Cakes

This is Camden Dog-de-Luna, aka Cakes or Sweet Cakes. He is a little over 3 and the best dog in the universe. The last time I owned a dog I was 16 years old and I had forgotten how absoulutely wonderful dogs are. He is my baby.

I Want to Retire!!

For the last 11 weeks I’ve been making all sorts of plans for retiring. Just when I have really settled into the retirement is the best option track; they (the bosses) have posted a job I would love. A promotion – a job that would be a good fit for me. I have lots of experience so I would be comfortable but it would be challenging enough to require growth and learning.

The problem is my mind is now firmly into the “I’m going to retire” camp. I don’t want to open up the possible promotion camp. I don’t want to get back into the work for a million more years camp. I like being in the retirement camp. Its comfortable and comforting.

It’s not so much that I might not get the job; though not getting it will hurt. What I’m really frightened of is that I might get the job. That will mean postponing, or dropping all together, my retirement mindset. I won’t be able to sleep all I want, I won’t be able to quilt and knit, and scrapbook to my hearts desire. The closets will remain unorganized, the corners Ms E. doesn’t get to won’t get cleaned.

Life is hard. Once we’ve made plans, why can’t life readily accommodate our plans?

Sandy

He is a handsome hunk of cat. He is loving, demanding and sweet tempered. Sandy is the oldest guy cat. He sleeps in bed, under the covers, next to me. When he wants petting he nudges and nudges until I pet him. If I stop too earyly he starts nudging all over again. If I don't clean out the litter box soon enough, he pees in the dirty clothes. Any of you wnat a cat?

Sandy Al-o-Purr

Out Door Education

I Feel GOOD!!!!

I’m sitting at work feeling absolutely fantastic. It is all I can do to restrain myself from getting up and dancing around the office.

I haven’t felt this way at work in a long time, not since losing “the promotion” (there was only one, at least there was only one that I knew was mine.” I’m enjoying feeling good and thinking it will continue. I still get stuck on the believe that feeling good at work means I’ve agree with the decision (to not promote me). I’m not in the mood to analyze myself. It just feels good to feel good.

Ways to have fun

I sit at my desk and figure out how many more week days I have until I retire. Once I subtract vacation days and holidays I’m left with the remaining “drive to work” days. While that number is better then the actual days between then and now, it is still way too high. My latest plan is how many days would it take, if as soon as I got here, I went home and drove to work again, repeatedly, all day long but only during regular work and commute hours. It would still take me weeks—but a whole lot fewer weeks then it takes if I can only count one drive to work each work day. Hmm…I wish it worked that way.

Relive the 60s. Boy A has a new passion for the Beatles, Dylan and Arlo Gutherie. Right now he is stuck on the Beatles and plays and replays every Beatles song ever recorded. All day long, every day. He plays in the car on the way home from camp, each afternoon—which I don’t really mind except for the fact that just as I start car-dancing to the music and singing along, he either changes to a new song or commands me to stop embarrassing him.

I Love Being a Mom

It's slow, very slow at work right now. So I'm catching up on my surreptitious blog reading. Plain-Jane (she's my girl-- at least in my own mind) is talking my life today. At least the part about living with a 13 year old boy with ADD. Boy-A is 14 and has ADD. She and I are living the same life.

The Washington Post has a quest blogger writing a column. This blogger, a married woman with 3 children under 6 years, and invited a Russian teenage orphan girl to live with them for the summer. Her short blog captures both the joy and the hard work of the new additon to the family.

Both Plain-Jane and the Post guest blogger capture a moment of family life, the joy, the hard work. It's these quick, sharp slices of live that resonate so deeply with me, that draw me into blogging. I want to be able to touch people with the same power.

Pink Shoes

What does it say about me, that upon seeing an appropriately shoed youung woman, my immediate first feeling was to smack her over the head with my diet coke!

It is no doubt, the fault of those pink shoes that I am oh so inadvisedly wearing. They do not go with my olive green print pants, dark beige jacket or pale beige tank top. But I was late this morning and these were the only shoes I could find. I kow I should stay at my desk and keep my feet savely hidden, but I am too bored. I have to wander and if I am going to wander I need to resist the urge to soda smack others.

Better mood today.

Probably because I got off my butt and took my pill. When I think about there is something upsetting about depending on drugs to keep my mind centered. So I try not to think about it.

Anyway, today is better, except that it is Monday and I have work. Some days, these days, the only way I can get to work is to count down the number of days left to go. I tell myself I can get up because I only have X number week days to go and those days include Y vacation days and Z holidays. So I’m here.

I’m sitting here wondering why I am willing to write about depression and medication, but I am not willing to put in the number of days until I retire. Go figure.

The nice thing about knowing I will retire soon is that I can put off all sorts of tasks until after the big day. Of course once I retire I’ll have to come up with a new excuse.

