Don't look back

Don't look back don't look back don't look back.

I chanted to myself over and over again after I said goodbye and boarded the escalator to the next floor up. Tears in my eyes. Don't fucking look back. This is goodbye, not see you soon. Goodbyes like this don't get a look back. And they don't get tears.

Goddamnit don't cry. And do fucking not look back.

And then I did. And I was reminded of the story in the bible where the one true god demanded that a family flee from their city that he was destroying and told them they'd be doomed if they looked back on it. The woman did and she turned to a pillar of salt.

But I stepped off the escalator and was still whole. Except for the tears that had escaped along the way. But those don't matter. I'll make more later.

Jetlag or?

I arrived in Johannesburg on Saturday morning after 1 domestic and 3 international flights. The plane I was meant to take from Minnesota to Amsterdam had mechanical problems, so we got off the plane and waited 4 hours for the replacement. My connection to Johannesburg left 10 minutes before I arrived in Amsterdam, so I boarded the next flight to Frankfurt and finally to my destination.

After 2 days of travel, I wanted nothing more than a shower and a change of clothes. Unfortunately, my luggage was left in Amsterdam, so I got the shower and went shopping.

My luggage still isn't with me, but I have a really cute new hat, jacket, scarf, etc. I've mainly been going pantiless because I forgot to buy extras. It's actually kind of liberating.

Off to a big soccer match between Brazil & USA tonight then Cape Town tomorrow. I'm looking forward to getting my groove on with the locals there.

So I said to the plane

Will you use your wings to take me somewhere far, far away?

And the plane said yes.

Adventure awaits me in South Africa.

Driving is hard.

January 9, 2006, I was driving my little Miata (that I just gotten back from the mechanic. WooHoo!) and made a grave mistake.

I was in unfamiliar territory - my sister Maria and I had gone out to try a Chinese restaurant a town several miles from my home. I was exiting to go across the street and paused a bit at the exit because there was something a little bit off about the ramp, but it was dark and it looked fine after all and so I continued forward.

Stupid, stupid, stupid curb!!! And Stupid Miata and stupid driver behind the wheel!!!

So there I was with Maria, stuck on the curb. My back wheels were still touching pavement, but just barely. We got out and surveyed the damage. Two guys pulled over to offer to help and Maria goes- Wow! This is a great way to pick up guys. And I thought- oh yeah. Keep that one in my pocket for future reference. Right now I'm just worried about my adorable little car and so the guys walked over and decided what to do.

Can I just take this moment to thank mother nature for the invention of boys and muscles and ingenuity? I love boys.

SO- they decided I should get in and hit the reverse while they both lifted the front of my car to push it back. It worked right away and I thanked them both profusely.

I would have loved to get the very cute boy's attention under other circumstances, but I don't think he could ever really respect me after seeing me drive right off a curb.

My car was fine. Maybe a new little noise, but it kept going until I traded it in for my granny car a month later. I decided not to drive off any more curbs.

As fate will have it

Sometimes in life, we reach a turning point.

It's a point in time when there are so many possibilities. So much opportunity. Twisting, winding paths. I'm there. At a turning point.

I was laid off from my super corporate basement cubicle job at a giant company last week. I was ELATED. As the vice president of my department was breaking the news to me in her office with the human resources guy there to explain the process and the severance package, I was stifling the urge to do cartwheels.

They were both shocked when I thanked them for this. This wonderful vacation. They're paying me 6 full months of salary plus a bonus just to get me out of their hair.

My department was dissolving because funding had been cut to a minimum for the project we were working on. All over the company, they are laying folks off and cutting costs. Everything had been moving at a snail's pace and I wanted out of there with a fiery passion. I got what I wanted and it was everything I could do not to squeal with delight when I started to pack up my office and wheel the boxes out.

Freedom. Sweet, delicious time.

But now. Now I have some decisions to make. What the hell am I going to do? I'm not worried about finding work. I have a usable skill set and a stable employment record. My resume looks good and I'll work on it to make it even better.

The decisions about which job to take aren't on the top of my mind. They are about where to go from here.

Vacation. What to do, what to do...

let's talk about tact: Then/Now

Resurrected post from 1 year ago today:

My grandfather passed away in the early hours this morning.
Know how I found out?
A text message from my aunt.
I was prepared for this news, but who fucking sends a text to announce a family member's death?
Then, not 20 minutes later, I got a text from my dad- grandpa is gone.
And I thought... Did anyone in this family learn anything about tact-Ever???
As I was steaming about that, my dad calls.
He apologized for waking me, but not for sending that message by text. What an ass. After I asked if he was okay and he confirmed that yes he was, we were very thankfully done talking. (FYI I'm not a fan of my dad)

Seriously, texting death messages?? There is a time and place for texts. This isn't it. Assholes.

And a new take:

It's been a year now. My grandfather was the only constant male figure that I looked up to throughout my life. He was kind and generous and FUNNY and cuddly and patient and so so intelligent.

He was a thorasic cardiovascular surgeon and the president of a mormon temple and a dedicated gardener. A very busy man. He always and forever made time for his family and showered us with love. He taught me how to play well with others and to respect people from all cultures, no matter what differing views we have.

Three days after he passed, my grandmother fell in her front yard. She broke her shoulder. Along with her mental anguish, she was in terrible pain and couldn't do much at all for herself.

She had a complete breakdown. Her docs prescribed some pain killers, antidepressants, and valium for her. She cried all day and all night- hardly sleeping because her best friend from the time she was in 5th grade was gone.

My aunt and uncle recently rescued her from a pit of despair and checked her into a hospital. She transferred out to a convalescent home about a week later. She is in physical and mental rehabilitation and finally feels human and ready to live again. Tonight, they're taking her out to dinner- to celebrate grandpa's life and to close the book on grandma's deep mourning.

As soon as she is capable of living on her own again, they'll take her home and set her up with a maid/cook 3 times a week to make sure she has every chance possible to relax and to meet up with the other widows in her area. She knows of 30 just off the top of her head.

Seeing my grandma go through this after the loss of her husband scares the shit out of me. What if I end up giving my heart to someone and they're gone one day. Ouch. I can't imagine how much it hurts.

Grandpa, I hope you've found peace.

Sometimes, a picture really does say it all

I am so professional... NOT!

I just left a little team meeting at work in the basement.

I was in my boss' office with a couple other staff members to work on some strategery stuff. One of my teamies asked about where our boss got the content in a presentation slide.

She said "I just pulled this out of my behind."
He said "Well, it looks really good."

I, of course, giggled and looked down at my notebook where I had been scribbling notes throughout the meeting.

Then, he said "Considering where it came from."

It's a good thing my team has gotten used to my childish sense of humor.

Dear Liver,

I know that I don't treat you well and that sometimes, I forget all that you do for me. You work tirelessly to process everything that I throw at you and there isn't any overtime pay. I just want you to know that I appreciate it. I appreciate YOU. Lots and lots.

Love,
Tabbie. Like Cabbie, with a T.

P.S. I'm so sorry about this weekend. Beer, vodka, champagne, and wine aren't supposed to mix well. But you make it work! Again, thank you thank you thank you.