Life on My New Planet

I started my new job Tuesday. So far I only have one reaction: I love it here. The ship has landed. I am home.

Yesterday I arranged myself in my new cubical. A cube! How exciting! Since starting at VCU 9 years ago I have moved from job to job and always had my own office. Now, I have a cubical. So does my boss, and my boss's boss. I have come to understand that in the techy world we all have cubicles. And my new cube is magnificent. A large clean workspace. One wall made of white board backing. Two built in bookshelves, and my own locker area. I also have a trash can and a recycling can that are emptied every night. At most VCU offices the trash cans are emptied once a week.

My monitor is enormous, I unpacked it yesterday in the same way Nigella Lawson might unpack a sleeve of butter. My computer came in this morning, sexy gorgeous beast of a computer. Connecting the apple monitor to the apple laptop is like pouring honey into milk. Together they form the most beautiful miracle since the birth of my daughters.

Yesterday was my first staff meeting experience. 9 people. I should say 8 men and me. The only girl. Excuse me, woman. Let me introduce the ones I remember.

Don Hu - The work horse/guru of the crowd. Speaks english but I can't understand a darned thing he says. When watching President Bush give a speech he seems really entertained. Not sure what this means yet. I will keep you posted.

Jim (aka Boss) - Smiles a lot. Sandwiches thoughts between anecdotes. For instance: "This friend of mine sells foam to spray on military tents in Iraq which would cut the energy costs by 95%. Make sure you call Tim about that glitch in the LDAP system. I golfed at the most expensive golf course in Richmond this weekend. Let me tell you, that was a rip off."

The Borg - This consists of two people. For purposes here I will call them The-Man-Who-Collects-Dancing-Hampsters and A-Guy-Whos-Desk-Defies-Gravity. Collectively they call themselves "The Borg". "Well actually," they say taking turns between each word, "we are quasi-borg. You don't know what a Borg is? Star Trek. The Borgs share a brain. Their slogan is 'We will assimilate you' and ours is the same, but quasi because it's also 'We will assist you'". I am amazed but try to be clever in my response: "You assist them in assimilation?" They thought this was quite funny. Score!

Attitude Man - You know that guy....that guy when you say "Biology called, they need a new server" who follows that up with "Thats because they blew the last one with their so-called Science." Or "Humanities and Sciences needs assistance with their DNS change." And he quips "That's not all they need. They need to clear out those morons that work there." Yeah, that sums him up pretty well. Not sure what this means yet. I will keep you posted.

Two Nice Guys - There are two very nice guys. They are the closest to my age. Everyone else is in their 40's plus. These two are early 30s and they are nice. Yeah. That's all I have on them.

Right now I am eating lunch in the massive kitchen in this building. It's gorgeous. Every wall in this building is painted a different (normally offensive) color. Puke green. Violent orange. But together the ugly colors work together creating an energizing environment. The ceiling in open. Air vents hang above. I love this place.

What is your Salary?

I am eternally curious about how much money people make...my neighbor, my car salesman, my dermatologist. I am so curious (one might call it intrusively nosey) that I feel required to spurt out to my hairstylist: "So exactly how much of this sixty bucks comes back to you?"

It's a shallow and crass habit, I accept that judgement, I wear that letter.

I blame it on consumerism, capitalism, and an insaitable need to know how business works. What is skimmed off the top? How much of my $60 goes to the hairstylist? how much to her boss? and how much to the man?

How much of her money goes to rent? Does she have a roommate? Children? What are the mechanics of her day to day? How much debt does she have? What kind of assests has she secured against her debt? What are her future goals? Does she always want to be a stylist or maybe one day own her own salon? And then of course there is the question, why is she giving me that I-am-going-to-slap-this-intrusive-bitch look?

This thought train started from a CNN article explaining the Clinton vs. Obama voting pool. Median household incomes under $50K per year go to Hillary. Above $50K go to Obama.

So what does that really mean? How many households are under $50K? Basically, are there enough poor folk in Oregon that Hillary could have a chance of winning???

I wiki'd it. (because university professors all agree that wikipedia is the most reliable source of information in existance...that was sarcasm, please don't spam me).

The average household income in the US is.....drum roll.....$48,201. (Go HRC!)A household income means total earners in house over 15, so in my house that would be the combination of 2 salaries. (Well three salaries if we convince Chick-fil-a that Payton is 15, and not 9 years old, and fully old enough and intelligent enough to fry chicken.)

The average household income in VA? $55,368. Such over-achievers!

So broken down to stats that matter more to me.

Male with high school diploma: $28,763
Female with high school diploma: $15,962
Male w/ bachelors: $50,916
Female w/ bachelors: $31,309

(Dude whats up with the men folk making so much more than us women??)

I am pretty shocked, given my collected data from real world cases, that with a college degree women only average $31,309. Even with a doctoral degree women still average about $53K. Wow.

I'm not going to share the men's salary, let's just say it's nearly double in some areas to the womens...you can see it for yourself here.

So the next time I break the language barrier to ask my asian dry cleaning lady how much of that $1.95 shirt cleaning charge goes into her personal pocketbook, I'll be sure to impressed when she tells me her annual salary is $92,000 and she is in the top 5% of women earners in Virginia.

