Insert Pithy Title Here

It's not midnight here yet!

2009-06-22T23:22:00.001-05:00

And I didn't forget. It's still June 22nd.

Happy birthday!

You know who you are.

My car, the archaeological dig

2009-06-18T22:35:00.004-05:00

Today, I waved goodbye to the car I've had since March 2, 2001. The best car I've ever had. The car I'd had longer than all three of my previous cars combined, the car that needed under $2,000 in repairs over the course of the 8+ years I drove her. My Victoria. I cried all the way home, and then some.

She practically fell into my lap. I knew I wanted a Lumina - my mom had one and loved it, as did a few of her coworkers. My credit union preapproved me for a loan, provided the car fell into their acceptable range of model years. I was on a mission. I saw an ad in the paper, "Two Luminas New to Our Stock!" I called, and the price was right. Away we went to the small-town dealer.

I remember the test drive like it was yesterday. Prior to Victoria coming into my life, I'd had a few clunkers, and driving her for the first time, I felt like I'd entered The Promised Land. Black! Shiny! Classy! Holy crap, I'm a grownup! Driving down a back country highway, I looked over at the passenger side of the dash, saw the woodgrain trim and thought "I canNOT believe this is going to be my car!" I don't know what it was about the trim, but it wasn't anything that had been part of the "decor" of my previous vehicles. A couple of hours (and a trip back to the credit union for the check) later, she was mine.

Despite the fact that I'd lived with my then-boyfriend (now husband) for almost 3 years, this car was what finally made me feel like a grownup. I joked that driving a black sedan almost made me feel like I'd joined the mafia, but in reality, I finally just felt. Like. An adult. Victoria allowed me to get a real! decently paying! job in the Golden City at the End of the Highway, rather than toiling away for under $18K a year as a secretary at what was supposedly one of the highest-paying employers in the town (highest-paying doesn't mean crap at $8.45 an hour). A round trip to Madison - the west side, no less - just would not have possible in my previous vehicle. So I was driving a grownup car, making a grown-up wage at a grown-up job. Sure, there would be hardships in my future, but I was Going Somewhere.

When I cleaned her out for the final time this afternoon, I was reminded of just how much Living I'd done in that car. My cars sometimes double as mobile storage devices. If something's okay in the car, and I have no need for it to be in the house, it tends to stay in the car. In the glove compartment were a postcard I bought when we road-tripped to NY 3 weeks after 9/11, some silver rings I used to wear when I was in my "ring on as many fingers as I can" phase and a smushed penny from Navy Pier that I got when I went to visit a friend to whom I haven't spoken in 6 years. In the seat pockets behind the front seat, along with an atlas, were a couple of long-forgotten DVDs I'd won in some contest when I worked for the cable company. In the trunk was a leftover box of stuff from when I cleaned out my desk the day I left the cable company, AND a leftover bag of stuff from when I cleaned out my desk when I left the insurance company. Also in the trunk, I found some training materials from the company I work for now, but the materials were from the first time I worked there. I also found a silver plastic tray I'd used for food presentation during a bridal shower for a friend whose divorce was finalized 10 days ago.

And of course, the floral bead that's hung from the rearview mirror in every car I've owned.

All this history, and I sit here wondering why my eyes are puffy, my nose is red and I have a splitting headache, 9 hours after I saw her for the last time.

Thanks for the memories, Victoria. You were the best car I could have ever asked for.

Not sure this makes sense...

2009-04-16T16:40:00.003-05:00

With so much attention focused on United Airlines' new policy requiring obese people to pay for two seats, I felt the need to weigh in (pun fully intended).

There's a reason I fly Midwest. Yes, a reason other than the fact that they offer several non-stop flights on a MKE-LGA route. Yes, other than the faboo chocolate chip cookies. My ass fits in the seats. It wouldn't if I flew any other airline, unless I paid many times the price to fly first class. If I take up two seats, I can see the need for me to purchase two seats.

I like Southwest's way of doing it - if the flight is not full, your second seat is refunded. That makes sense to me, because you could have just used one of the extra (empty) seats as your second seat. I've seen people use empty seats as workstations, purse holders, etc., with no extra charge, so why not a butt holder? ;)

The one thing that doesn't make sense to me about Southwest's policy is this: if two obese people are traveling together, they are each required to purchase an additional seat, despite the fact that except in the most extreme circumstances, they can sit side-by-side in the 3-seat block with the armrests up. The Q&A on their website lists the reason as "open seating cannot guarantee that there will be an entire row open for two Customers to sit together and share the middle seat on each leg of the trip." So then how do they know that with open seating, there will be two seats together for a "customer of size" traveling solo? Their answer to that question is "The Customer who has purchased two seats must be an active participant in preserving his/her additional seat. We encourage Customers of size to preboard to locate adequate seating..." So why exactly is it that two customers of size traveling together couldn't preboard so they could find 3 seats together?

