The Way Things Are



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Fun, meaty, worky stuff.
2006-07-21, 3:56 p.m.

Poppets, it’s going to be a challenge to keep going here, but I am BOUND and DETERMINED that I will keep it going. I will. Work is heating up with lots of stuff to do – fun stuff, meaty stuff, the kind of fun, meaty, worky stuff that I like, plus we have a new person to replace the traitorous Peaches starting Monday, plus I’m going to be gone for a week the first week in August, INCLUDING MY BIRTHDAY, to do my last training thing for the big-ass certification that I’m going for.

So.

This morning was LG’s last day of golf camp, and as they always do, the kids broke up into foursomes and played as many holes as they could in 2 hours. Our group of kids managed to get in 7 holes, and that’s pretty good. They owe it all to my sweet DishWasher, because he led LG’s group and kept the golf action moving along at a steady clip.

For logistical reasons too tedious to go into, I drove LG to camp, and DW joined us a bit later, just in time for the playing. Always drive two cars when one will suffice. But anyway, on our way in, I had a thought bubble in the car that might have looked a little like this: “Shit. I started my period last night, but did not gird my loins properly this morning.”

So I told LG, “I’m going to need to stop at Walgreens or a convenience store.”

“What for?”

“Girlie stuff that you probably don’t want to hear about.” (I wish I had thought to tell him that I needed to gird my loins. I see myself beating that turn of phrase into a bloody pulp, no pun intended, over the next few days.)

“You’re probably right. Can I wait in the car and listen to 'Harry'?”

Did I raise a cool boy-kid, or what? I have raised him to be very tolerant of women, not to ask too many questions, and WHEN not to ask questions. He’ll make some lucky girl a fine boyfriend some day.


Here he is putting.

****

Remember how my biggest fear in the entire world is when our well water runs dry and we have no water at the house? Well, Wednesday morning, as I was finishing up my shower, I noticed a marked drop in water pressure. I made this face:

and went about my business of getting out of the shower, leaving it on for DW, who was just getting in. As he got in, the water slowed to a trickle, and I’ll tell you people this: 14,000 little inner children deep inside me flipped the fuck right out. On the outside, though, I was cool and calm.

You see, I already had my plans in place for When We Run Out of Water. 1. Have well service check all electrical components (pump, pressure tank, flux capacitor); 2. Move in with in-laws; 3. Find somebody with a big-ass water truck, and have 4000 gallons of water trucked out and delivered to the water storage tank that I insisted we get back in service (thank you! thank you!; 4. Move back into house, living very frugally off the water in the tank; 5. Have well service dig a newer, better, deeper well; 6. Encourage LG to go to community college, due to aforementioned well-digging.

What really helped my mental state was the fact that we never ran completely out of water in the pipes, you know, when the water is shut off or the main breaks (for all you city dwellers), and the pipes make that clanging noise? We didn’t get that; we just had a slow trickle of water that wasn’t much use, but you could rinse your hands after using the toilet, although flushing was a dicey proposition.

As it turns out, our solution ended after step #1 of my Plans for When We Run Out of Water. There were some points (whatever the fuck points are) burned out somewhere within the bowels of the pressure tank. No pressure tank, no water pressure. And I think we all learned something here today: having the big-ass storage tank up the hill really doesn’t give us any discernable water pressure, as I had hoped it would, but it does give us a place to store some trucked-in water in case all hell breaks loose.

ENOUGH ABOUT WATER PRESSURE

Let’s go back to the traitorous Peaches, shall we? She has been here a little over 7 years, and gave notice a week ago. It didn’t surprise me completely, because she’s going to grad school full-time to get her master’s in blaming the man nodding and murmuring social work, and on top of the full-time classes, she does practicums (cums. hee.) and internships, and on top of all that, she has a 5-year-old daughter. And a husband. And a house and a car, but those really don’t have anything to do with what I’m talking about. And sparkly silver flip-flops that she sometimes wears on Fridays, but again, not relevant.

We had interviewed people a couple of months ago for our summer programs, and she had found a lady whom she really liked, and even said “Diane would be good in this office right here in case I ever get hit by a bus”, but alas, Diane wanted a full-time job, and as much as she LOVED us and wanted to work for us in our paltry little part-time position, she NEEDED full-time money.

I kind of forgot about Diane, and ran an ad, and got lots and lots of resumes, and had Peaches start sorting through them (is it painful? to pick out your own replacement?) and as we talked, I had a thought bubble that might have looked something like this: “Hey! Diane! Who reminds me of my friend Dee in our small town because they have the same last name. I want a chocolate milkshake from the Sonics.”

So I called Diane, and she was floored (I heard her hit the floor) and said she was definitely interested, and when could she come in, and let her go in the house and put away the groceries and she’d call right back.

And long story short, because this is the hiring story that never ends, apparently, she said she was getting ready to start a new job at a big-ass company in one of the surrounding small towns, with a good salary and benefits and commissions, and her sister was the head of HR and had hired her, and everything was wonderful except the job itself, and she would rather work for us, because this place does the kind of work that’s in her heart.

And just to end the long story, the reason she reminds me of my friend in our small town is because SHE’S THE SISTER OF MY FRIEND IN OUR SMALL TOWN AND I SWOOPED IN AND STOLE HER! I STOLE DIANE AWAY FROM HER SISTER DEE WHO HAD ALREADY HIRED HER! I’M A SISTER STEALER!

I never knew. I had a whole little fantastical thing worked up in my mind, like “wouldn’t it be funny if they were sisters, even though I know they are both married, and Dee has been divorced, and so therefore it would be really no chance that they would still have the same last name as each other? Wouldn’t it be cool if the world really were this small?”

Turns out it is. After Diane and I did the official “I want this job” and “you are hired” and shook hands, and then I giggled and punched her on the arm, and then we hugged because shit, man, we’re practically family, she said “I’m going to call my sister now.” I cringed and said “I’m going to see your sister socially on Saturday, and she’s going to be PISSED.”

“No, she’ll be happy for me. Sure, she’ll be pissed at YOU, but she’ll be happy for ME. We need to find her a boyfriend.”

“OK, but don’t let her date Don. He’s terrified of women, and he’ll just confuse her, and she’ll be calling me asking for help figuring him out, and I’ll have to break the news to her that he’s really 12 years old and scared of girls. Or gay.”

“OK.”

To get back to Peaches one last time, she’s a little mopey. I think she wasn’t expecting to be so quickly replaced with somebody I really like and have a small-town connection to. I’m not rubbing her nose in it, and I don't really feel like I'm replacing HER - I'm replacing her POSITION; it was her idea in the first place, lo these 2 months ago. I just don’t think Peaches expected me to get comfy with her departure within one week, and I think it’s troubling her a bit.

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