Cinderella...

Yup. That's me. Can you believe there was only one google image of the pre-fairy godmother Cindy? When I say I feel like Cinderella, I'm thinking of the poor, exhausted girl at the beginning of the story. Complete with an evil step-sister. But that's a blog unto its own.

I'm so frazzled on Fridays. Totally fried. Seriously. New client with incredibly difficult software and very complicated biz. Love my client, but struggling to keep up. My ADD medicine wears off around the time I get to their office, so I'm transformed from an intelligent, competent professional into a blithering idiot. I think they're starting to doubt me. Today I had about 12 different manila files with scribbled, nonsensical labels, and the owner asked me what invoices needed to be paid. I started frantically flipping through the files, and could not even see what was in front of me. She stood and waited. I got more anxious. Finally I said, "Can I have a minute to regroup? It's here somewhere." Her cheeks got red (as in flustered, or worse, angry), and I felt like I was in trouble with the teacher.

I'm this way every week, but today was worse. I'd just sat through 2 hours of online software training with a doofus who was reading a script. I'm proud to say I stumped him a couple times. He said "Development is looking into that." Right...

The good news is that I figured out how to do some better reports. Turns out, the icons are tiny - you'd never notice them. He kept saying "These are small but we're trying to preserve real estate on the screen." I struggled to stop from blurting out, "How about preserving my eyesight??" On that note, I thought ahead to bring my glasses. I only need them to see the cards on the poker table and to wear under 3D glasses at the movie theater, but I knew there'd be several of us clumped around a monitor and figured I'd need them. The glasses helped, except they're bifocals and since I never wear them, I kept rolling my head around, trying to focus. Damn, now that I think about it, client probably thought I was strung out on LSD or something. Or whatever would make your head roll around. I'm not good with my street drugs. At least not yet. Gimme time.

I finally finished up everything that couldn't wait until Monday and packed up to go at 5:30. I told the owner that I was going to start coming at 10 a.m. as many mornings as I could - starting Monday. That I'd be much fresher in the morning. And that by working only two or three hours at a time, I'd be much more productive. I thanked her for her patience and promised her that by the end of next week, I'd have a system in place that would make sense. A good set of files, some forms and checklists, and whatever tools I need to get organized. I think I'll use colored folders. That always helps. She seemed relieved, so I left feeling better.

I decided to stop somewhere on the way home to get The D something for dinner. Bless his heart, he's gotta be sick of cabbage, veggies, salads, bran muffins, grapes, peaches, prunes and high fiber oatmeal. He was overdue for something fried and fiber-free. Time to give that Lipitor a run for its money.

I bellied up to the bar at Rafferty's. Asked for a menu and a beer. Was having trouble making decisions, but settled on the chicken tenders with a baked sweet potato. They brought me a huge beer. Turns out that draft is double the size of a bottle, for the same price. While I drank and waited, I checked my stocks. They had done very well that day - that always helps my mood. I had two that were up around 8% - un-fuckin-believable. My food came so I settled up and left.

I walked in the door at 6:30 with The D's meal in hand. He was waiting for me like a puppy. He usually eats around 5, so I was late. I whipped out his food and put it on his tray. He was happy as a clam. He liked my choices. He devoured it. Even said it was "good." Not "pretty good" or "all right", but "good".

Ok. Back to Cinderella. While I was sitting at the bar, the atmosphere was festive. People were starting their weekends. Meeting friends. Laughing and talking. I felt forlorn. My BFF Jessica was in Vegas on business, while I was stuck here. I didn't have time to stay and drink another one of those big, frosty draft beers. Just as well, empty stomach. No time for a DUI. As I left the cozy bar and headed into the dreary, dark, cold night, I thought of that sad Fogelberg song - Same Old Lang Syne.

And fought back the tears.

I'm Official!

