It just goes to show

My yesterday was crap-tacular. I mean. It really stunk it up. It was the kind of day that made you quote Office Space and say, "Somebody's got a case of the Mondays." And that somebody was me.
At first I thought it was because I'm working the early shift and just wasn't at the top of my game.
But the crappiness of the day continued into the night. The topper on the crappy cake was when I sucked up my necklace in the vacuum at the car washing place by the gym.
It's this beautiful opal and diamond necklace my parents bought me for Christmas, and I love it.
It was in the cup holder because it had gotten caught up in my iPod in my gym bag. And before I knew it -- whoosh it was gone.
I tried not to overreact.
I left a note on the back of my business card. And low and behold, this morning this jovial sounding man called to verify which vacuum I used. He called back a few minutes later and said he had it for me.
It just goes to show. Mondays = bad. Tuesdays = good.
(Even though work isn't too much better today.)

Where there's smoke...

I was really proud of myself when I quit smoking something like 15 years ago.

I'm not a quitter... in the sense that I seem to willingly latch onto unhealthy habits -- drinking too much, eating too much, gossiping too much, spending too much.

But smoking I dropped like a bad habit, hehehehehe. Get it? Bad habit?!

But at this particular moment. This one right here. At 2:51 p.m. on a Tuesday afternoon, I wish I could smoke without consequence.
I'm not feeling especially well. I'm bored. Sleepy. And don't like the stories I'm working on. This would be a perfect time to go outside and take a breather (a breather involving unhealthy air, I guess).
So I type all this knowing that I really don't want to smoke. But I wish it was acceptable to take a non-smoking break. A time when us non-smokers can walk outside and chat for 5 or 10 minutes just to break up the monotony... kind of like the old days at the LTN. When we took super long coffee breaks or brief walks around the block. Those were the days. Kind of.

Not a good swirly

One of the reporters at my work is writing a story about a bullying incident.
This high school freshman was tied up, dragged into a bathroom stall and left there for a short period of time. There are all sorts of rumors of some really bad stuff happening to the kid while he was bound by hoodies, but the family denies those accounts.
Needless to say, many conversations have popped up in the news room about this incident and bullying in general.
A photographer asked if the kid got swirlied. A reporter says, "A what?"
Apparently a swirly is when the bully and/or bullies puts the kid's head in the toilet and flushes it. The photographer went on to give hand motions to show how the technique is performed and added in that a handicapped bathroom is better because of space issues.
Bullying completely and totally pisses me off.
I was never physically assaulted or even threatened as a kid, but I got my fair share of teasing and it was terrible and humiliating. But I can't imagine the fear of having my eyes covered, mouth gagged and hands bound behind my back by bullies. How terrifying!
And some of the online commenters on the newspaper website have had the nerve to defend the two dorks who did it saying they were just having fun.
If these two guys find this activity fun, I'm afraid of what they do to have a blast.
I'm glad that some girls told teachers and the boys got suspended. I'm glad that they got arrested. They need a harsh dose of reality. And the online commenters supporting the out-of-line juveniles need to realize that this type of behavior can lead to more heinous crimes in the future.
So there!

Weight and wine

I love wine.
I've given up beer and try not to drink the hard stuff too often. But wine. Oh wine. How I adore thee.

Despite my love affair with wine, I'm losing weight. This is not a fluke. Of course, I had surgery... but let me say. Surgery doesn't do it all. Surgery helps, yes. But I reached a plateau more than 20 lbs ago. And it's still possible to over eat, take in too many calories and sit on my butt. This behavior will have the same result that it always has... weight gain and possibly some self loathing.
I got on the scale this morning and was thrilled. 74 lbs.
Did you get that? I SAID 74 LBS!
I'm in disbelief. Today is my six month anniversary of my surgery. I have no regrets except possibly that I didn't do it sooner.
I want to keep on this trek. So many milestones are in sight, and I even bought a new (new to me) dress that I want to wear to Sarah's wedding. It doesn't fit yet... but it will. oh yes, it will.

