Manly man

Went to the doctor yesterday. Turns out everything is A-OK with Rob. The doctor explained the science of man to me and I could tell he thought I was an over-reactionary nutjob. Which, may or may not be all that far off. The results from our earlier tests weren't that great(We were dealing with small percentages of possibility. They were there, just small), so my pessimism wasn't completely based on fictional results. Biased, maybe.
But yeterday's test proved that all is well that ends well and I am, in fact, wacko. So this is all great news! As we left Rob pinched me (an obvious sign that he is very happy... I'm just unsure if it was from the results or the fact that most of the people in the waiting room were over 80 & most likely there for E.D.).
Show off.

Flying South

I saw a V-formation in the sky yesterday as I drove to work. August 29th, really?

Jobby-job-job-job

Well, I was offered a position at a 'quasi-governmental' workplace. It was a privately owned establishment that was also a sort of non-profit. They were in the business of helping people get started with buying a home. They offered me benefits including 12 +/- holidays (many of which, they just throw in there. Ex: If a holiday happens to land on a Tuesday, they would typically give you Monday off, too). I'd have my own office (windows and a door). I'd be working on a mac (I'm on a PC at my current job). I'd get to sign up for 401k right away and they match right away... plus 1%... oh, and they had a 401a plan. They also had a gym (complete with showers) and a cafeteria. *sigh*, it still pains me to mention all these great perks with the follow-up, "but I didn't take it."
The position was for a "graphic designer" and I'd be under an art director. That's not the problem (actually, I'd love to work with another graphic designer and have a director... sort of). I wouldn't mind having a designer ahead of me (the aforementioned art director) but after NOT having one for 2+ years... I feel like career-wise... it would be a slight step backward.
Sometimes I think back to my dot-com days and how I fantasized about being a project leader. I still would... they are a bit of a "dime a dozen" these days, however, and companies expect a LOT more from project leaders than what they did just a few years back. Now they have masters degrees and much, much more. It used to be that this role was like that of a consultant - those who couldn't do it told you what to do. People expect more from them today. With my current skillset... I'd need to go back to school and have much more experience behind me.
So then I think about "art director". I think becoming an art director is a natural progression for any designer who wants to "move up" in his/her career. Sometimes I begin to think how "designer"... any way you slice it... is a grunt level job. I begin to think to myself, "just a graphic designer." It sounds like you aren't talented if you carry this title for over 10 years. (yes, yes - I'm sure there are many out there who would disgree with this mentality but this also isn't your blog). I've been out there for only 7 years (although it feels like 15 sometimes) but in the world of design (and computer design at that)... some get a little boxed in creatively or loose skills on the latest programs.
Sometimes I feel like I am going stale.
Sometimes I think back to people I have met, interviewed or worked with and I think, "God, I'm good."
Sometimes I get sick of thinking about planning my career-path and I go take a break.

Grocery Store Etiquette (and other things my neighbors need to know about shopping correctly)

