighting Designer
Ah, Kessler. I have fond memories of there, which was before all the boat casinos in the Gulf. Part of the fondness is how close New Orleans is, and the fact that New Orleans never closes. Ever. I spent muchas muchas time in New Orleans.
Uh, that should be Keesler, the AFB, not Kessler, the cheap whiskey.
Janiece, meander through life and you'll see more on the way. It's not the title or term that matters anyway. Hope the Smart Kids are doing well. Remember that some lines on the face denote thought and intelligence.
Vince, the transposition is understandable. One can find all kinds of Kessler at Keesler, or for that matter, in New Orleans.
Hoping your son is enjoying his time at Keesler. I live about 45 mins away. The Northern Gulf Coast a great part of the world. Remind him that we are some of the nicest people you'll meet and generally like Yankees (and a Yankee is basically anyone not from the Deep South) as long as they don't act superior. Then we aren't so nice.
Welcome, William.
I'm five foot nine. I bought petite 12s, unhemmed slacks from Lands End and had them hemmed locally (LE couldn't hem them so long)
They fit PERFECTLY! (I'm short waisted) and I can't be happier.
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