Checking in with Tater, Part 2

You know it’s not gonna be a good day, Tater…when you wonder what’s taking the coffee pot so long and wander into the kitchen to find that you’ve put a filter in (check), put coffee in said filter (check), put water in the carafe (check), and turned on the pot.

Missing step? POUR THE WATER INTO THE COFFEE POT. A full carafe of water sitting in the pot does no good, it seems…

You know you’re exhausted when…Part Two

Let me quickly say first that I have a wonderful boss. He is a very intelligent man, quick-witted, dry sense of humor, and an all around good guy. I am quite lucky to work for someone who trusts my work enough to let me do my job without hovering about…rare in a state job. So no worries about getting Dooce’d over this posting.

One thing my boss is NOT is observant. I once cut about 10 inches off my hair and it took him several months to ask me what looked different about me. It requires a radical change in one’s appearance to get his attention and even more so to make him comment…such as if I stopped wearing suits to interpret in probate court and suddenly showed up in a halter top and flip flops. Well, actually, that would probably involve the authorites, an indecent exposure charge and some sort of endangerment to minors, but I digress…

My boss looked at me today and said, “Are you all right? You look sort of…” (pause as he, God bless him, searches for a non-offensive way to say I look like the underside of a mudflap in a blizzard)

“I look sort of what?”

“Well, sort of…grrrrrr.”


“Yeah, you know, grrr. Tense.”

I reminded him what day it was, and said that I was tired, and I handed him my leave slip from being out sick yesterday. God bless him again, he didn’t ask any more questions.

And here I thought that I looked rather “weeeee hooooo” with a touch of “oh mah gaaahd how granola!” today, as I skipped the makeup (to avoid raccoon-ism should I think of Bo and cry) and have my rats nest of curly tresses pulled up in a ponytail. I wonder if it’s my shoulders that are saying “grrrr” or perhaps my giant forehead…it does tend to snarl a bit when I pull back the hair that it normally hides behind.

Thank goodness it’s only 2 weeks until I leave to go to Sandy Paws and Jacksonville for five days…we wouldn’t want my “grrrr” to turn into a “rawr” or a “grrooowwwwl” because that’s when people get hurt. It’s only funny until someone’s attitude puts out an eye, after all.

Ah, the Triumphant Return of the Tired

I discovered something yesterday. I’m old. I am an old woman. I’m a cranky, set in her ways, can’t stay up late without serious repercussions to her mental health Old Woman.

Yesterday I went to visit my sister and her husband. I was supposed to be taking a friend of ours with me to visit, but he never responded to me about when/where to meet. A week, I’m telling you, is too long to go without so much as a short “I’m busy” message when you are planning a trip. The icing on that cake was checking the messages I’d sent (via message board we both belong to because he NEVER checks his email) yesterday before leaving to find all of them still sitting comfortably in my outbox. Yeesh.

So, the puppers and I struck out alone yesterday to go see Dave and Susan. Dave had surgery on his shoulder on Tuesday, and can’t move it for…2 weeks I think. He’s in a sling, and had a nerve block until about 5am yesterday morning. I just can’t even imagine…the worst thing that has ever been done to me at the hands of a doctor would be the staph infection I had on my leg in conjunction with a spider bite…had to be “removed” which is doctor-speak for “dug out.” Who knew they made post-holers that small, or that my mother could turn that many shades of nauseous green? Anyway…

So we went, and had a good time hanging out with Dave and Susan. Dave is in remarkable spirits considering the pain he is obviously in most of the time. He does get cranky, and I think that’s a “man-trying-to-deal-with-pain” issue. But we chatted and got my sister set up with an EQ character of her very own to play (yes, I am spreading the addiction…fear me!)…and then turned on the Grammy awards to watch.

Now I knew I was old before this, but I think last night was just the clarifying moment that drove the point home. Susan went to Dave’s church to cover a Bible study for him (though the heathen in me must admit that having someone lead a Bible study under the influence of “Elvis Presley’s White M&Ms” would have been amusing…)and Dave and I were left to watch the Grammys.

Me: “Yikes on the dress choice, girly looks like she’s pregnant!”

Dave: “She is pregnant.”

Me: “Oh…well, her hair kinda looks like someone pulled it too tight.”

Dave: Grunting noise that almost sounded like a snore, but he had just passed M&M refill time…

Me: “Now there were only two people in that entire category that I even recognized, Missy Elliot and Eminem. What does that say about me?”

Dave: “I really like Kayne West, his song…” and that’s when I stopped recognizing anything he said…and then it hit me…

Me: “Kayne West, is he the one with the thing and Mike Myers and stopping the tape?”

Dave (miraculously understanding my moment of near speaking in tongues): “Yes, Nancy, the one that made the provocative comments during the Hurricane Katrina benefit.”

Me: “What is with those gloves? It’s not cold in there. And the sunglasses, do you really think he can see the audience with those on?”

Dave: “Man, you ARE old.”

I’d like pause here to point out that Dave is only NINE MONTHS younger than I am.

Susan’s Bible study coverage lead to her visiting parishioners that were in the hospital due to a car accident and then heading back home around 10pm. At 10:15pm I was standing behind her showing her how to play EQ, wide awake. At 10:30 I was in the car, sending Dave a BB message to remind him Drawn Together was on Comedy Central in case he was still wound up in the glamour and glitz and bad hairstyles and grubby jeans extravaganza known as the Grammy Awards. At 11pm I was cruising through Gwinnett County, finishing my bottle of water and thinking that I was worried about leaving late for nothing, I’d done this plenty of times in my YOUNG life, I could make it home, no sweat.

11:45pm: Stop at the JeVerson exit (that was for my Mom) and get gas at the QT, lament the emptiness of the water bottle that had kept me awake so far.
12:15am: Pass the Lavonia exit and lament lack of cash and current determination not to stop at a McDonald’s in the middle of the night.
12:16am: Notice that I’ve just referred to the time as the middle of the night and think again how OLD I am.
12:30am: Stop at the Clemson exit and grab a chicken sandwich, fries and a soda at a Wendy’s. Tell myself that Wendy’s doesn’t count as fast food because it’s healthier than McDonald’s.
1am Turn off the highway onto Pleasantburg Drive to head home.
1:15am Pull into the driveway.
2am Actually get in the bed and stare at the ceiling, two greyhounds vying for the 2 inches of space left that they and the three cats and I are not occupying.

And this morning? I officially feel like the underside of a mudflap. But I had a great time yesterday, despite the revelation that I am old…