injustice . . .

Chapter 1:

The 9TS and I were standing in the driveway last night chatting with our neighbors, (hi Nancy!) when Frank's cell rang . . . it was one very tearful kidlet. So I excused myself to see what was causing this sea of tears. Injustice. Katie has been volunteering for the American Cancer Society's Relay for Life chapter, almost as long as she has been on campus. This year she is chair. This year is also the year her old ACS liaison retired and XXX came on board. The first thing XXX did was suggest she fire her co-chair, whom he simply did not like. Katie refused to fire Mike since they had successfully worked together as a team and XXX not liking him was not grounds for dismissal. Frustrations started to build as XXX failed to provide the chapter with the materials and support they needed to successfully function. Finally, yesterday, XXX marches into Katie's place of business, plops his body in a chair across from her desk and asks her to step down from her volunteer position. Yep. Fires her. He has replaced her with a freshman who just so happens to be the daughter of a family friend. Yikes.

I know that she was bound to run into the XXX's of the world sooner or later. I had just really hoped it would be later. I was never sure why those pompous souls whose power hungry mentality exist in the first place but they do. They crop up in the work place like lava from a volcano, blustering, sputtering and spreading destruction. I've met my share.

So I offered two options: quit or accept the proffered reassignment. Being a firm believer in not burning bridges, I pushed for the latter, also suggesting she help the new girl during the transition and continue to do her level best. (The 9TS offered two broken kneecaps!)

Chapter 2: (Instant background: Katie was offered her on-campus job this summer because, in part, her now boss was her campus adviser for RFL last year and knew her capabilities.) Needless to say, when her boss heard the reason for Katie's tears, the ground rumbled. They have decided to fight the decision. Not sure where Katie gets her chutzpah but I am so proud of her.

P.S. Katie got an email from her replacement who, it turns out, neither requested the job nor wants it. She feels she is too shy, too new and too unprepared. I like this kid.

5 things I hate to admit . . .

"And now I'm supposed to tag two other people to do this and then they tag two people and so on and so on. So I'm tagging Mary and Jeanne!"

Gee thanks Michelle!!! Hummm, list five things I hate to admit about myself. Can't I just steal your list . . . it's pretty much all inclusive

1. Yep, I can hold a grudge longer than anyone. Not a nice trait but I am so good at it, I'd hate to give up something that took me 60 years to cultivate.

2. I am a sloth! (habitual disinclination to exertion; indolence; laziness) heck, I even fit the remainder of the definition: any of several slow-moving, arboreal, central Florida edentates, having a long, coarse, redish-brown coat often of a greenish cast caused by algae, moving along in a habitual upside-down position . . . . Well, except for the algae part. I am not so much into mold.

3. I'm a tad anachronistic. I belong in the late 60's. I was happy back then protesting the evils of the world, dancing barefoot in the woods . . . .

4. I am resistant to change. I like my world the way it is. I don't see the point in fixing something "if it ain't broke."

5. Did I mention SLOTH!

OK, here's the fun part, I get to tag two others to let it all hang out. Normally I would tag Kelli but she is down to the wire training for her three day/60 mile Breast Cancer walk in Dallas and, by the way, it is not to late to donate . . . . So, I am passing the flame onto Anke and Marg, who are both probably growling at me as they read. Ta ta.

clueless . . .

My darling daughter is a whiz kid. She just sort of thinks outside of the box . . . heck, she lives her life outside of the box. She is my quirky kidlet who rarely sees the forest because the trees are so darn fascinating. She walks to the beat of a different drummer. In high school, she was consumed with doing well . . . both academically and athletically . . . graduated with a 4.2 gpa, co-captain of the track team, second degree black belt . . . consumed to the point that her social life such as it was, really never got off the ground. No time for that particular forest.

But college is a different matter. Whereas before she wasn't quite in command of her quirkiness, she now embraces it. She is flying on her own and doing a damned good job. Still the over achiever, she is carrying 16 credit hours, works 15+ hours a week, chairs her college Relay for Life team and still finds time for her other passion: photography.

So whats missing from this equation? That forest known as boys; the male population. Yes she has male friends. Always has. She actually prefers them to mecurialness of women. I'm talking dates. Boyfriend/girlfriend. She is clueless. So clueless in fact that it continually gets her into trouble. Last week, she gets an email from the boy who does what she does at her school for his own school. Chairs Relay for Life and they both work in the same capacity on their respective campuses. She likes him. Packs up all her RFL stuff and heads over for their meeting. After a few moments of RFL, the conversation takes a totally different tact. Four hours later and he keeps wanting to know what she wants to do. She, confused, replies that she needs to go home and finish studying. He makes a few alternative suggests. She is more confused. She leaves.