The closest grocery store (the one in between my house and work - otherwise known as -the grocery store I can CONVENIENTLY stop off en route home from work) is Kroger on Lombardy. The area, formerly known as the area perfect for a late-night rendevous with a transvestite prostitute, has been revamped into a bustling late night grocery store slash Starbuck's slash Lowe's Home Improvement Store area. It is very nice to the nearly naked eye - its once you go INSIDE that you realize what an armpit this place is.
I have already called the #1-800 Kroger number and complained about this place and its "service". Bad attitudes of the "*sigh* I can't be bothered" type run rampent in here. Just picture girls in their late teens/early twenties snapping gum and looking up at the ceiling so all you see are the whites of their eyes. Their faces all frozen in the "I-Hate-This-Freaking-Job" glare. We all hate our jobs to some degree, but don't make me suffer while I buy 1 case of beer to celebrate that my work day is over. I can't help that your late shift just began or you are questioning why you can't call people on your cell phone while stocking shelves.
I had to stop here last week for some post-work dinner pick-up. I hate this place. I have tried my darndest to avoid it, but I keep slipping into the pattern of picking up last minute items which require me to stop here (yes, I can drive past my house 3 miles to go to the other Kroger but when you really want to get home - you really want to get home and somehow... this place always seems like the faster option... which, it never is).
Walk past the cop (always there) and just try and find a cart. Nope, they have all been taken by the guys who turn in aluminum for cash or they are outside slamming into my driver side door. Okay,... I'll take a hand basket. After I pick out the old banana peel, its off we go!
Find an apple with no teeth marks, grab some lettuce that isn't completely wilted and then wait in line for 12 minutes at the deli. Did I mention that there is NO ONE in front of me at the deli?
Its off to the meat dept. I just love how Kroger has discovered a completely disgusting way to package my ground beef - in a tube. Its really made me want to look into being a vegetarian...
Walk past the guy in a wife beater reading labels on the salad dressings (Kroger loves a wide variety of salad dressings. They also have a pretty outstanding Mexican and Asian foods section, which, is really its only highlight.) Find a block of cheese that didn't expire last month (I never had to read expiration dates on Kraft cheese before this place) and then attempt to find one box of eggs that doesn't have at least one cracked egg (or isn't stuck to the surrounding boxes of eggs from the aforementioned broken eggs).
Walking down the frozen food aisle I begin to slow down as a woman, who is almost as wide as the aisle itself pushing a fake NASCAR grocery cart stuffed with 3 kids, peruses the aisles while yelling at the kids, "I am serious. I will take you outside and beat your ass if you don't quit yer crying!" (You can tell that this threat has been said a million times since she is reading labels and the kids are still horseplaying. Its become almost conversational.)
"Excuse me..." I'm passed her!
I get to the frozen veggies where I cannot read the items behind the glass window cause some idiot woman has decided to HOLD THE DOOR OPEN while reading through what she wants. Do people NOT understand that the doors are made of GLASS for a reason?!. If we were meant to hold open the doors, block the aisles, frost up the windows for the next guy and to let all the cold out - they'd be doors of metal. Without fail, this completely irks me.
Up to the check-out. Ah yes, its 5:30PM and everyone is out post-work shopping... just like last time I came I here. Customers are backed up into the food aisles due to only 2 lanes being open at this rush-hour time. I choose to wait in the self-serve section where people are still learning for the first time how to ring up their items and other people waiting are shoving to get ahead.
I finally get a register and start checking myself out. I consider myself a master at this by now and I have begun to memorize short-hand codes to things (including how to punch in my VIP card which, I have since thrown away). I show the lady my ID when I ring up some beer and then ask for a pack of cigarretes (its a rough week, ok?). You would have thought I forced her into excerising against her will.
"*sigh*, " She non-chalantly (and by non-chalantly I mean SLOWLY MOSEYS) up to the main customer service desk where... and you'd think she'd be happy that I offered her the chance to lean against the counter to gab with her gal-pal up at the main counter for 5 minutes... she gets what I need. She then bounces on back to her spot and hands them over without even looking at me.
"Thank you!" I say borderline frantic that I have held up this line behind me (I'm embarrassed out of my mind).
No response. She looks straight ahead.
[Insert explative thought here] as I look at her... glaringly.
I finish my transaction and leave.

I really have no outstanding poignent way to end this post other than to say... I'll probably do it all again someday this week, too.

Rusty

"What did you do?" Justin asks running away for the first aid kit.

"Well, you know those rusty tree grates they have in the city? The ones where they remove the inner rings to allow more space for the trees to grow? Well, I stepped on one and... [grimmace] slipped down, slicing open the inside of my heel."

"You should get a tetanus shot."

I heard this from everyone, from the sales crew to the warehouse crew and even the IT guy. I found it all rather entertaining after awhile. All the times I scrap myself, or bump into things brusing myself, or the many times I drag myself out in public when I should have stayed at home in bed.... this tiny flesh wound got an awful lot of attention.

I called an urgent care facility. The nurse cuts me off, "You should come in and get a tetanus shot". I felt like a child with a panicked mother (which, if you haven't experienced in a long time, is kind of nice).

I left work an hour early (to beat the urgent care/ post-work rush hour) and was greeted by an extremely talkative nursing assistant who took down all my info (she recently got her socially degree with a minor in handwriting analysis. I am very spiritual and optimistic according to my signature). I was called right away to my own room.

4, yes, 4 people came in to see me. What am I a freak? Some kind of third-country victim who wasn't aware that there were cures for things like diarrhea at a doctor's office?

One nurse asks me if I am pregnant before beginning. "I highly doubt it."

I got a shot while an intern guy wraps my wound. He covers 2 oz. of neosporin with 5ft of gauze... I looked like a trauma patient. That bandage, although very lovely (just in case that intern ever reads this), ended up sliding off the cut by the time I got home... I was a mess.
Rob doctored me more when I got home last night.

Wow. So, what did I learn from all this? Fall on something rusty and be sure to tell somebody that you haven't had a tetanus shot since you were a wee baby.

As for me, I have to wait 10 years before getting this kind of attention again.

Okay, so I'm drunk....

You have no idea how long this took me to type considering my drunknenesss, but here we go... thank God for spellcheck....
So I had the girls night at my house tonight. 3 ladies, 4 bottles of wine.
It never ceases to amaze me how people undergo everyday problems much like that of my own. I must say that I love the all-ladies dinner nights for reasons beyond just cooking dinner Rob would never touch - hmmm mushoom filled pasta, hmmm.
All in all, a good night to be had.

