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Things are tough here at work and I am certain that it will become tougher over the next 14 months. Our current department head, an elected official, has chosen not to run for the office again and two of his senior managers are coming out as primary candidates. It’s been fodder for the local paper for weeks. I’ll spare you from the dirty details, but it is already dividing the department in two. Some serious actions that have been taken are likely to have a major impact on the reputation of one of the candidates.
I have known both for my entire career. I respect them both but favor one in this contest. I have believed for years that he would eventually reach this position and take the department in an innovative and exciting direction. While I believe the other candidate is qualified, I wouldn’t expect his mark on the agency to look much different than what we have now. The choice for me isn’t a tough one. Watching what I believe to be intentionally unscrupulous behavior on the part of people who are supposed to be of impeccable ethics, morals and character is very tough.
I tend not to see, to understand, gray. I am black and white. I thought black and white would fit perfectly into an agency that enforces laws; a bunch of rule followers, not rule-breakers. Not so much. I become disillusioned easily when people I hold in high esteem let me down. The real truth, in my mind, is that they did nothing to me, they let THEMSELVES down. I’ve been told, more times than I care to count, that my standards are too high; my expectations of others, too great. I used to think that people told me that because they didn’t want to exert the effort necessary to reach that standard. What they seem to miss is that what I really care about most is the ‘aim and shoot’ of it, not the goal of hitting the target. The real failure, to me, is not trying.
I was born into a family lead by a politician, one who had reached the height of his policical career (the first time) before I was born. I have memories of me, as a very young child, hiding under the dining room table on election night waiting for the results to come in. Legs of grown-ups moving all around the table, in and out of the lower half of doorways that I could see from my height restricted vantage point. I could tell people cared deeply about something by the cheers of joy or cursing under one’s breath. I just didn’t know what everyone was so interested in.
When I was older, my older brother and I would go to the City Hall of our town and run precinct results from the City Clerk’s office, where results would be reported, to the lobby where the results of the various local elections and measures were posted for all to see. I was too young then to realize the real impact on the lives and egos of the candidates; especially the ones who earned fewer votes than the others. I’ll never forget the last election my father ran in. I will NEVER forget the way it FELT.
Through all the choosing up sides, secret meetings, dirty tricks, newspaper articles, op-eds, and blog comments, people are hurting the oppostion, themselves, and the reputation of the department. People who I have spoken to about this tell me that the candidats are big boys and they can take it; that if they can’t take it, they shouldn’t be in the race. That if their spouses can’t take the accusations by bloggers of their infidelity, they shouldn’t have decided to run. These men have children, grandchildren, moms and dads. The friends of their children, grandchildren, moms and dads hear and read these comments. These words hurt them too. They didn’t sign up for this.
I am not looking forward to these next 14 months.
my debit card (in the clothes dryer). My mind, however, was not with it.
My office has been in the same place (within a few feet either way) on the third floor of this building for just shy of 19 years. The orientation is northwest, I’d say, but don’t hold me to that because I didn’t perform any official GPS calculations to come up with it. I have a wall of windows about 3 feet to the left of me as I sit at my desk, 9 hours a day. (If my computer monitor is at 12 o’clock, the window is at 11 o’clock.) So I have much opportunity to look out. (Oddly, I don’t spend much time doing so.) Beyond the vast parking lot, which for the most part you have to look down to see, lies many, many trees, then the rolling hills of Ventura and (at about 9:30 I’d say) a view of Two Trees, a local landmark that used to be Twelve Trees or something like that. Groups try to save these trees and preserve the hills around them. They are a pretty big deal around here. And they are my view.
A few weeks ago I was at the gym on a Saturday afternoon, which is unusual because we are usually there late at night. Our gym is at the harbor and all of the downstairs equipment faces the north, and a wall of windows facing the boat harbor. It’s a lovely view but if you’re there at night you can’t really appreciate what’s out there, as it is as close to the dark of night as it comes. So on that particular Saturday afternoon I was on the elliptical, hating it and everything in general, when I looked out the window and noticed the view. I guess hating the elliptical machine blinded me to how lucky I am to be in such a beautiful place, with such beautiful weather. I was feeling very humble like I had been shown how wrong I was for hating the elliptical when I noticed those darn Two Trees, off in the distance. Now my gym and my office are, I don’t know, 8 or 10 miles apart. But my view from both is the same Two Trees from much different vantage points or perspectives. I’m not sure what all that means, but I’m sure I’ll come up with something. Until then, I’m just going to take time to enjoy the view.
Statistically speaking, there are over 14 more births in the United States nowadays than their are deaths. Somehow when I hear someone has passed, I always hear soon thereafter of a birth, and I am reconciled to the notion that for every good soul that passes, another is born to take their place. Before you ask, no, I do not believe in reincarnation. I suspect it is my own way of dealing with a loss, my feelings of the loss, that makes me almost NEED to equate the two; something good to take the place, at least in my thoughts, of something bad. And so I seem to notice with other life/death/health related aspects that hit close to me. My dear sister in law receives the news one week that she is cancer free after being truly courageous through treatment; the following week I hear of a friend of my niece, young by the standards of many, who has received news that she is at the beginning of her cancer battle. I have personally battled a form of depression that manifested itself, among other ways, with hypochondriasis, the preoccupation with having a serious illness. I won’t bore you with the details, as that is not the point or this writing. As I came out of it, I would have been (and still am) ecstatic to live to the same age as my parents did, late sixties. I realize that is young by today’s standards but you need to keep in mind that at 45 I thought, with every waking moment, that I was a goner.