Anyway, back to the original issue. If my body is larger than one seat, I don't have a problem paying a second fare. I'd be more comfortable anyway. The last time I was on a non-Midwest flight, I was incredibly uncomfortable, and highly embarassed - it's embarassing enough to have to ask for an extender (though I've gotten less embarassed about it as time has gone by - I mean, really, I'm not fooling anyone, so I doubt anyone is exactly floored when I ask). I'm uncomfortable enough as it is, anyway - the last time I flew, the woman sitting next to me texted a colleague not even 2 minutes after I sat down about how her greatest fear had been realized because she had this giant fat lady sitting next to her - and since it was Midwest, I didn't even come close to "spilling over into her seat," as some would put it (yes, I saw it. Yes, I'm nosy. So if you don't want the giant fat lady sitting next to you on your next flight to lean over and tell you to get over yourself because you're not so fabulous either, then don't bitch about her right in front of her face).

Now, if only I could get a refund when there's some free-footed toddler "invading my space" by kicking the back of my seat for the entire flight, that would be some progress.

Cardstock, you've ruined my plans!

2009-03-16T23:39:00.002-05:00

Now that I've made good on the reason I spent pretty much zero dollars on scrapbooking supplies over the last 14 months or so, I decided I could buy a few little things on a recent trip to the store.

I got a couple of 4x6 cardstock mat stacks, with the intention of folding each sheet in half and making them into tiny little note cards - for a quick hello or thank you, for when you don't really have anything else to say.

As anyone who's worked for a printer or done a lot of paper crafting can probably tell you, there is a right way and a wrong way to fold paper. The fibers in a sheet of paper run in one direction, and if you fold across the fibers rather than with them, you'll get that funny, ripped-looking edge to your fold. Unfortunately, the only logical way to fold these pieces of cardstock is across the fibers. It's not pretty.

*sigh* Now I have to figure out what else I can do with them. I'm sure I'll come up with something, but I'm pretty disappointed.

Crankiness DEFIITELY unwarranted

2009-03-04T10:18:00.002-06:00

In my last post, I talked about having to call my insurance company.

I think my phone has actually morphed into a giant Easy Button since then. After we got through the pleasantries, like the subscriber number and the date of service, my conversation with the claims rep went something like this:

Me: "Well, my policy has a $100.00 ER co-pay and no co-pay on labs, and I was looking at this EOB, and..."

Claims Rep: "WHOA!"

Me: "yeah, that's not right, is it?"

Claims Rep: "No, it's definitely not. But it's an easy fix! We'll get on it right away, and notify the hospital, too."

Other words were exchanged as well, but that's the gist of it. They didn't have a long hold time, either. Including dialing, IVR greeting, navigating the IVR, hold time and talking to the claims rep, my total time invested in this was probably less time than it took to write this post.

Hooray!

At least there's a 50% chance this will be easy

2009-02-25T08:37:00.002-06:00

There was an ER visit in the Pithy Title household last month (don't worry, we're all fine). Our health insurance carries a $100 ER copay and a $0 copay for lab work. So, imagine my surprise when I opened the hospital bill to see a balance of over $1300 staring me in the face.

Luckily, the insurance company's explanation of benefits arrived the same day as the bill. Seems that rather than applying the $100 copay to the entire visit, they applied a $100 copay to each line item, including all the labs.

Their claims department isn't open when I get home from work, so of course the one day this week I've managed to haul my sorry butt out of bed early enough to deal with it before work, I get the following message:

"You've reached the answering service for the claims department at XYZ Insurance. The call center will be in a staff meeting until 10:00 this morning. Please try your call again later."

headdesk
headdesk
headdesk

I've had this insurance company before, and they were nothing less than wonderful the first time around, so I'm hoping this will be easy, and that my current crankiness is unwarranted.

Teh dumb. I haz it.

2009-02-07T16:23:00.002-06:00

We have a bakery here in town called The Silly Yak Bakery. They bake up mounds of gluten-free goods.

I seriously thought they just decided to give it a cutesy name.