And I am not.

Shia Shia.

Last Tuesday at SOE

Today is my last Tuesday at my current job. A random Tuesday would appear insignificant but then I think about the number of Tuesdays over the last 3 years that I was late to work because I spent 30 minutes looking for a parking spot near my building, and I get a little sad knowing that next Tuesday I'll be circling around another block a half a mile away.

All that nostalgia aside, I am so darned stoked that today is my last Tuesday in the School of Education. The thing is, I am kinda scared. I am not just switching jobs, I am changing careers totally. Luckily I am only 31, but unfortunately I am 31. 31 with a mortgage, 2 car payments, 2 children, and an (out of control) equity line. So this job has to work...it has to be my ticket to the big cash pot at the end of the suburban rainbow.

Boy, did I eat out this past weekend!.

Friday lunch my office took Karen to Maggianos in Short Pump. I nearly cashed out my children's college fund to pay for a luke warm plate of eggplant parmesean and a bitter piece of dry bread. Total bill = $32.

Friday night I hung out at Stool Pigeons with, my latest favorite person, Dana. She ordered some gross animal remains (also known as hamburgers) and I ordered a totally untasty plate of nachos. Total with beer = $25.

Saturday morning I was cleaning the house for mother in laws visit. Breakfast was a bagel and latte from Starbucks. Total = $8. Kids and hubby ate donuts (yuck!).

Saturday lunch was sushi at Wasabi. Total = $12. Kids and hubby ate Burger King (yuck!).

Saturday Dinner was pizza from Papa Johns. Omg, I ordered the 6 cheese pizza and I nearly fainted, it was so tasty. Total = $32.

Sunday morning Payton and I woke early and took pictures in Shockoe Bottom. Quick Starbucks munchies and latte = $13.

Sunday lunch with Chris's Dad and future wife at Buffalo Wild Wings = $75.

Okay I need a break. I can't believe the money I spend on eating out. And the calories!!

There was also CiCi's Pizza on Thursday and Little Mexico yesterday for lunch with Maggie. (Love ya Magster!). Oh and the latte with Karen yesterday afternoon at Crossroads.

I'm starting to think I have issues. That is only 4 1/2 days!

No wonder my equity line is out of control.

Yikes.

Sunday Quiet

Right now the children are snuggled under layers of freshly laundered quilts. Chris is watching a TV show about Frito Lay's assembly line. Therefore, I am blessed with a quiet handful of me-time hours.

My first task was to look through the dozens of picture I snapped this evening. Boy did it rain tonight! Our skinny ditch quickly turned into a wadding pond. When the rain slowed, the air filled with a beautiful ethereal light. A green freshness mirrored from tree to tree and then across the street pavement casting a lovely brightness against the dark clouds. A bit of sun helped form gentle shadows of dripping trees down onto the wet grass.

What a sight! So I grabbed my camera and started shooting...the sky, the trees, the water droplets on the deck...I wanted to capture that light. But I quickly realized that unless I master aperture and f stops, I'll only produce black and blurry photos.

Rather then reference the seventeen books that I own with names like "How-To-Use-Your-$1000-Camera", I used my misplaced sense of expertise to determine that a tripod would cure all my photography woes. So Chris and I searched the house For something that would hold the camera steady. We settled on a ladder, which would have been ideal, however one rung was too high, producing pointless pictures of tree branches in the sky; and the next rung was too low, producing what you see below:



Now, this picture isn't going to win me any awards, I posted it mainly because I took 62 pictures and, dammit, I was going to post at least one of them!

Oh I also have to post this picture:





I have to post this picture because of this conversation:

ME: Look honey we've got marijuana growing in our yard!
HUBBY: That isn't marijuana, its a weed.
ME: Baby that isn't just any weed, it's THE weed, mary jane, the good stuff
HUBBY: No it's a weed...now you are going to blog about how we have weed growing in our yard
ME: Of course I am! It's right there!

I have a new obsession. This is scary for me to admit, but I have to put it out on the table. First let me say I rebel against Vera Bradley purses, I mean seriously? Those are totally frumpy. This, too was the way I felt about Yankee candles, but more because the store's smell sent me into mini convulsions. However, I learned that Cracker Barrel (Geez thats another place I swore I'd never visit or be seen visiting) sells Yankee Candles, and on a whim I purchased one. And I burned it for 4 days straight. Thats almost 100 hours! And I fell madly in love with the comforting smell of my house. In fact I fell in love with my house again, because of that $25 candle. Today I am on my 3rd Yankee Candle. This one is called Dune Grass:





Oh it's yummy. yummy. yummy.

Here are two more pictures I retouched tonight of my restful buddha bookends:









Now I am contemplating bed. I am reading "100 Years of Solitude" and I'm at the point where 10 people are name Jose Arcadio Buendia. I'm confused who is the great-great-grandfather and who is he shagging. You know, because it's the parts with the shagging that really hold my attention.

Tomorrow I get to tell my boss I found another job and I QUIT!

Ah, just another day. What a blessed life I have.