UPS just brought my LLC checks. Complete with self-inking endorsement stamp and deposit slips. It just so happens that I ran across a nice little check today - the third one made payable to my LLC. Can't wait til EOM to do billing. Nice balance in biz acct, not counting forgotten check. Gotta figure out tax treatment for gtd pmts to ptrs v. cap distributions. I'm thinking since I didn't contribute any capital, I need to bite the bullet and pay SE tax. Can't have neg cap. Dammit - it's all so complicated...

Battery deader than a doorknob. D mad at me. What's new?

Gotta run. Way behind on Cramer and tonight's a new Grey's Anatomy...

My Sad Schedule

I thought I'd take a break from my very productive day and blog about my progress. I got a good solid four hours of heavy duty accounting work done for my biggest client, before noon, no less. That's good because I'm still catching up from the six weeks I missed while my mother was dying and then getting The D settled here with me. I have soooo much to do between now and April (I don't do taxes, but I have to get the info to my clients' CPA firms by the deadline). I don't want to have to extend any returns this year. Ok, I'm boring you now.

I stopped around 11:30 and fixed Daddy a good lunch - grilled ham & cheese sandwich, clam chowder, and of course, my magic elixer of celery, carrots and red bell peppers. Activia for dessert. You get my drift. Fiber, fiber, fiber... I asked him how it was and he said it was all right. In other words, it was swill.

Headed to my church client, which is just around the corner. Not a soul was there - every thing in this city shuts down when it snows. I had to turn off the alarm and luckily, I was successful. I hate it when I mess up and the alarm company calls and wants the secret word. I start spouting out words like Heaven, Bible, Jesus, Cross, Sin, Satan, Communion, Chalice... Finally, they say "It's ok" and the shrieking alarm stops. And I say "Hallelujah!" and they say "Bingo!"

Since no one was there, I cranked out my work sans interruption. Made a point of calling the treasurer to ask him if he had the report my least favorite staff member is responsible for. I needed it to close January books. My phone call served a dual purpose. It let the treasurer know that a) I was so dedicated that I made the treacherous 1/2 mile drive to pay bills and do month-end work, and b) that the aforementioned staff member hadn't given me her report. I was glad she hadn't because a) she looked like the jerk-off instead of me, and b) I got to leave earlier than I'd planned because I couldn't proceed without her report.

So far, so good, huh? Then I headed to the grocery store to stock up on milk, fruits and veggies, high-fiber oatmeal, and of course, beer. I was running dangerously low.

I got home and decided to try to jump Mother and Daddy's van which was sitting in my driveway with a dead battery. I just can't bring myself to drive it - so embarrassing. Not that my 10 year old Subaru is cool, but relatively speaking, I guess it is. It makes me look like an adventuress. I need to find a cheap kayak to strap on top. And stick on one of those cool bumper stickers.

Back to the battery. The jumper cables I keep in my car weren't there. There weren't any in the van, either. I asked The D about them and he was trying to tell me where they were. Something about opening something behind something. I asked him to come show me and he got mad and said, "It's too far to go all the way out there", meaning to their house. WTF good are jumper cables in your house? But at least he knew where they were, unlike me.

So I went over to my sweet neighbors'. Took the Lowe's gift card I've had for a month - a thank you for their help with getting Mother up and down the steps in her wheelchair the day before I took her to the hospital for the last time. I take great comfort in knowing that Mother and Daddy spent their last night together in the same bed at my house. And had their last meal together. Mother loved my chicken spaghetti - I made it very plain for her - she was a picky eater. She even asked for seconds. But when it was time for bed, Daddy and I had to carry her. Her knees were buckling. My strong, fiercely independent mother cried in my arms. Said she didn't want to be a burden. I reminded her of all the shitty diapers she'd changed. And told her that she wasn't a burden. And that she shouldn't worry. I'd take care of her and The D. And that I loved her so much. It broke my heart.

Back to the battery. Wonderful neighbor brought his battery charger. The D jumped in the van and started trying to crank it. I was afraid it would blow up. Neighbor said it wouldn't hurt anything. Hopefully, the charger will do the trick. We'll see. Not holding my breath. But D will be mad at me if it doesn't work.