And yet more embarrassing insight on our lives

Well, for those of you who want a baby update - read on. For the rest of you who are left running, screaming mad from this topic - start running.
Rob has since seen a doctor and, as a result, we both need to go see him mid-August. Rob made the next appointment which means I'll forget about it until the morning of... at which time he'll remind me, "Oh yeah, we have to go to the doctor's office today, remember?" Which reminds me, Rob, thanks for making the appointment at 8:15AM. Was this your way of catching me barely caffienated thus incapable of asking tons of questions? I know you love my overly active brain.
So, the doctor told Rob that it was not "impossible" to have kids, which, wasn't exactly the information I was trying to convey after talking to my doctor. With my sporatic cycles and Rob's, *ahem*, the odds of our two worlds colliding at just the right moment to create life - is very small. Rob's doctor only looked at him and then looked at some charts - he has no idea about my cycles so, yes, it would stand to reason that it looks like I overplayed my hand when on this whole infertility topic. But, I'm not sure I did. All in all, I hope Rob is right and I am wrong (first time for everything).
So - we go to his doctor soon ... he has to first go back before our couples appointment and 'perform' one more physical/lab testy thing. I suppose after that we will see what odds we are really dealing with here. In the meanwhile, that doctor told us to "try, try, try" cause again, its not "impossible." With that in mind, I actually made Rob purchase the ClearBlue Easy Ovulation Predicter Kit while shopping for dog food at Costco. Poor guy, I can't imagine me shopping for his nutsack meds while purchasing windex at Target (Rob doesn't have nutsack meds, but if he did, it would stand to reason that it would be similarly humiliating for me to buy them). And yet here he was, writing it down and strolling through the aisles with some blue box emblazoned with a creepy baby head on it. (The baby's head was so creepy that we covered it at home so it wouldn't look at us. It probably didn't help that Rob would put it in my face while screetching, "Have me! Have me!")
I was all amped to try this kit out (you get 10 sticks to pee on while you try to pinpoint your ONE day that you would most likely conceive)... but Rob has also managed to time his trip to Chicago right in the middle of when I think I should be testing. So, between our crappy odds and our playtime... I think we may be dog owners only for a looooong time.

K Fed Up

From a star-watch website:
"Kevin Federline tapes "Lose Control" in Vegas 07/30/06"

....I've got nothing to say about this.
Nope, nothing at all.

It counts

"Honey, I think that hair in your beard is grey..."

"No its not."

[closer inspection] "Yes! Its white! It is!"

"What? Where? I don't have any grey hair... its probably blonde."

[excited finger jabbing] "Right... there! See it? Its white! Aha! Its white."

"Oh, yeah. *Hmph* Look at that. Oh well, it will be gone when I shave."

"It counts!"

"No it doesn't."

"Yes - it DOES!"

"You'd count it if I had an ass hair that was white."

Yes. Yes, I would.

Top ten signs I need a life

10. I actually took the time to create the top ten reasons why I need a life
9. I recognize new freckles on my body and consider each one a family member.
8. I giggle when I see the exit sign for the "CANAL WALK". What if the 'C' fell off?
7. I'm frustrated that I can't reach the top of my back where my sunburn is peeling. And its peeling in perfect sheets. I actually enjoy this activity that I have been denied due to its location...
6. There's nothing better than the sensation just after popping a zit. I mean, c'mon - its gross, yes, but you all know there's some sort of relief/thrill/triumph that comes along with these things... I'm not sure if I need a life cause I admit this or cause I wrote about it on my blog.
5. I line things up in a make-shift descending order that only really makes sense to me. When I get bills, I immediately open them and line them up (overlapping with 1" exposed of the document just below) according to due date. I do the same at work only there are multiple piles for things that are immediate needs, ongoing projects, things I will simply never get around to doing but need to have out in case someone asks what the status is...
4. I wash the bottom of my feet every night before going to bed (summertime activity only).
3. I take the time to call and ask Citibank why I was charged $1 for a $5.56 charge. The entire bill for my Visa was $6.56. I got the charge removed and sent out a check for $5.56 last night. I'm not sure if I need a life for charging that amount or pursuing the removal of the $1.00 charge.
2. I spent a good 10 minutes pulling out all the pickle & olive jars from the fridge last night... to drain the extra juice. Three pickles floating in brine erks me.
1. I maintain a blog

I like your tattoo

So after running around last night trying to exchange my kitchen faucet (see aforementioned posting called "Pegasus") for one that works, looks good, and doesn't cost me a red cent more than the old one.... I stop by a gas station on the way home.

While in line paying, I hear the guy behind me say, "I like your tattoo."
I could tell he was directing the comment at me.
I turn around and check my back (is my shirt tail sticking out?) and then look down at my foot. I have a nautical star for all to see when I wear flip flops (or dress shoes, right mom?). I look up to meet the guy who commented - and this guy is smiley. I mean extra smiley. Questionably smiley. Like the kid from Christmas Story who tells Ralphie, "I like the wizard of Oz."
"Oh! Thanks!"
"Yeah, its real subtle. You don't see a lot of that these days. There's something to be said for subtlty...."
At this point I look the guy up, down and back up again. What is he talking about? This is such a wierd topic to gas on like this and all the while... smiley as hell. Is this sarcasm or is he just an idiot?
I decided not to find out and raced to get in my car and out of the lot before he finished his transaction.
"I like the tinman..."