She is still confused and rummages through her recall to try and understand what is what here. Finally, five days later, she rereads his email. "Hey you! Call me later. We should get together tonight." Hummm. No mention of RFL. The light bulb goes off. This was a date. A real date. And she had not known. So much for being in the whiz kid department of dating. Not.

And another story. Cute boy where she works. Says, "Let's go out." Clueless replies, "Oh, as friends?" Boy, "Well of course, cough, as friends, cough, absolutely, cough, of course I meant as friends." Finally, clueless' radar kicks in and she thinks possibly he was asking her out on a date, but not totally sure until her friends and her mother clue her in. Truthfully, she only likes him as a friend. All is good.

Now she was dating a nice guy last year. But again until he kissed her after the movies the first night, she hadn't realized it was truly a date. Sigh.

So how can a kid so bright, be missing a fairly essential gene? Usually, girls start to experiment in kindergarten, when Billy has something they want. Billy, doesn't know why he forks over the prize, but fork it over he does. Billy is sunk. Billy never had a chance. Katie, she just reasoned with him and Billy acquiesced. Not the same thing.

But she is starting to see the light. There is a glimmer on the horizon. She will catch on and live happily ever after. Like everything else in her world, she will, at some point in time, excel in this as well.

P.S. Lest you think I tell tales out of school, Katie had creative editing rights. She has this wonderful capacity to giggle at herself. Gotta love this kid.

and one for the road . . .

Credits: Paper: Michelle Coleman, Hullabaloo, Stamp: Scarlet Heels, Exquisite, Font: Chaos, Frame: PSE, Mask, Katie Pertiet.

Woke up at 5:00 this morning. Not a lot you can accomplish without waking the dead in this house. And the 9TS is not a happy camper until at least 9:00, so I played. Thus the layout of my favorite blue eyed cat.

Credits: Paper: Katie Pertiet, Blue Line Botanical, Stitching: Julia Makontinski, One Fine Day, Mask: Katie Pertiet, Messed Up Photo Block
Pin: Corina Neilsen, Font: CK Ali's_writing, You are loved, Tag: Designs by Vicki, Vinegar and Brown Paper

Surprisingly, the temperatures dropped last night. It's 56 this morning. By all rights, I should be making beef stew or some equally cold weather meal but instead, I just finished making a batch of bruschetta topping to go with dinner tonight . . . if it lasts that long. I am a chow hound when it comes to bruschetta . . . some toasted crusty bread, fresh tomato, basil, olive oil, garlic, a little locatelli cheese, some Balsamic vinegar . . . Frank doesn't have a chance. It won't make it past lunch.

ennui . . .

. . . a feeling of weariness and dissatisfaction : BOREDOM. I am in it's clutches . . . annoyed . . . dissatisfied . . . bored. I'm even irked it is pronounced on.we! Here I've been running around with en.ewe.ee bouncing off the walls of my brain. Yikes. So what does one do to entertain themselves in the midst of ennui, she asked in her very best fake french accent?

You play with this little gem Yearbook.com , that I picked up over at Pioneer Woman. And you can do this little vintage 1952 gem to your dear, dear hubby:

or update him into the 70's

and while fair is fair, put yourself in the 70's with him . . .

or go a little wild in the 80's . . .

or get rid of your long straight hippy hair altogether . . .

Either way, the results are worth a chuckle.

But if you still have ennui, you can go back to basics with paper and make a quick, down and dirty album of your adventures at Busch Gardens.

or decorate the cover of a plain 3 ring binder for all your Tips and Tricks instructions for PSE6, because without these handy dandy little cheat sheets, you wouldn't remember a darn thing you've learned over the past year.

Is my ennui gone? Nope but I had a good time putting it at bay for a bit. Now if I could just get through the piles of laundry and ironing . . . .

Oct Week 4 Jessica Sprague Challenge . . .

The challenge requirements for this week:

1. Use type as a design element.

2. Your layout may or may not contain additional journaling.

3. Make sure your layout has at least one photo in it.

Credits: Paper: Katie Pertiet, Fonts: CK Ali's_Writing, Yukon Gold, You Are Loved, Overlay: Kimi B.