Now something good. I sat down to check my stocks and even though the indexes were down, my stocks were up. Proof that I'm a contrarian. And that I've been damn lucky - I mean smart - lately.

Better get back to it. I've only worked 6 hours today (billable, anyway), and meetings and deadlines are looming...

Routines

Anyone who knows me can tell you that I'm the most scattered, disorganized person in the whole wide world. For years and years, my New Year's Resolutions included, front and center, "Get Organized!" Two New Year's Eves ago, I decided to try something different. I had only one 2010 resolution. To have fun. To do things a kid would do. Like going to the playground. I still can't do a chin-up, but I can make it all the way across the ladder on the monkey bars. Talk about an upper body workout. I found that it's impossible to swing without smiling. I felt weightless. Like I was seven years old. It was a major workout for my legs. I resisted the urge to jump out at the top of my forward swing. Didn't want to sprain my ankle. I slid down the slide. Tried to walk the balance bar, without succes.

You should try it sometime. It's an instant mood lifter, and I promise, you'll work some muscle groups no other form of exercise can touch. So you'll be sore the next day.

I have a great idea about starting a playground workout group. Wouldn't that be fun? Way more than the boot camp thing I used to do. It happened to be on a playground and I would hit the swingset if I got there early. Too bad, no one ever joined me. I'm sure they thought I was strange, but I try not to worry about what other people think. IDGAF. Look it up - it's Urban Dictionary's word (in this case, acronym) of the day. Or JFGI.

Except parents of kids who were competing for my spot on the playground equipment. Of course, I always let the children go first. I was happy to find the parents weren't worried that I was a pedophile. It's probably an advantage to be a woman.

Skipped rope. Did the hula hoop. Talk about using your abs! I even put my hair in pigtails and danced around the den to Kelly Clarkson blasting on the stereo, complete with a hairbrush for my microphone. I was a little embarrassed when my teenaged son walked in and saw me.

I rode my bike for the first time in ten years. But unlike a kid, I fell off about every third time. And learned that you shouldn't ride your bike with a beer buzz. That time I fell off three times before I got to the end of my street. Walked my bike back home.

That reminds me. When the Greenline first opened this summer, I was a regular. Unfortunately, one day I was texting and riding (but I was completely sober). A Lance Armstrong wanna-be came up behind me, and it startled me and I swerved and hit the gravel on the edge of the path. Hint: gravel and bicycle tires don't mix. Or texting and riding. I flew off my bike and did a face plant on the asphalt. Thank god it wasn't concrete. It was a hot day, too, and the asphalt was probably softer from the heat. I didn't even have time to put my hands in front of me. Hit chin first, and then my right shoulder and my left knee. But I was most concerned about my phone. It was fine. After I retrieved it, I realize that I was bloody. Lance asked me if I was ok, and I said I wasn't sure. My chin was dripping blood. He said, "Don't worry, it'll just be a strawberry." Then he took off. What a mensch.

Mainly, I was glad my teeth were intact. Teeth are extremely important to me. My nose was sore. Later on, I noticed that the front of my helmet was scraped. Public Service Announcement - DO NOT ride your bike without a helmet. And be sure it's firmly on your head and is in the right position so your forehead is protected.

I decided to turn around and ride home when I realized the front of my bike was at a 30 degree angle to the seat and rear. I tried to twist it into alignment, but it didn't budge. I tried to ride it, but you can guess how that worked. I was standing there, bloody and stunned, fighting back tears, and trying to figure out how I would get home. Along came a sweet family and they stopped to help. The superhuman dad grabbed my handlebars and twisted them back in line with the rest of my bike. I thanked him profusely and when they rode off, I said, to no one in particular, "Screw you, Lance idiot." And managed to ride home without falling again.

