The Countdown and a Kitty

Mmmm, yes, the final countdown. As of the end of work today, I now have four (4!) days of work until I move on to new employment. Mmmhhmmm..four more days until a normal Monday-Friday schedule. Four more days until health insurance. Four more days until I am restricted to only working 40 hours/week. Four more days until I can say buh-bye to customer service, cleaning, and unreasonable demands. Four more days until I can begin to piece my sanity back together.

And now, before I present the "Kitty" portion of this post, here is a list of things that are or have been keeping me sane throughout my crazy, chaotic 13 months of employment (in no particular order)
1. Golden Girls

Thanks for the laughs, ladies.

2.chocolate

Thanks for tickling my tired tastebuds.

3. Ma & Da...and my bootiful family

Thanks Ma & Da for the empathy and love, and thanks to ERR'BODY else for just be generally delightful and wonderful

4.My FWIENDS

This is just one of them...I am fortunate to have several quite wonderful and magical friends. So to all of them: THANKS for fun times, laughs, good talks, and distraction from the negative

5. My Joshua

To simply say thank you is not and will never be enough. But I think you know that. Shawty, you da best.

6. And last, but not least...KITTY!

Dearest kitty, thanks for the cuddles and for being a good kitty model and letting me take dozens upon dozens (if not hundreds upon hundreds...) of pictures of you and for being super cute.

The End.

Wait...no it's not:

FOUR DAYS!!!! Mmk...NOW it's The End.

A List

1. This list is about nothing in particular.
2. I've had shoe shopping on the brain.
3. Been thinking about checking out the spring dresses at Target.
4. Switching jobs and taking a bit of a paycut...so forget numbers 2 and 3.
5. Getting ready to go on my first vacation in over a year and a half...to FLORIDA!
6. Here is a picture of where I'm going:

That right there is a photo of Bonita Springs, where my boyfriend's parents have a vacation home. They offered to fly me to visit them (along with my boy, of course).
7. Yes, I know that makes me one lucky lady.
8. And no, I haven't yet decided what to do to show them my eternal gratitude.
9. An aside: The Golden Girls lived in Florida, you know.
10. That makes ME a Golden Girl:

See? There I am!
11. Let's end this on a prime number, shall we?

And now it's time for ice cream!

"Is that poop on your pants??"

Relationships are about compromise. Give a little...take a little. Josh, my boo, is just about the most giving-est guy out there. He constantly surprises me with fun out-of-the-blue gifts, treats me to meals out, and just generally makes me feel like one lucky lady. Well, with all that giving, comes the taking. And what this boy likes to take is the last bite of my ... *insert meal or snack here*.

Last bite of my eggs...
Constant bites of the meal I ordered while he only picks at his meal...
Sips of my wine...
Stealing the last bit of my eggs...
And the other nice, he tried swiping the last bite of my chocolate dipped shortbread cookie from The French Broad Chocolate Lounge.

I don't always catch his sneakery--I must cough or blink or be people-watching in the exact moment he decides to take my food. This time was no different. One second my last chocolatey shortbread morsel was there...and then it wasn't! I knew exactly who the culprit was. He played coy, pretended like he didn't know what I was talking about, but there was no way he couldo deny this. I gave him a hard time about it, but we eventually laughed about it and left the Chocolate Lounge.

Later on, back at my house, I noticed some brown marks on the back of Josh's khaki pants...right smack-dab on his ass. I pointed them out and told him he must have sat in something. He then walked somberly over to my bed where I sat and sat next to me. He said, "Well, Katie, there's something I need to tell you. Remember that chocolate cookie I took from your plate?"

"Of course I do...it was my cookie that I wanted to EAT!"

"Well," he said, "I didn't eat it. I ended up throwing it away when we left the chocolate lounge."

And then it alllll made sense. He took my cookie. I caught him red-handed before he had a chance to  eat it. As he held the chocolate cookie in his hand, it melted and he ended up wiping the melted chocolate from his hand on the back of his perfectly khaki pants.

HA! Karma'll get you! Those were the only pants he brought with him for the weekend and so he spent the rest of his time in Asheville walking around with what looked like smeared poo.

The End.