Jungle Love

Music helps me write.
Just about every time I start a new story at work, I put on my headphones and enter the sound-proof chamber.
I learned back at the LTN how valuable music and a set of headphones can be. I worked right next to an old hippie reporter guy who loved the sound of his own voice. I, on the other hand, hated the sound of his raspy smoker's voice.
I embraced the practice of listening to CDs on my computer with headphones so that I could block him out and concentrate on the task at hand.
That routine has been quite handy working in a larger news room with even more conversations going on that I can't help but listen to.
Over the years I discovered the wonders of Pandora and Yahoo! Music for my listening pleasure.
Most days when I put on my headphones I'm getting down to business. I typically listen to a few of the same channels: Adult Alternative, Pop, Country, Coffeehouse.
But yesterday I made a radical decision. I've been a grumpy pants all week at work so I decided to change things up in an effort to hoist me out of my rut.

I put on the 80s. And it worked! I wrote lots of stories and pepped right up.
Now, I can get burned out on the 80s but it seems this week called for those old tunes (the ones that remind me of school, my old Ford and friends whose faces I haven't seen in decades). So I went with it and put the car stereo on the 80s station on my way to work this morning.
It was fabulous! I relived my teen years riding down the highway in my Kia.
Tears for Fears
Billy Idol
Kim Carnes
Pat Benetar
It was a great drive to work - all except for the 18-wheeler that scared the crap out of me as I tried to merge onto the interstate. But some Jungle Love helped me shake off that experience pretty quickly.

Bathroom inspector

My mom teased me for years about my bathroom inspections.
In fact, if I brought it up today, I'm sure she'd chuckle.
Ever since I was a little girl old enough to go to the bathroom on my own, I felt it necessary to come out and report on the conditions. Was it clean? Did it have good-smelling soap? Was it crowded? Was there a sitting room?
I was reminded of my former bathroom reports today when I went to the work bathroom. Our facilities in the newsroom are pretty good. There are four stalls. Someone comes in and cleans them... mmm... I think every day.
All was well until there was a water heater issue. There was leaking and a loss of hot water. Suddenly a sign was stuck on the bathroom door and work guys started walking in and out of the newsroom and the bathroom for days.
Every once in a while the restroom would open back up for business but there was still no hot water.
I finally had to resort to taking the long walk to the bathrooms by advertising. These trips resulted in a few conclusions.

There are a lot of women over there. You never get a moment alone in there!
The floors are dirty. There are often pieces of toilet paper strewn about, and I think it's smaller over there.
I did not enjoy the week of displacement. Not one bit.
Thankfully, things are back in order this week. There is hot water, clean floors and solitude :).
These things may not seem important until they're not there.
Oh, I also realized that I'm still a bathroom reporter. Not only because of my desire to post this entry, but because of a stop me and the husband made last week on our way home from Raleigh.
We stopped at a mall and we both had to go.
I went into this tiny bathroom with one stall. It was FREEZING! There was no lighting over the toilet. The water was cold. I couldn't conduct business in such shabby conditions so I left.
As I was telling The Mister about my experience, he chimed in that his was the same.
I then realized that he didn't think it was worth mentioning. But me? The original bathroom reporter? I was on duty and ready to inform.

Lovable Lincolnton

When the Downtown Development Association decided on the slogan Lovable Lincolnton, I thought it was pretty cheesy. Let's call a spade a spade. It is cheesy. But I was feeling the lovableness of Lincolnton Sunday (and thought Valentine's Day would be a good time to throw it out there).
This isn't the greatest story ever told, but I'm going to tell it.
I met up with one of my two favorite redheads for coffee. A not-so-lovable element of Lincoln living is that lots of businesses are closed on Sundays, including two different coffee shops that we attempted to visit. So, McDonald's it was.
I haven't darkened the door of a McDonald's in quite some time. And I didn't eat there so don't look at me like that. I got an ice coffee with skim milk and sugar-free flavoring, thank you very much. It was yummy. But that's not my point. I'm getting there. You know how I tell stories.
I'm in line waiting for the right time to settle into a booth and do some catching up when I hear, "Mommy!" I look and my daughter is in the restaurant with a couple of friends and a mom. We start talking about how funny it was that we ran into each other. Then I look at a neighboring table and there's my father! Neither my daughter nor my father noticed the other was there.
We did lots of laughing and greeting, then I got to sit down to visit with my gal pal. I look past her and see one of my daughter's friends going through the drive-thru. He's got a big grin and is waving at me.
A little later my daughter's boyfriend and his father jog past.
There are times I crave and relish in anonymity. There are other times I bask in the smallness of my little town and getting smiles and friendly waves every which way while merely going out for a cup of coffee.