the story behind those job interviews

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A friend of mine went for “the interview” last week and in recounting it to me he commented that the room was so small he felt like he was sitting under an interrogation room light. I laughed and told him my last interview was in a room the size of a coat closet with a Barbie sized table separating me from the interviewers.  Our knees could touch awkwardly if we didn’t choose our seating wisely.  Continue reading

collecting Peggy-Sues?

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Social media is such an intricate part of our lives that it’s hard to remember what we did with all the time we now spend checking status updates and posting whatever the flavour of the day is.

I maintain a presence on the professional network with groups and connections tied to the various aspects my professional life over the years and I was invited to connect  with someone in the motivational speaking world.  His profile was sparse, but looked ok; he had a picture of himself on a sailboat.  We had no connections in common, but being anxious to expand the speaking aspect, I said ok. Immediately he responded by saying “I like your picture. Send more. Send lots.” (Insert heavy breathing here) Ah……. delete that connection immediately.

My social network presence is relatively small and private and I like it that way. Still, I get friend requests like I got from a guy I’d never heard of.  No friends in common.  I looked at his profile and the one post which was a picture of a nice looking guy.  I looked at his friend list to see if we had anyone in common; as in how did he find me?

Mystery solved.  Why, he was simply building up his list of Sues to go with his Margarets and Peggys.  I guess he was now into Peggy Sues.

I declined. It wasn’t quite as creepy as the one I got from a guy collecting Susans.  Yeah he had a long list of Susans.  So weird…………

 

 

 

 

 

 

on being “the complete” woman; are you listening, Melania?

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How are we to measure “the complete” woman-ness of ourselves?  I ask because over the years the ideals and metrics by which we measure ourselves have risen and in some standards lowered much like our ever-changing hemlines. I ask because over the years the role models and those we emulate change as well. And that can be a good thing.

And talking about role models……..Melania, Continue reading

overheard in the toilet seat aisle

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Searching out a new laundry basket, I was in close proximity to the toilet seat aisle. Like all those housey-type things are bunched together for convenience  in our shopping. It can’t be for the impulse  factor like end-of-aisle placement with these items that are less than dreamy.

I hear snickering and laughing and “toilet seat man? ya gotta be kidding” and I thought to myself we’re all just a little bit goofy about toilets and such no matter how  sophisticated we pretend to be.

Why, I feel like I’ve truly arrived in a new workplace when I discover the pooping bathroom.  You all know what I mean; the secluded bathroom away from the shared stalls where you can hunker down in a comfortable squat with the quiet of your own thoughts.

With chosen laundry basket in hand I walked around the end of the aisle and saw two young guys dressed in slouchy, baggy pants, faces sporting piercings and interesting tattoos pretty much everywhere.  Strikingly sculptured, shaved and coloured hair completed the look.  And I heard one guy say “yeah, I was at my Gramma’s last night and her fu**in’  toilet seat is cracked.  Pinched my ass! I’m gonna surprise her and buy this and put it on when I go over tomorrow”. The response from his buddy was “yeah, that’s a fu**in’ nice thing to do.”

And I smiled and thought it sure is.

 

 

 

the dog barf stain that just won’t die

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I know.  It doesn’t look like much but I’ve been after it for several years now.  I’m not sure what exactly was in the dog barf I discovered in the corner, discreetly tucked by the wall as if to say “I tried to get out on the lawn”, but it’s become my nemesis. Continue reading

pig moments and the accidental collection

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Well, it’s interesting that Sigmund Freud harkens the psychology of collecting with ties back to toilet training.  And in his way, he says that the loss of control and what went down the toilet was a loss we strive to get back by collecting things. Give or take a literal translation of his theory.  Continue reading

the gazebo, dandelions and the 9 o’clock rabbit

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Well, now I know that 10 x 10 doesn’t necessarily mean 10 x 10.  Looking to replace the fabric canopy top of my deck gazebo after several seasons, I find the actual replacement for the model I need on line…..to be shipped from deep in the USA….which is a moot point since it’s out of stock.  Okay, finding one that looks just like mine although  a different brand name,  I order it on-line in Canada and it’s shipped to a local distributor.

It looks like it will work, but the only way to find out is to wrestle it up and on and see.  Climbing up on my mini step-ladder onto the glass table (I know…… ) and here is where I found out that 10×10 means 9.5 and won’t squeeze, stretch or in any way fit.  That’s a lot of fabric to handle made more interesting as the wind picked up.  With  visions of showing up on the neighbour’s acreage to rescue my flying canopy top from the side of their garage, I quickly snagged the thing down, folded it up stuffed it back in the bag and took it back to the store.

Step # 3.  Just say screw it and buy a new gazebo. Frame and all.  Which I did. Thinking the new 10×10 top would fit I once again hefted it up and over the frame and tried it on the existing frame.  Big no. Now I’m going to have to build the whole thing.   It’s no wonder the frame of the original gazebo never moved.  We screwed that baby down to the deck never to move again.  I ended up taking the original frame top off with much gnashing of teeth and a few broken nails (damn!) and built the new gazebo inside the old one.  Put the top on and voila, a gazebo. If only I could package the fun that was! (Insert sarcasm here.)

The gazebo work was frustrating so mowing the lawn was to be my stress relief because I like to mow the lawn.  It’s dandelion13f41319b78c6c8366ab2c8a6e1aa2d756354b0d.jpeg time in my neck of the woods and since I live in the woods on acreage, we don’t use poison on our land; we mow the “lawn” consisting of a mixture of some real lawn grass, some weeds and of course dandelions.  This time of year the fields are yellow polka dot quilts with dandelions.  Unlike my “townie” friends who have perfectly manicured lawns of green velvet, I live through the dandelion time, into the clover time and then in a good year, green grass until the fall.

The thing about dandelions though, is that they are crafty.  Spiteful.  They hear the lawnmower coming and lay down like a stunt man flattening himself only to spring right  up after the car runs over him.  Not only do the dandelions spring back up, they wave their sunshine heads around on long lanky stems a good 3 inches above the freshly mowed stripe of lawn.

It turns me into a dandelion-mowing crazy woman as I go back and forth trying to catch them, losing sight of my quarry as they close up and tuck themselves in for the evening.  Come sunup, and HELLO! here we are again.  This is the spring-time ritual we dance through until they blow away and make way for clover to feed the bees.

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Pulling into the driveway late in the afternoon, I admire my lawn with waving yellow smiles in it and my canopy freshly topping off the gazebo.

My 9 o’clock rabbit was intent on nibbling grass on the edge of the driveway and after looking at me turned away and kept on munching. He usually shows up at 9 0’clock every night for a lawn snack (thus the name) but was out early this afternoon.  He perked up as I opened the trunk of my car bursting with bedding plants; flowers and vegetables to transform my world with the magic of garden gloves, dirty knees and the smell of fresh earth.

Heading to the porch with a flat of flowers balanced in each hand, I heard a rustle behind me and turned around to see my rabbit hopping to the car.  He stood up and in his little rabbity voice said “hey Sue, sommathatforme?”  His nose twitching, giving me a two-toothed rabbit smile.

I said “nope, do your job and eat the dandelions”.

And that was my week so far.