Once again, I've digressed. And since I'm trying to stick to a schedule (hence the title of this post), I should close. I'll try to write more later. My intent was to talk about how The D follows a very regular routine and how I think I'll give it a try. I was up at 5:20, showered and dressed and at my desk by 6:00. But now I'm 20 minutes past the hour I allotted for blogging. Maybe this schedule thing isn't such a great idea. Now, on with the rest of my day...

Crap!

No, this is not another poop update. "Crap" was the first word to leave my mouth this morning. I woke up with a start at 6:30 and remembered that The D told me yesterday that we were out of coffee. I jumped up to run to the grocery store, but I looked out the window and saw three inches of snow and thought better of it. I'd have gone anyway, but there's a treacherous overpass between my house and the little grocery store half a mile away. I couldn't run to Kroger (no hills or bridges) because every single fuckin' time I go to Kroger without makeup, I see someone I know and they tell me I look "tired."

So I searched the kitchen high and low, hoping I'd find some ancient little vacuum-packed thing of a Christmas themed coffee. No luck. I remembered two little individul packs of Nescafe instant coffee. Sigh of relief. Is that stuff even real coffee? Just then, I looked out the kitchen window and there was NO snow! Power of suggestion, I suppose. Maybe my bad eyesight, too?

So I threw on some sweats and my down coat and ran to the little grocery store. Put my hood up to cover major bed-head. But I never see anyone I know there, so no biggie. Ran to coffee aisle. First time in my life I've ever gone to the grocery store to buy one thing and left with just one thing.

Got home. Had text from housekeeper that she was coming early to beat the weather. Thank god - the kitchen was a wreck.

Got my butt in gear and headed to client's office. Accomplished top priorities around the time the blizzard started. There's nothing that can't wait until my regular Friday session. Thank goodness for technology - so much I can do from home. Ran by my parents' house to check on painting progress. Headed home around 1:15. Took me 30 minutes instead of usual 15. Not bad considering roads and traffic. Glad I was going against traffic. Still slid more than once. Would've wiped out if not for all wheel drive, anti-lock brakes and the presence of mind to downshift (yes, I drive a stick-shift - only because men find it sexy.) Truth about manual transmission. It was cool when I was a new college graduate. I love to be different. Plus, they're cheaper, safer and more fuel-efficient. So it's just a happy accident that men find it sexy. Won't even think about the reasons for that.

Sweet thing. I got in and Daddy ran to the door. Happy to see me. He told me he'd just fixed some... I guessed - hot chocolate? He said yes, and asked if I wanted him to fix some for me. Wow. It's like I said earlier - he shows his love with his actions. I felt so loved. It was a beautiful moment. I noticed the mailman, and I told him not to go to the mailbox because if he fell, I couldn't get him to the hospital. I put on my hiking boots, and when I headed out the door to get the mail, he told me to be careful on the steps.

So here I sit. Happily blogging. Watching the snow fall and glad to be in for the duration. Comforted by knowing The D is happy. Missing mother but feeling her presence and love. Certain that she's very proud of me...

Great New Ideas

I followed through on last Thursday's brilliant idea. I took The D to the senior center today. In time for lunch. Ham, lima beans, cornbread, greens, salad and peach cobbler. He said it was "pretty good". Translation: very good.

I hung around, harrassing Betsy, the volunteer receptionist - my new best friend. She's hilarious. Gotta love any lady who cusses like a sailor! Then the activities director, a huge guy with a great sense of humor, came up behind me and put me in a chokehold. He said, "When was the last time anyone put you in a headlock?" I said, "The last time I kneed someone in the groin." I proceeded to do the twisting maneuver involving my elbow in his ribs. I learned it in the one and only self defense class I've ever attended. I stopped short of the knee action. But in the process, I hit my hand on the corner of the desk. It resulted in an instant bruise and some blood. I told him if I get MRSA, I'll sue his ass off. He ran to get a bandaid. Why does no one take me seriously when I threaten to sue them?

I think he likes me. He seems to forget all the old people when I'm around and kinda hovers. He was very sweet, though, and walked the mile path with The D.