Whine...

Sunday night my husband forced me to watch Extreme Home Makeover. I hate that show. Especially when Ty starts crying. I wanna shake him and say c’mon you ADHD basket case, hold it together. He irritates my most inner being. And he needs a throat lozenge.

However, the house they built Sunday night was dreamy. And the wife was presented with her very own soaking tub. So I started thinking. Why don’t I have a jetted step-in bathtub? How come I only have a sucky stand-up shower stall in my bathroom? Why am I so deprived in life?

I’ve decided my 2009 goal will be to get myself one of those fancy soaking tubs. I don’t know where I’ll put it, but I want one. Even if it’s outside in the shed.

This is the game hubby plays.

Me: Do we have any strawberry ice cream? I really want strawberry ice cream!

Him: I think I have some in my shed.

Then he grabs his keys and goes to the store, buys the ice cream, comes back and declares "Yes! There was strawberry ice cream in the shed!"

It’s all very cute.

Don’t get me wrong, sometimes there is no strawberry ice cream in the shed. And sometimes there is no shed at all.

But strawberry ice cream aside, the really important question is.....Is there a hot tub in that shed? And when is the soonest he can get it hooked up in the house?

Number 18,861

Saturday I ran the 10K! I came in 18,861st place. I did it! Woohoo. I rock.

I ran most of it. It poured rain. I became a bit emotional at the finish line. It’s the farthest I’ve ever run. 6.2 miles. 10k. I’m thrilled! After the race I walked a mile and half to my car, so lets call that 8 miles total. Then I passed out on the couch and woke up two days later. :)

I trained for 3 months and now I am never running again. Haha just kidding. Training for the 1/2 marathon in November...that’s 13 miles kids. Who’s with me?

I kinda like it but I kinda hate it

Early this morning, I wrote a well thought-out blog on racism in America. I let it live for an hour on myspace, then I deleted it. I decided that this space, my blog space, should not be a place of heavy left-ism thought. While indeed I am a liberal gal, there is no need shoving my agenda in anyone’s face when they’d rather read about how many times I hear the toilet flush from the crapper adjacent to my office. Anyhow, I’d rather consider the implication of having an office so close to the bathroom, than wage heavy political battles amongst my friends.

My how far I’ve come from those feminist days in college. I’ve traded Wollstonecraft for Austen. In my defense, didn’t Wollstonecraft try to drown herself in oven gas?

Here in this school of education, our firecracker Dean hired 2 somewhat questionable Assistant Deans. Wait, make that 3 questionable {This part was edited out, c’mon guys I don’t wanna lose the paycheck}

And the third. The "absent minded professor". How this ditzy woman made it through college we will never know. Although I am convinced she uses her stupidity as an excuse for breaking the rules. "Oh, I can’t take my family out to eat on VCU money? I didn’t realize that. Well, just see what you can do to fix it."

She just poked her head into my office and said in her light airy voice (which is a long description for totally fake) "There are donuts in the Dean’s Office. Krispy Kreme." I believe she was expecting me to jump up, grab her, kiss her flat on the lips, cry a bit, and dash for the donut box. She was rather disapointed in my reaction which was simply "No thanks." She frooze, gave me a weasel stare, then click-clacked off to the crapper.

Meanwhile my coworker, freshly returned from a root canal, is flying high off pain medicine. She is literally dancing in the hallways. She is a child of the hippy generation and I am slightly worried she may strip and run naked down the hall.

I want what she is having.

I went out to eat with Angelica a couple of days ago. She says "Oh you got your haircut. I like it, but I kinda hate it too." Bothered by this, I say to hubby, "do you like my haircut?" He says "Yeah, it’s okay." I said, "Angelica said she kind of hates it." He says "Well, I liked it better long." So I ask my coworker Heather, "Was my hair better before?" She says "Noway, it’s a change, change is good." I say, "Yeah but I don’t get hit on anymore." She says "That’s precicely why I cut my hair. I was tired of the Bubbas hitting on me." I say, "Yeah, thats true it was always the Bubbas when I had all that hair." She concludes, "Long hair makes the Bubbas think you are young, silly, and impressionable. Men can get in the pants of the long-haired girls." So I am left wondering, at almost 31, do I really care if I am the type of girl men want to get in the pants of? I mean shouldn’t that ego-stroking end at some point in a womans life when they decide to get serious about being a person and not just a piece of meat? Uh oh, I’m philiospohizing on a liberal platform again. But let me say one last thing, most women over 30 love short hair, and I get it. It’s easy to do. professional. and confident. Just like me...with the exception of easy to do, I mean seriously...

My coworker, Dana (the-hot-one-men-drool-over-that-also-sits-beside-the-crapper), is in Vegas right now loving life. I was supposed to be in Vegas next week. But I couldn’t pull it together. So instead I will be at home watching 1970 Oscar films. Honestly they should have shut Hollywood down during that decade.

So now just 2 more fake and bake hours left of this state-employee’s day. And then I’m off to pay my state-employee-fine (aka parking), then to the shrink, then to a dirty kitchen and two children who are bubbly no matter if the kitchen is clean or not.