Today, it finally dawned on me that Silly Yak sounds an awful lot like Celiac.

*forehead slap*

Sometimes, it just hits you

2009-01-24T15:08:00.002-06:00

Lately, I've found myself eschewing the jewelry section at Target in favor of fun, handcrafted earrings on Etsy and Artfire. The ones that draw me in the most are made with pretty glass or gemstone beads, and I only just realized why. See this?:

It's a lamp bead, very similar in both shape and color to the beads that hung from the lamps in my Grandmother's living room. In my Etsy travels today, I came across a pair of earrings made with beads that exact color, and the memory of being 8 years old and thinking the lamp beads would be awesome earrings came flooding back.

And while I'm at it, here are the links to my favorite jewelry artisan's Etsy and Artfire pages. Check her out!

This. Very this.

2009-01-12T21:08:00.001-06:00

Nobody told me it was a MEAL!!!

2009-01-04T17:59:00.003-06:00

As I've come to realize is often our M.O. on Sunday, we eat at least one meal outside the home. This is fine with me, because Sundays are fairly lazy around here, and it's often our only meal. Today was no exception. We were originally going to go to Lombardino's, but in an effort to 1) be somewhat fiscally responsible and 2) actually get something done around the house, we opted for something cheaper and closer to home.

We chose poorly.

Or, rather, the choice of restaurant was fine - we just made poor choices once we got there. Delicious choices, but bad for productivity. And too many choices for it to qualify as fiscally responsible.

We went to Laredo's. Now, don't get me wrong. I loooooooove Laredo's. I've been on a "______ + chips" kick lately, and any Mexican place worth its margarita salt will defnitely be able to satisfy that. However, I wish someone - anyone - would have warned me that my soup was not really soup. It was a meal in itself.

The menu currently up on their MenuPix page doesn't list the Sopa de Mi Cocina. I believe the menu at the restaurant itself described it as chicken, shrimp, pico de gallo and avocado in broth, or something like that. There is nothing on that list I don't like. What the menu conveniently neglected to mention - which for the $8.95 price tag, I probably should have been able to figure out - is that they take a bowl roughly the size of one of those oversized coffee mugs (you know, the kind you usually use for soup anyway) and fill it about 3/4 of the way with shredded chicken, put a generous portion of pico de gallo on top of that, pour in enough (delightfully flavorful) broth so that it comes to the top of the chicken, then garnish it with 5 or 6 perfectly grilled shrimp and 4 large chunks of avocado.

It. Was. Heavenly. To paraphrase the ubiquitous "young ditzy female" judge from the original Iron Chef, it made my mouth incredibly happy.

Coupled with the chips and salsa, I was so full once I finished the soup that I didn't even look at my entree.

As for fiscal responsibility, that's something we struggle with when we go out to eat. To illustrate, I would have been fine eating that soup and nothing else. Bryan would have been fine with the appetizer he ordered and nothing else. Had we ordered just those two things and stuck with water for a beverage, we would have been out of there for just a little over $20, including a 20% tip. But no, we each also ordered an entree, I just had to have one of their specialty margaritas and Bryan had dos Coronas, so with tip, we spent 3x what we really had to. I suppose it's just as well, because we'll each easily get two additional meals from our entrees.

But oh my God the soup...

Radio's apology

2009-01-02T18:28:00.002-06:00

We've all had those moments - the ones where you're happily driving along, flipping stations on the radio, only to catch the very tail end of a song you'd love to hear in its entirety. It happened to me this morning on the way to work, as I caught just barely enough of the end of Salisbury Hill to even know it was Salisbury Hill.

This afternoon, the radio had another "gotcha" moment, then apologized. There I was again, flipping stations when I caught a station just as it was fading out Send Me on My Way. I started to curse the day's rotten radio luck, when I realized that Send Me on My Way was fading into...

Salisbury Hill.

Then when that was over, I happened across TripleM's Friday Phish Fry.

And once again, all is well with my radio universe.

My addiction

2008-12-26T21:54:00.006-06:00

On one of my boards, someone recently asked the question "what is your favorite perfume?" Most of the wonderful women there answered with one or two fragrances, with a few women stating that they don't care for perfume at all.

Me?

Ever since I bought my very first bottle of perfume*, I have been a fragrance junkie. I adore scented lotions, sprays and body washes. And it never ceases to amaze me how strong my scent association can be. Last year, I bought a case of conditioner I'd loved during my college days but had since been discontinued (Revlon Outrageous), because that's how much I love the scent. I lived with my grandmother while in college, and every morning I use this conditioner, I am transported to the upstairs bathroom at her house - the sunny, 1960s pink-tiled oasis** with the southeast-facing window where I got ready for class every day for 4 years.