Daddy seemed fine with staying, so I headed home to work. On my way to pick him up, I stopped at Fresh Market. Outrageously expensive but outrageously good. I bought a salmon burger, banana nut bread, dried okra, and best of all, Tropical Shrimp and Mango Salad.

Luckily, Daddy's not a picky eater. The shrimp salad had this amazing asian-tasting dressing with a vinegar-peanut flavor. Yum. He liked the salmon burger. I gave him leftover greens and crowder peas. And of course, celery, carrots and red bell peppers! Fresh Market banana nut bread and grapes for dessert.

I told him to eat the bran muffins I bought for breakfast. Then I asked him if he'd gone #2 today. He said he had. I hate to admit how happy that makes me.

Which reminds me of the toddler angle. On the way to pick him up at the senior center, I drove past my kiddo's school - he went there from 3K to 6th grade. I remembered how sweet it was when he was three years old. When I got there, his face lit up and he ran and jumped into my arms. By middle school, of course, he looked embarrassed when I arrived. The D didn't run and jump into my arms, but he didn't look embarrassed either.

I spent the next 45 minutes harrassing Betsy, the volunteer receptionist. Activities guy appeared. Sweet couple was there, asking about the programs - they were thinking of joining. They had an eastern European accent. Betsy asked where they hailed from. They didn't know what she meant at first. I said, "Wait, let us guess!" Betsy said Russia. Wrong. I said Czech Republic. No. They gave a few hints, and I was about to give up when somewhere from the deep recessive parts of my quickly deteriorating brain, Poland appeared. I blurted it out. Bingo!

I started asking questions, and the answers were incredibly, unbelievably fascinating. The husband, Jerry, was in the Polish Underground during WWII. He'd helped many people escape and hide. They had many Jewish friends and even though he didn't say it, I'm sure he risked life and limb by being part of the resistance. His wife, Ruth, had been sent to a work camp. And was in a small minority of survivors. They came to America after the war. Buffalo. He was a dentist. They came to Memphis in 1962 when St. Jude opened. He was one of the first doctors on staff. His last job before retiring was professor of dentistry at UT Memphis. 88 years old. In such amazing shape. Brilliant, with piercing blue eyes. Charming. His wife was so funny. We laughed and laughed. She gave him hell and it was clear they not only loved each other, but after 60 years of marriage, they actually liked each other. Gotta love that.

I love, love, love making new friends. And somehow, I felt an instant affinity for Ruth. She reminded me of my mother in ways I can't define. I'm going to ask them to dinner soon. They live near me. Lovely, dear people.

I'm so happy with my great ideas. The D really liked the center and it took care of lunch. Splurging on Fresh Market food took care of dinner. And with the money I'm saving on help, the Fresh Market thing is worth every penny.

I want to join the senior center, but Betsy tells me I'm too young. I pounded my fist on the counter and said, "By God, I'm a taxpayer and this is age discrimination! I'll sue you and the city!" She gave me a look that clearly said "Fuck you, Bitch." I love her for that...

Pills...

Daddy brought me his empty pill box last night. When I walked through the kitchen this morning, I remembered that I need to fill it. I bought new ones last week. Easier to use.

Only problem is that the old ones used blue covers for night and red for morning. This morning, when I was loading the new ones, I realized that the blue ones said A.M. and the red ones said P.M. When I filled them last week, I put them in backwards. Oh, shit. The D was still asleep so I couldn't ask him if he'd taken them backwards, too. I started loading them and put the pills in according to the labels instead of the colors. Then halfway through, I decided to switch to the colors, because I was getting confused. For me, color coding is the best way to organize things, like my files. Somehow I can't always read the labels, but I can remember colors. A different color for each client. Plus, I figured Daddy had gone by the colors, too. I finished them up and changed the labels with a sharpie.

When The D got up, I asked him how he'd been taking them. Big sigh of relief when he said the took them based on which pills were in each one - lots more night ones than morning. He's got it going on. Thank heavens. I don't...