I won’t lie to you, sometimes I eat more than I should, most days, I don’t. Could I eat better? You betcha. I am overweight. I work out. Could I work out more? Absolutely. Should I? Again, absolutely. Would it make all that much difference? Probably not. My father was born in the early 1900’s, 1909 to be exact. He had none of his own teeth by the time I was born (or soon thereafter) in 1960. He had heart surgery several times in the 70’s. He made some major lifestyle choices early on that were not conducive to a long life. But how much of that was exacerbated by the fact that he was born shortly after the turn of the century? We’ll never know. The women on his side of the family lived into their 80’s and 90’s, so I have that going for me. The men were not so fortunate. Except for my mother, the women on her side of the family have lived into their 80’s. Another vote for me reaching AT LEAST my late 60’s goal. She also made some bad lifestyle choices early in her life that caused her to be taken before her time. I have not made either of the detrimental choices that my parents made. Technology is better today. I have to hope that the other things that contribute to longevity, or the lack thereof, are better today.
But I have reached a point that I must visit the dental hygienist four times per year vs. the regular two. The way the dentist put it last week, “Your body chemistry just loves to make plaque!”. I’m sure you all have heard the same commercials, infomercials, news and talk shows, etc. that I have and are all keenly aware of the connection between plaque on your teeth and plaque in your arteries. I can lose weight, eat all the right foods, exercise, visit the medical professionals regularly, heed their advice and directions, take prescribed medications to correct what the diet and exercise can’t, and still have a heart attack tomorrow. Some people’s chemistry is predisposed to generate on their own the risk factors. It happened just last weekend to one of our deputies; 30 years old, good shape, athletic, seemingly excellent health. Went to bed and never woke up. He had heart disease in his family, just like I do. And he wasn’t almost 50, overweight, high blood pressure, etc. Why did he go before me with all my seemingly ‘poor’ lifestyle choices? I cannot answer that.
I intend to do what I can to reduce my personal health risks, but there is only so much I can do. Genetics and good medical care will have something to say about it. The bottom line is, God will take me home when my time has come. I’d like to reach a few more of life’s milestones before He does but His will be done. In the meantime, genetics can pretty much suck.
Several weeks back I observed a smartly dressed woman somewhere out in the world wearing a dress with leggings underneath. I thought it unusual to see in California since it is usually not cold enough to have that need. I was impressed with the creativity in form and function to allow her to continue to wear her fall wardrobe with a minor modification for the untimely chill.
This morning I was running a bit late and had to switch from my planned outfit to something a bit more ‘light and breezy’. Let me say now that I don’t own a lot of cold weather clothes that are suitable for the workplace so I rotate through what I do have in a really short period of time. That should explain why all I had left to choose from was a more ’summery’ option. I should also add at this point that my newly acquired half slip had fallen upon an unusual circumstance last night and was not available for use this morning. Remembering the smartly dressed woman I spied a few weeks back, and having just returned from a long weekend at the cabin, I knew just where my long silk underwear was and decided to put them to use today. Something was lost in the translation between me thinking she looked chic in the way she put her outfit together and what I came up with. My long underwear is too long for my short legs so the pant legs slip down past the bottom of the hem of my skirt. The leggings did not, no matter how much I hoped they would, become a valid substitute for a slip.
I arrived at work and immediately gathered my ‘homies’ together in the kitchenette area to explain so I wouldn’t have to repeat the painful details of my morning over and over again each time an unsuspecting person noticed. I confess I was trying to muster support for the ‘laughing with me not at me’ theory. At this point in my day I’m foregoing any unnecessary trips out of my cubicle in a futile attempt to avoid further detection. An hour ago I rode up in the elevator with a co-worker who innocently enough asked “aren’t your legs cold?”. I was sure someone who I had announced my dilemma to earlier had put her up to asking me that. Not the case; it was an innocent attempt a small talk that I turned into a conspiracy. All this the day after I received word that my position was reclassified (in simple terms, I was promoted); a time when most people would act more professional, not less.
So basically I’m just a big ole’ dork who the good Lord blesses more than my fair share. Praise God for that; every day, in every way.
Picture forthcoming!
My husband woke me in the middle of a dream this morning to ask if I was okay.
We have just returned from a 2-week vacation to northeastern Montana and many, many points in between. We were blessed to share a few scrumptious evening meals at our friend Ann Ronning’s house in Bainville. After a soul-warming meal of pheasant and dumplings, I watched and listened as Ann explained to some of the other guests how she teaches her students to make marshmallow launchers out of PVC pipe.
This morning I dreamed about crafting a marshmallow launcher of my very own. I was testing various ‘blowing’ options to see which would make the marshmallow leave the plastic tube with the greatest force and thus, fly the longest distance possible. Was a quick, strong thrust of air the best method? Or was a steadily long but forceful blow better? I never did find out. My husband awoke me to find out if I was okay because I was ‘breathing funny’. I guess he never tested a marshmallow launcher of his own. J
Here’s what’s at the end of MINE You’ve gotta love it!
Blessings, S
(in no particular order)
1. Morning coffee dates
2. Bonine
3. C, G, H & T
4. Tejava at Trader Joe’s for $1.19/bottle vs. $1.95/bottle at Von’s (not to mention the ninety-nine cent carrrier that holds 6 (count ‘em, SIX) bottles of Tejava).
5. Easter Sunday
6. Fall back
7. May 22nd
8. ‘Love’ design postage stamps
9. lists