*Fuzzy Peach from The Body Shop, which was purchased on a field trip to South Street Seaport - to this day, I'm still nostalgic for South Street Seaport and The Body Shop.

**Here's a pic to give you an idea - this isn't a pic of the actual bathroom, but it's the exact floor tile.

I mentioned in my reply that at any given point in time, I probably have at least 15 different fragrances hanging around the house. A few are in heavier rotation than others, and I am prone to going on kicks. Right now, I'm on a White Musk kick (another Body Shop scent), having worn it almost exclusively for at least two months. And while I do enjoy some of the more expensive scents, I do own quite a few inexpensive ones as well - I don't exactly have the budget to feed my addiction exclusively with designer fragrances.

My post got me thinking, and I became curious enough to take an inventory. I'll preface the inventory by saying that some of the more expensive ones either came heavily discounted from TJ Maxx, or are tiny bottles, the size you pick up for 10 or 15 bucks at Walgreens when you know you like it but don't have the 50 bucks to buy the full-size at Macy*s.

Seven scents from Bath and Body Works alone: Rice Flower & Shea, Japanese Cherry Blossom, Sweet Pea, Sensual Amber, Mandarin Mango, Warm Vanilla Sugar and Moonlight Path (a few of these came in a variety gift pack I got for free when I bought my mother-in-law her favorite for Christmas last year, but I enjoy each of them)
The aforementioned White Musk
Diamonds & Emeralds
Jessica McClintock (this was my Grandma's favorite - I wear it when I'm particularly missing her, including every day for about a year after she passed)
Narcisse
ici
Colors
Burberry Brit
A couple of ancient, discontinued Avon scents that I wear once in a blue moon (Dreamlife and Little Black Dress)
A purse-sized spray tube of a Glow by J. Lo. knockoff (received as a stocking stuffer in a work exchange, but shoot me now, I actually DO like it).
My most recent purchase, Covet by Sarah Jessica Parker.

However, the one that is a constant and has been since the first time I smelled it is Trésor by Lancôme. No matter what else I have in my stinky arsenal, Trésor is always there in one way, shape or form.

There was once a part of me that wanted to be that person that people are reminded of upon smelling a certain perfume, but I love fragrance far too much to stick with just one. Bryan didn't like Trésor at first, but he says it grew on him, because it smells like, well, me. But I wear a ton of other stuff, too.

And for the edification of nobody in particular, but I feel it must be said - I am NOT one of those people who bathes in it. I may HAVE a lot of it, but it's used courteously.

All that having been said, it now occurs to me that I need to find some new fragrances. Some of the ones I listed - actually, most of the ones I listed - are now only available on internet fragrance outlet websites. Maybe I should find some new fragrances I can actually get in stores, huh? Ah well... just another excuse to add to my collection.

shakes head

2008-12-15T21:38:00.002-06:00

With news stories like these, how can anyone still believe homosexuality is a choice? When a pair of gay penguins are the best parents in the zoo...

Not sure how to put this into words, but I'll try

2008-12-10T21:24:00.004-06:00

I just watched a Momversation video on whether online friends are as important as "IRL" friends.

My response is an emphatic YES, but somehow, that just doesn't do it justice.

First off, my closest, most important, best best BEST friend EVER is someone I met online. Most people would, of course, consider this person very much an IRL friend at this point, because hey, I married him, and really, what's more IRL than that?

And could I possibly have used more commas in that incredibly run-on sentence? That's what I get for blogging as though I'm speaking and not as though I'm writing a thesis.

But anyway...

I can honestly say that I would not be the person I am today if not for the internet. My parents didn't have a lot of friends while I was growing up. I'm sure they had a lot of "friendly acquaintances," as Alice from finslippy referred to them in the Momversation, but there wasn't a whole lot of socialization. How much of it can be attributed to the fact that they worked opposite shifts, how much of it can be attributed to my mom's extreme insecurity, shyness and homebodyness and how much of it can be attributed to the fact that we really didn't have a lot of money... I'll never know what the percentages were. But the bottom line is that my parents didn't exactly set any examples for us in regard to making and keeping good, solid, lasting friendships. As a result, I was quiet and shy - being the fat, four-eyed nerd didn't help, but I've known plenty of people who were either fat or four-eyed or both, who managed to be quite popular. Not me. I just didn't know how to be that person. The one who made friends easily. The one who was unafraid to be myself for fear of losing what few friendships I had. To this day, I can be very outspoken, but typically only with the people with whom I feel exceedingly comfortable. On the inside, I can still be the quiet, shy little girl, scared to disagree with a friend for fear that they won't be a friend anymore. The internet has helped with that quite a bit, because as I've gotten more and more used to being myself online, I'd be lying if I said that it hasn't spilled over into my real life interactions. Not to mention the fact that I've met quite a few of my online friends in real life, and interacting with them the way I do online has gotten me more and more used to actually - gasp! - being myself IRL.