Leaks and flying squirrels and cute hair

Yesterday was just another Wednesday at the children's museum. Except for the fact that it was pouring buckets. It rained the ENTIRE day. I know this to be true because we done sprung a leak directly in front of the front desk. First there were 2 little drips, side by side. That problem was solved when I put a bucket under them. Then there was another...and another...and another! The leak from the skylight above the front desk spread along a beam, measuring in around 5 feet long by the time all was said and done. One bucket turned into 2, turned into 3 and then 4. And then, before we knew it: *plop* ... *plop*

Mmmhhhmmmm...another leak. Enter buckets 5 and 6. LOVELY.

But that's not the half of it.

There was also a flying squirrel. A grandpa and a grandma brought their grandson to play at the museum. Grandpa looked like he'd had his teeth bonded about a dozen times. This grandpa looked like Donald Sutherland...

and had the quintessential southern draw that sounds refined instead of honky tonk redneck. He approached the front desk where my co-worker and I stood and said, "I proooobably have broken a few ruuuules heeere at the muuuseeeeum." Thinking he was making a joke about the fact that he was such an old man playing at a children's museum, my co-worker and I simply laughed politely.

And then...and then he showed us why he was breaking the rules:
He had a pet baby flying squirrel in his pocket!

He starts rambling on about how this squirrel likes to hang out in his pocket and sometimes on his chest just under his shirt and then says, "And if ya like crittahs, you can hold herrrr." And then I realized he was talking to me. Stunned, I held out my hands and he placed the squirrel in my hands, where she stayed for about 4 secods before FLYING out of my hands and back to the Donald Sutherland look-a-like. He said she'd "bonded" with him...whatever that means.

AND THEN he put the suirrel on my left shoulder. She quickly scampered across to my other shoulder and then DOWN my sweater. Yeah. Down my sweater. Thankfully she didn't bite me or anything. Mostly, it just tickled. But that didn't mean I wanted that thing down my shirt. Finally after a few jittery seconds the squirrel migrated to my right armpit, at which point I held my arm out and sort of jiggled it a bit, encouraging her to exit the premises. All the while, Donald Sutherland look-a-like is explaining that his little pet sleeps during the day and is NOCTURNAL, which means she's awake at night (thanks for the explanation, Gramps). I finally jiggled her down my sweater sleeve and then frantically said, "HERE!" and shoved my arm in Donald Sutherland's face.

And thus ends my close relationship with the only flying squirrel I'll probably ever meet.

Thankfully I got to leave work early yesterday to get a haircut--my first haircut since July. Yeah...kind of overdue. It's cute, bouncy, short, and curly. I like it, but I'm kind of afraid it's a little too close to Shirley Temple.

Que sera sera!

The Time Has Come!

After 381 days, I can now say BUH-BYYYYYYE to the job that very nearly sucked my soul away. My job was, if you will, a dementor and every time I went to work I felt like I'd never be happy again. I got by with a little help from my friends (and parents and boyfriend and Golden Girls). However, in the process I became one of those people who stopped cleaning out their car, collecting such flotsam and jetsam as a million mugs and travel mugs, clothes, shoes, lip balm, a satchel of lavender, and other things that need not be mentioned. I stopped cleaning my room and stopped making my bed, which is NEVER a good sign for me. I also stopped reading (a former favorite pastime), hated putting any effort into making meals, and just generally felt BLEH.

But tomorrow I will sit in my boss's office and say that I've had a job opportunity arise that I cannot say no to. I have come full circle and will be returning to work (full time WITH benefits) to the after school/summer program for at risk high school youth. My heart soars. I will be back working at a nonprofit that I support and identify with. I will go back to working with colleagues and the same students I worked with over a year ago (and will get to know some new ones). I will only be required to work 40 hours per week. I will have regular weekends on Saturday and Sunday. I can go to the doctor and only need to pay a co-pay!

Life is beyond good.

Also, I just bought my very first camping sleeping bag. Thank you, REI-outlet.

And with the gushing of good news comes the resolve to get back to the Katie-approved life I had before The Job of Terror. This includes keeping a junk-free car, making an effort to organize my room and working to keep it orderly, taking time to invest in the hobbies I love, and challenging myself to dive into new projects instead of slinking off to bed, too tired to contemplate anything other than whether or not I want to fall asleep on my right side or left side.

Oh, don't think I'm on cloud 9, too high to face reality. With any job comes frustrations and bad days, but I'm so relieved to be going back to the frustration and challenges of working with these high school kids.

And now I'm going to make my bed so that I can get in soon, sleep, and then test myself on whether I'll make it in the morning!