Panic

Last night, I had dinner with my team from the Taproot Foundation, a nonprofit I'm working with. Many of us are in various stages of experiencing or recovering from major life issues, so the conversation was lively. Thus, I missed the 8 p.m. train. Which meant I had to take the 9:30. Which resulted in me finally putting head to pillows around 11:30 pm.

So you can imagine how pleasant a person I was when the alarm went off at 4:57 a.m.

Imagine the surprise, panic and concern that arose when I staggered downstairs to find a text message from Good Buddy.

"This is stupid, but if you're up before 8 I need wakeup call. Seriously."

Now, if you know of GoodBuddy, you know he's not one to (ahem) shall we say, live an ascetic lifestyle. He's kinda prone to excess.

So my (albeit overly tired) writer's imagination was running wild. What kind of mess had he got himself into that he was going to need me to wake him up? In what state could he have gone to bed that he couldn't rely on his own faculties? Would I have to call the paramedics? The police? The morgue?

Turns out he couldn't find his alarm clock.

Could he not have mentioned that wee little fact in his text?

I need more coffee.

Losers' Club Takes a Train Ride

So, Sunday night, I did the 'ole tossing and turning thing. I'm not exactly sure why - I never am. It's always the nights I think I'm gonna sleep like a log that I wind up Wide Awake Wilson.

Despite getting a grand total of about three hours' rest, when the alarm went off at 5 a.m., I groaned my body out of bed and put on my sneakers. I'd wanted to go for a long walk along by beautiful back shore the night before but hadn't gotten around to it. So, I decided I'd do the 5-miles as my morning jog. And you know me, once I set my mind to something...

Of course, as the day wore on, my eyes got heavier and heavier, my brain foggier and foggier. By quittin' time, I felt like I had cotton between my ears. But, alas, I had my iPod on hand - with lots of uplifting and bouncy tunes, so I knew I'd survive the trip home.

I made it onto the subway, off the subway, into the train station. I grabbed a bottle of water, located the track my train was on and boarded the train. I leaned my head against the cool glass of the window, closed my eyes and let Krishha Das lull me to sleep. Almost to sleep anyway.

About 30 minutes into the trip, I thought I heard the conductor say, "Next stop, Wyoming." Wyoming? Wow, I must be having a CRAZY dream. I'm not in Wyoming.

But I was.

You see, Wyoming is a stop on the Haverhill line. The HAVERHILL train line. Which heads WEST. Not North, which is where the GLOUCESTER line heads. Look at a map. Put your finger on Boston. Now draw a really wide V. That's the distance between where I got off the train and where my car/home was.

Well, it cost me $120 for the taxi. And it took me an extra 45 minutes. But I got home safe and sound. And by nine o'clock, I was passed out cold in my very own bed.

Tonight, I asked not one, but TWO, train attendants if the train was the Rockport/Gloucester line. And then I asked the woman sitting next to me. She probably thought I was crazy. I really don't care.

So, THAT's what they mean by CRAZY

My new boss is insane. Now, don't get me wrong, she's a wicked nice human being. She's sweet, kind, smart and she's pretty funny to boot. But she's CAH RAY ZEE.

Thursday morning, I had a beautiful commute. I hopped on the 8:02 express train, settled in and a short 57 minutes later I was walking into my office. One look at my watch showed 9:00. Ding ding ding. I powered on my computer, set my bag down, picked up my phone to quickly place an order for flowers for my parents' anniversary. In comes bosslady (moniker TBD), all a flutter.

"You have a nine o'clock!"

"I didn't have one on my calendar. I'm pretty sure I only have an 11 today."

"A reminder for a nine o'clock came up on my calendar!"

I look at her. "Well, I don't know who I'm supposed to be meeting with. I don't think I have one until Joseph at 11. I checked." To the phone. "I'm sorry I'll have to call you back."

At this point, she's rushed out of my office, across the hall, to her office. She's frantically checking her email. I stick my head into her office. "Do you know who it's supposed to be with? I really don't have anything on my planner or my Outlook calendar...."

She looks up sheepishly. "I guess I never dismissed the reminder for your meeting yesterday at nine with Mark. Sorry."

Yea, um, sure. Tell that to my racing heart and pounding adrenaline.

So, yea. She's kind of high strung. I've had IT guys, facilities folk and finance peeps all wishing me good luck. And they don't even really know her either.

I realize (from years of therapy, yoga, self-help books and good ole-fashioned insight) that a lot of her erratic behavior comes from insecurity and the overt need for approval. But still! It's gonna take a lot for me to maintain my composer in the light of her high-strung, nervous energy.

Of course, since I got a lot of sleep last night and I did a lot of yoga today, I can make the statement that I can deal with her behavior rationally and respond not react and use it all as fodder for my great novel. But the reality is more likely that she's gonna drive me bonkers.

Stay tuned, dear readers. This might just get interesting...

Perspectives

When the alarm went off at 4:50 this morning, I didn't wake up with a start or a shout or a nervous butterfly atwittering in my tummy. What in heavens does that portend?