I'm a classic illustration of the socially awkward child who didn't blossom until they found the fertilizer that is the internet. My parents have never been early adopters. I was in junior high by the time we got our first microwave and our first VCR. They only got cell phones about 2 years ago. My mom still records her soap opera on a VCR, and the last time she came to visit, I don't think she really ever got the hang of the DVR remote. But when we got our first computer... back in the golden month of December 1997 (!), a whole new world opened up to me. I started visiting chat rooms - places where I could be myself. The person who wasn't fat and insecure and quiet and shy. The person who could say what she felt, because if the people there decided they didn't like her, she could always find a new place to go, somewhere she'd never have to "see" or talk to them again. Real life just doesn't always work that way, and let me tell you, that was the most liberating feeling EVER. I conversed with all sorts of people, all over the country.

That computer allowed me to begin the process of becoming the person that my insecurities about face-to-face interaction never could. It allowed me to start the process of becoming... me.

Within 11 weeks, I'd met the person with whom I'd spend the rest of my life. It didn't stop there though - I loved the newfound freedom anonymity brought, and I continued for many many years - and still continue - to delight in being myself and making new friends, both online and off.

Within a year, I'd moved halfway across the country.

Within two years, I'd found two wonderful groups of women, both on iVillage, on completely separate boards. I still converse with the core group from one of them on an almost-daily basis. Some of them are now internet-famous in their own rights, and I couldn't be more proud. *sniff* The other group, I still have no idea how I found these wonderful women. The first group was geared toward women my age, but the other board was a debate board in one of the iVillage parenting communities. I'm not a parent and I suck at debate - but I was fascinated by the board and the wealth of knowledge and ideas (and nipple forks and Golden Vaginas and Buckley Manifestos). I still suck at debating, but many of us have stuck together through 3 or 4 (or more?) board moves. While I don't post much on that board, I read it every day. I know I'm there, many of them know I'm there, and I'm now friends with a bunch of them on Facebook (and I know there are more, but I'm having trouble putting IRL names with screen names), so we're definitely in touch.

Within four years, I was introduced - by my husband - to yet another group of fabulous people. Ironically enough, I now participate on that board more than he does, and I'm now one of the admins.

I've even reconnected with people I knew years ago, but somehow lost along the way.

And most recently, through the magic of local blogs and online communities, I've started to converse with people who actually live nearby, as well - two of whom I'll be meeting on Monday, one of whom I recently found out is one of my new coworkers, some of whom I eventually hope to meet.

All of the wonderful people I've met, all of the wonderful people I have yet to meet... all in some way have helped shape who I am today.

So yes, my online friends are just as important, just as life-affirming, just as dear to me as my "IRL" friends.

And after all that, I still don't feel like I've done my YES answer justice. But hopefully I've provided at least some perspective.

This made me smile

2008-12-04T23:11:00.000-06:00

Happy Gobble Gobble!

2008-11-27T10:31:00.002-06:00

Because I can't possibly top it, please enjoy what I feel to be the best Thanksgiving blog post ever.

Channeling Emily Litella

2008-11-24T19:43:00.003-06:00

Those of you who are among my Facebook friends and who follow me on Twitter already have an overview, so feel free to skip...

Opportunity found time to stop by after all.

The story begins Thursday the 13th. I got a call from a company I worked for back in the day. Seems they had a position open for which I'd be perfect. Still had to go through the normal application/hiring process though.

I had a phone interview Friday afternoon, during which they scheduled me for a face-to-face for Tuesday the 18th. The face-to-face was seriously the best interview I'd had in my working career. The supervisor and I got along great, and I aced the mock sales call he had me do (I hadn't sold anything in a year and a half, and I amazed even myself with how quickly everything came back). He's even originally from NYC, so we gave each other crap about baseball for a little bit (he's a die-hard Yankees fan). I left the building feeling on top of the world, very confident in getting a positive phone call later in the week.