Depression Sucks

All three guys are out playing golf and I am doing chores, odds and ends and feeling miserable. I forgot the stupid, ugly, scum sucking pill this morning. Not taking Effexor sucks. At least not taking Effexor sucks when you are fighting depression. What is with me. I hate the term sucks. It is way to middle school.

But most of all I hate depression. I hate that feeling of pressure in the middle of my chest--a balloon expanded just enough to make me constantly aware that it is there and for me to constantly be uncomfortable and sad.

I hate the way it takes my energy away. I hate the way it takes the fun out of my life, how it steals my willingness to do something extra, do something more.

For example, I told the guys I would go shopping and make a dinner with a salad, squash stir-fry and cookies. And I can’t--or at least I won’t, get in the car and shop. I’ll make a nice dinner, but not the dinner I promised. I’ll do the chores I need to do, but not move on to do the fun things.

I hate depression, it means I do what I need to do, I do more then just exist, but not what I should. I don’t do what I need to enjoy my life.--I don’t look for enjoyment, I wait for it to come to me. And I may not always recognize enjoyment if it slaps me in the face.

Teens

My boys are teens...at least one is and the other will be in a few months. It is so very easy to embarrass them. Some times I do, just for the fun of it and sometinmes I "cherish their emerging adulthood and respect their feelings" and other times I just don't worry about it and do what I want to do.

We were driving home last night and I let Big Guy control the music. He was listening to Beatles and I was singing along, at least for all of 10 seconds. He asked (well demanded) that I stop, because he wanted to be able to hear himself. I agreed, after all I can't carry a tune. But I was still in the mood, I needed an outlet. So I silently grooved to Eleanor Rigby. Lip syncing and one handed air guitaring (the other spent most of it's time steering). Well at least I tried. I had to stop because I was too embarrrasing, people could see me. In the car at 45 MPH.

I gave in, rather crabbily. I was just going to head bob to the music. But I gave one, exceedingly cool, sophisticated, head jiving bob and pulled a muscle in my neck.

It hurts to get old.

Things about me.

I:

Think the road should belong to me and if you are driving the speed limit in the far left lane you should move to the right or be shot (by the universal “Linell’s rules” enforcer.

Think I have the 2 best kids in the world. And know for a cold hard fact that sometimes aliens invade their bodies and turn them into monsters.

Love my husband and can’t imagine not being married to him. That said he is a pain in the butt. Would it kill him to throw trash in the trash, put away the things he takes out and finish the tasks he starts?

Love my Chardonnay but can easily drink too much if I have it in the house.

Thank Bill Gates for spell check, because I can’t spell my way through this entry.

Wish I could consistently make healthy choices about what I should eat and how much I should exercise. In fact if I could make those intelligent choices just a little more consitently, I would be happy.

Love to read. Currently I am enjoying what I call “slice of life” books. They are biographies or autobiographies that discuss in depth a segment of a person’s life. My recent favorite is “Lincoln’s Melancholy” by Joshua Wolf Shenk. I also like quick, fun reads, i.e. Janet Evanovitch or Stephen King.

Wish I had the ability to write as well as my favorite online journalists

Wish I was as warm and interesting in writing as I really am (in my own very humble opinion).

Have always wanted long, think, blonde hair.

Counting the Days

I making serious plans to retire. I'll be 55 soon, have worked at the same place for 32 years and I'm ready to say goodbye. I'm planning on volunteering at the local elementary school helping children learn to read, cleaning out and organizing closets, working on quilting, knitting and scrap booking and getting in decent shape.

But first I plan on sleeping for a week solid.

Hubby has always had morning duty, he is responsible for getting the boys ready for school or summer camp or what ever they had to do on a week day morning. I have always been responsible for being home to meet the bus and take care of the afternoon stuff. We both think the other has the better deal. He has had to get crabby guys up and get them dressed and out of the house on time. I had to get up early so I could leave in time to meet the bus and supervise homework.

I'm tired of getting up early and he is tired of being morning dad. Since he won't retire when I do, I will take over the morning responsibilities. But we have both reached agreement that I get to sleep in for the first week and he hands over responsibilty on week two of retirement.

Back to counting down. I have 164.5 week days of work remaining. That includes 2 weeks of vacation and 8 holidays or a grand total of a maximum of driving to work another 146 days. It seems forever.

Next Time He Goes Away

The big guy is on a business trip and I can't sleep. I was talking about it to a co-worker and I ended up inviting her husband to come over to spend the night. Don't get me wrong, I just need sleep and I can't sleep without some one next to me. She said no!!

Next time the big guy goes away I may start looking for a someone to be a warm, snoring body next to me. That will teach him to go on a buisnesss trip.

I tried to get the pooch to sleep with me last night, but he left the room after about two minutes. Of course during those 2 minutes, he chased the cats, turned circles on the bed and licked my face. I hate, absolutlely hate dog kisses. But I like cat kisses. It's just the difference between the cat's rough and relatively dry tongue and the dog's oh so slobbery, drippy, slippery tongue.