Of course I was a wee bit hesitant about starting the new job. But for some reason I have felt so calm, so certain, so focused that I just truly know it will all be okay. So when the folks at my gym - who have been following the saga - told me they just knew it would work out, I could only agree with them heartily.

Sure, there are a few quirks. My boss seems a bit too eager to share "the inside scoop" on some co-workers with me. And, as a fellow Jersey girl, she's a bit too keen on Janet Evanovich for my comfort and liking. Still, she seems to possess a good mix of responsibility and perspective. Which is refreshing.

The commute wasn't ideal for day one but, then again, perhaps it was my fault for taking the "long way home" and walking from Copley Plaza to Government Center to get on the Green Line. (But it was so nice out!). And it's funny, now that I'll be going into the city everyday how much I realize I let the distance put me off from travelling there for the last nine months. I'm even goin to be crossing the bridge again on Saturday to hang with Tia Marie. Go me breaking out of my comfort zone.

But what is really causing me to take some pause tonight at my newfound perspectives is (are?) my friends. I bemoan the fact a lot that I have a limited social life. Many of my nights (prior to last week and change anyway) are spent quietly in my wonderful home or strolling the beach in the moonlight. Alone. And yet, I cannot tell you how many wonderful messages I got last night and this morning. Best wishes and positive thoughts and the occasional inside joke (chirp chirp). Each and every one making me smile that much wider, making me feel that much more confident. These people may not be folks I can meet out for lunch or a cup of coffee because of time or space but they are people I am truly and deeply grateful I have found in my life.

So, for all ya'all, I say "thanks for putting up with me this summer. It's been pretty hellish. But I promise - cross my heart and hope to reincarnate - I've gained some serious perspective."

On Being Type A

From what I can tell, being a "Type A Person" means that you are slightly anal-retentive (yes, it has a hyphen, har har), prone to develop and stick to schedules, and dislike interruptions to routine and threats to your own personal authority.

Which means - sort of by definition - that vacations are kind of a difficult adjustment. Isn't that weird - the thought that vacations are tough?

Yet, here I am, officially more than halfway through my last week of "vacation." And I'm stressed about all the shit I haven't gotten done.

I had all sorts of plans to get things done this week. But then a crazy thing happened. I became spontaneous. I stayed out until the wee hours of the morning on Saturday/Sunday. I went out to dinner last night which turned into very late-night drinks. Today I spent the day - the WHOLE day - with a good friend.

And while I appreciate and value how much fun and enjoyment I had during these and other spontaneous acts. I am also kinda, sorta, in a way, resenting how little time this has left me for my "regular" activities. I blew off the gym today. I have much fresh fruit and veg that is going to rot because I haven't had a chance to prep/cook it. There are SO MANY emails to send I can't even count. And I'm not even mentioning the stuff I wanted to look at/prep up on before the new gig starts on Monday.

I realize this is making me sound like a huge stick in the mud and really not much fun. But, on the other hand, is it really so awful to know in your heart and mind the things that work for you and the things that don't?

Of course, all of this is known through the lens that I will, for all intents and purposes, be losing my ENTIRE Friday and quite possibly Saturday because I am FINALLY going sailing with Good Buddy. I've only waited the whole summer. But, yes, I fully realize how little in the way of productive tasks will get done before/during/after said sailing trip. And, yes, there is a part of me that is begruding missing Group Power on Friday Evening. But that part is small. Really small. Because, after all this time, if I've learned anything, it's that I should treasure and cherish my time spent with Good Buddy. After all....

If only I could learn to put the rest of my life into such perspective.

Like a Gazelle

More from the ever-so-graceful one.

This commercial came on the TV while I was running on the treadmill today. At least, I was running ont the treadmill until the commercial came on and I got so dizzy I almost fell off.

Seriously, this commercial should have a warning label on it. "May lead to feelings of nausea. Seatbelts should be worn low and tight across your lap. Keep your hands and feet inside the ride at all times."

Losers' Club Goes to the Beach

Went to the beach (again!) today. In order to not get sunburned before tomorrow's meetings/interviews, I was very careful in the application of the suntan lotion.

And then I went on into the water. The waves were a little choppy but no biggie for an experienced swimmer like me.

Unless, of course, I'm standing near a kid playing on a boogie board with apparently very slippery hands. And a wave comes. And knocks the boogie board out of his hands. Out of his hands and into my face. Right across my nose.

Huge gash. Should look really attractive tomorrow in my interview.

No sunburn though. Go me.

Gross

My little Eliza just caught and ate a fly. Doesn't she look so proud of herself?

Of course, this means there will be kitty pukage at some point tonight.

FUN.

Random Hilarity

Taking a break from the real world tonight after a very enjoyable day in the city with Tia Marie. Watching Charlie Bartlett which is proving to be quite enjoyable in its own right. And even funnier, I hit the Pause button to take a phonecall and I came back to see this:

Boy oh boy, I just love me some Robert Downey Jr.