Two days later, Thursday the 20th, I had the rug pulled out from under me - the company is extremely committed to hiring from within (which I knew), and while I was the strongest external candidate, they had to go with qualified internal candidates first. They had enough qualified internal candidates to fill the open slots, and I was turned down.

I cannot express what a blow that was. My jaw practically hit the desk when the recruiter told me, and she actually sounded apologetic. There was, however, another job open for which I'd be a good fit, for which she was also the recruiter. She told me she'd be speaking with the hiring supervisor and would call me the following week (Thanksgiving week), most likely to set up an interview.

I wasn't feeling well on Monday the 24th, and stayed home from work. I actually slept until almost 2:00. Not even 5 minutes after I woke up, the phone rang - it was the recruiter. She said she wanted to touch base regarding the other position, then said "there's been an interesting development with the original position." One of the internal candidates to whom they'd offered the position declined, leaving a slot open for me! She gave me the choice of taking this position, or waiting to see about the other.

Now, this is a company I never wanted to leave in the first place. Some of you may remember it as a job I enjoyed, but left after 2.5 years because it was a 110-mile round-trip commute - at $60 a week and rising (not to mention the 550 miles of wear and tear on my car, preventive maintenance, etc), my commuting expenses were becoming prohibitive. We now live 8 miles from the building, so the commute situation is infinitely better. The pay is great, the benefits are awesome, the company is stable (made it into the Fortune 500 this year and steadily growing). Of course I took the sure thing.

And in a fun little bit of serendipity... when I worked there previously, there was an apartment complex facing a highway I traveled during my commute displaying a huge banner that said "If you lived here, you'd be home now." I frequently cursed that banner, knowing that once I passed it I'd still have at least another 45 minutes to go before I got home. The banner is still there. And home? Same exit as that complex. :)

Quote of the Day

2008-11-22T09:32:00.000-06:00

As seen on one of my message boards:

Heck, bail me out. It won't even cost you 6 digits.....

Amen.

Opportunity had too much going on at home to knock now, may stop by later.

2008-11-20T15:48:00.003-06:00

I just got the call.

The recruiter softened the blow by telling me that they really wanted me but since the company is committed to promoting from within, they had to go with internal folks. She said the hiring supervisor thought the interview was fantastic, that I was definitely one of their strongest candidates, that I would have been an awesome fit, but that they had more internal candidates than they had open positions.

But no matter how powerful the softener, the words "we've decided to move forward with other candidates" still sting.

Fear not, however - there is light at the end of the tunnel that is decidedly NOT an oncoming train. There is another position open for which she'd like to consider me, and may be giving me a call next week.

I may have had the rug pulled out from under me today, but I'll just put on some slipper socks and soldier on.

Fingers crossed!

Interesting CNN Quick Vote

2008-11-20T12:08:00.002-06:00

Apparently, the 30% who chose "no" have never worked in retail during the holidays or in a call center.

Or, I suppose, in any type of customer service-related position at all.

I've said it before - maybe not here, but during other phases of my blog life - I think every adult should be required to work in some sort of customer service position for at least a year or two before getting any other job. It could be like the draft - everyone is required to serve, except we'd be fighting a war on the disease called rudeness, starting with two of the symptoms - the fact that so many people just don't understand what it's like to be treated poorly by complete strangers, coupled with the fact that a lot of people's brains change the words "customer service" to "customer servants," and modify their treatment of associates and representatives accordingly. Maybe if they'd been been on the receiving end of it, they're fine-tune their approach and we'd all be happier.

I try to refrain as much as possible from discussing my job here, but suffice it to say, every job I've ever had has been customer service-related (even the sales job - especially the sales job), and I have never had a job where I haven't been treated poorly by a customer who feels they've been wronged - current job included , which is especially ironic, given the fact that other professionals are calling me all day, not just your Average Joe.

As a result of being in customer service for *mumble*teen years, I'm a lot nicer to reps than your run-of-the-mill customer. But the downside is that I also expect more. Sounds like an interesting combination, I know, but all it really means is that I'm more patient and forgiving of minor delays and slip-ups that are likely beyond the rep's control (long lines, computer snafus, customers in front of me who do nothing but bitch - I'm actually prone to go all crazy white girl on them rather than the rep), while at the same time not putting up with behavior that I know would get me fired. My husband has called me high-maintenance on occasion, but I've got an incredible handle on what's appropriate and what's not. And treating folks like they're poop on the bottom of your shoe because they stand on the other side of a counter and are there to help you is just flat out inappropriate.

NaBloPoMo FAIL!!

2008-11-19T19:27:00.001-06:00

I forgot to blog yesterday. Perhaps I was too busy being cryptic and making 8 dozen cornbread muffins.

Oops.

Blogging for bloggings sake

2008-11-17T21:47:00.003-06:00

Something I said to my father today really resonates now, when I have to say something - anything - to keep up with NaBloPoMo.

"There are so many blogs out there about absolutely nothing - it must be nice to come across one that's talking about something."

And here I am, posting something completely random, because I made an online pledge to blog every day this month. And of course, I can't let the interwebs down, now can I?

Is it still irony when I'm here, saying absolutely nothing, in an attempt to acknowledge that I really, truly have nothing to say?

Or is it just really flippin' sad?

In an attempt to say something, I could use some good thoughts Tuesday morning at 8 AM Central time. Opportunity is still standing on the sidewalk, and I'll be trying to entice him to knock.

Cnty McCnterson

2008-11-16T12:22:00.003-06:00

The title is censored for the benefit of folks who don't care for that word. Me? I'll use it, it just has to be under very special circumstances. And I think it applies here. Actually, I don't think it's strong enough.

Yes, I know it's a controversial issue. Yes, I know both sides are heated and passionate. But this ~~woman~~ ~~person~~ waste of oxygen effectively ruined someone's life because of a dispute that couldn't have been worth more than a few thousand dollars. It's just beyond the pale.

Both lose in aborted immigrant-citizen home sale
By KATE BRUMBACK, Associated Press Writer Kate Brumback, Associated Press Writer 57 mins ago

ROSWELL, Ga. – Like all illegal immigrants, Lorenzo Jimenez knew the knock on the door from immigration agents could come at any time.

Still, he had enough faith in the American dream to buy a house in this Atlanta suburb, even though signing the papers meant raising the risk: He put his 2-year-old, American-born daughter's name and Social Security number on the title.

And it worked, for a while. Jimenez and his family lived happily enough for several years alongside "regular" citizens.

Nicole Griffin's mom lived a few doors away, and when Griffin visited, she said, her kids played with the Jimenez children. When Jimenez put his four-bedroom, two-bathroom home up for sale last spring, wanting more space, Griffin was immediately interested.

A contract was negotiated but when the sale appeared to go sour, Griffin raised a new issue: that she was a citizen and Jimenez wasn't. She told local media, immigration officials, his boss and others that he was here illegally. She even put signs in the yard of the house exposing his residency status.

As a result, agents came knocking last month, and now Jimenez is fighting to keep from being deported. He also lost his job.

"I'm very sad and very worried," said Jimenez, 32. "I can't sleep because I'm thinking about my family. What's going to happen? I don't know."

Griffin insists her intent was to buy the house, nothing else. The 28-year-old single mother of two maintains she was wronged first, so she acted to protect her interests. She has no regrets.

"At the end, do I feel bad the family got in trouble? No, not at all," she said.

Those who enter the U.S. illegally often say they're just striving for the same things that most American citizens want out of life — a good job, home ownership, maybe a chance to get a little bit ahead. But the ambitions of citizens and non-citizens can collide and, as the painful entanglement between Jimenez and Griffin shows, both sides can wind up feeling like victims.

Jimenez, who is Mexican, has been in the U.S. for about a decade. When he bought the house four years ago, the real estate agent handling the sale told him he could get a better interest rate using his daughter's information on the closing documents than he could using the federal tax identification number he uses to pay income tax here.

Jimenez later filed papers to have his own name added to the title, and that's how it stayed until Griffin spotted the "for sale" sign and $164,500 list price this spring.

With both sides enthusiastic about the sale, a deal was reached and the closing was set for May 15.

Griffin, a payroll clerk and first-time homebuyer, asked to postpone the closing until June 1 because she had problems locking in her interest rate. Jimenez agreed but asked that she move into the house as planned and pay rent until the closing.

Shortly after Griffin moved in, her attorney said there was a problem with the title on the house, namely that Jimenez's young daughter's name was on the title but her signature wasn't on the sale documents. Attorneys said some extra paperwork — establishing a conservatorship to watch out for the child's interest, the first step in getting the title transferred solely to her father — would clear the title, and everyone agreed to postpone again.

Griffin didn't pay the rent, however, claiming she was promised three months free since the delay was Jimenez's fault. She has an e-mail from his real estate agent, Alina Carbonell, saying he'd made the offer.

Jimenez's lawyer, Erik Meder, told her that offer was never firm and insisted she pay rent or vacate the house.

Locked in a letter war with Meder, Griffin escalated her actions. She contacted the FBI, the Roswell Police Department, local media, the state attorney general's office and the governor's office, among others. She asked her congressman, U.S. Rep. Tom Price, for help, saying she felt Jimenez and Meder had deceived her. Price's office, in turn, contacted U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement, said Brendan Buck, a Price spokesman.
"I am a law-abiding American merely trying to purchase a home," Griffin wrote in mid-July in a letter to American Homebuyers, a nonprofit that helps low- to moderate-income families buy homes. "An illegal family fraudulently obtained a mortgage using a 1 yr old SSN, and appear to have all the rights in this situation — How can this be when they shouldn't even be in America?"
She said she contacted anyone she could think of who might be able to help the sale go through.
Jimenez said she started making his life a nightmare. He claims she caused cosmetic damage to the house and intentionally clogged the plumbing, both of which she denies.
Griffin also went after Carbonell, the real estate agent. She contacted the Georgia State Real Estate Commission to try to get her license revoked. Carbonell said the threat to her reputation and to her career caused her so much stress she had to take a leave of absence.
Griffin said she reported Carbonell because the agent knew Jimenez's daughter's name was on the title from the beginning but didn't tell her right away. (Carbonell was not the real estate agent who originally advised Jimenez to use his daughter's name.)
In September, Meder got a judge to order Griffin to pay retroactive rent and get out of the house within a week.
Griffin then went to the upscale Atlanta restaurant where Jimenez worked as a cook and told his boss he was undocumented, which Jimenez said resulted in his firing.
"It was my last resort," Griffin said, "but once I realized my family had seven days to get out of a house that a family's not even legally supposed to own, I did go to his employer and I did let his employer know."
She also put bright red signs in the yard reading, "This house is owned by an illegal alien." When Jimenez tore them down, she put up new ones.
Griffin said she wanted the neighbors to share her outrage over what was happening.
"I don't feel bad for anything that happens to the Jimenez family at this point," Griffin said recently, "because no one feels bad that all I tried to do was buy a house, and I ended up living back with my mother."
In early October, plainclothes ICE agents showed up at Jimenez's apartment. They asked him about his residency status and his purchase of the house, then handcuffed him and took him away. He was released a few hours later and is due before a judge in January and could face eventual deportation.
His lawyers plan to apply to keep Jimenez in the country permanently, a process that could last several years. While it's pending, he will be eligible for a work permit. But even if he gets one, Jimenez will be living in limbo. His application to stay could be rejected, which means he still could be ordered to leave the country.
Jimenez has taken the house off the market but doesn't want to move his family back in amid the uncertainty, so they're still in the apartment that was supposed to be a transitional stop until they bought a bigger place.
Griffin hasn't tried to buy another home, in part because she can't afford to, so she and her kids are still staying with her mother.
Down the street, the Jimenez house sits empty.

Breakfast happiness

2008-11-15T17:48:00.002-06:00

Have you ever had an egg poached so perfectly that you thought - just for a minute - that you could be content eating poached eggs for the rest of your life?

I hadn't, either... until this afternoon.

After dropping my car off to be fixed, we went to Mickey's Tavern for "breakfast" (it was around noon - weekends are for sleeping late), where I had the vegetarian Benedict. I ordered the vegetarian not because I don't eat meat (because heaven knows I love meat), but because the combination of tomato, sautéed mushrooms and sautéed spinach sounded like they'd match beautifully with hollandaise sauce.

They did.

But seriously, the eggs were the stars. The whites were firm but not rubbery, and the yolks... oh, the yolks. Still a lovely golden yellow, and custardy alllllllmost to the point of ooze but not quite. Perfection.

Oh, and only $2.50 for a mimosa. Yum!

Not as cryptic as you'd think

2008-11-14T23:05:00.003-06:00

I had a conversation with a little someone called Opportunity today. Or, well, Opportunity's representative. It was a nice conversation, we got along well, and I think she liked what I had to say. As such, I have been given the chance to meet personally with Opportunity next week. I can just about see him standing on my sidewalk now. Whether he knocks will be a story for another day, but I know that if he does, I will fling the door wide open and welcome him in. And the anticipation is killing me.