Sorry About Your Lunch :(

I was in the office today.  It was one of those days.  I kept finding errors and it was slowing down my production.  I correct people for a living.  We've been taught not to judge, but that goes right out the door with my job.  Granted I don't judge their character or physical attributes.  In fact, I hardly know what any of the people that I judge look like.  I judge what they have entered in our system and if the output is correct.  Sounds technically boring doesn't it.  It can be fun at times though, almost like detective work when I am trying to figure out if the output is accurate based on may different factors.  It can save people a lot of money whether it is my own company, or one of our customers.

While I was working on a particularly difficult problem, and right in the heat of an instant message with another department, I decided to make a quick dash to claim my peanut butter sandwich and my little blue Tupperware container with pineapple bits from the community fridge.  I was hungry and didn't see the problem resolving itself anytime soon.  I knew food could only aid my brain power.  I opened the fridge, grabbed my blue lunch bag, and suddenly there was a loud splat on the floor.  The unthinkable had happened.  Someone else's lunch had jumped off the shelf (it jumped I promise), hit the floor, and spewed half of it's content all over the floor and even onto my newly cleaned pants and my black boot.  The lunch smelled good.  Some sort of bean, chicken and salsa concoction, probably made in a slow cooker.   I grabbed paper towel after paper towel and scooped some poor soul's lunch off the floor into the garbage.  I tried desperately to clean my pant leg while in the back of my head imagining what was happening to my instant message conversation, or lack there off, back at my desk.  I didn't say I was stepping away.

An employee walked into the lunch room.  I tense up wondering if this is the poor suspecting person who's lunch is now mercilessly strewn in front of the fridge.  Instead the person walked past the fridge, looked at me and made a noise like "Ohhhhh".  You know that noise when someone looks at you and thinks..'How sad!  Glad it wasn't me'. 

"Yeah, It isn't even my lunch" I desperately say.  "I just pulled out my bag and it fell.  I feel terrible!". 

"You could leave a note".

My brain starts running.  What is the proper etiquette in this situation?  Is it similar when you bump a car in the parking lot?  Do you leave a note with your insurance information?  Do you leave the amount of money that you think their lunch is worth?  An IOU to replace their lunch with some of your leftovers.  Do they want my peanut butter sandwich? 

I probably was the lesser person here.  It wasn't my fault their lunch fell out of the fridge right?  I did write a note.

"Sorry, your lunch fell out of the fridge and some of it spilled on the floor :( -Alice"

Nothing more...and yes I signed my name and put a frowny face.  Somehow that seemed nicer instead of leaving it unsigned.  The more I think about it I wonder if it was the right thing to do.  Should I have left money?  What if they have no other way to eat today?  They probably hate me.  It is a pretty big company.  The probably don't know who I am.  I still have their chicken, slow cooker concoction on my leg.  They could find me...sniff me out.  It's good I only am in the office on Friday.  I work at home most of the time.  Ack, now I feel terrible.  Guilt!  Guilt!  Guilt!!

I have now made another mad dash to the lunch room.  I ignored the people sitting in the corner, opened the fridge, and place 6 quarters on the top of the half empty Tupperware container.  It is still there with my little yellow post it note of apology.  Okay...I think I'm feeling better now.  That should be enough right?  They can get a few things from the vending machine or something small from the kiosk downstairs to supplement their meal.  It wasn't a lot of food to start with so they have something else in the fridge right?  A side of some sort?  I give up!!

Wouldn't it be funny if is a leftover lunch that has been there forever, abandoned? That would be my luck today. 

I Need a Time Machine

I can be pretty sentimental.  I think I inherited that trait from my Father.  It can cause problems at times.  For example, I saw the Muppet Movie while it was in theaters...twice.  Once with Contessa, my middle child, and then with Belle, my oldest daughter.  When I watched Kermit singing "Pictures in My Head" I was absolutely taken back to something that my dad would say.  "Take a picture in your mind so you will always remember this moment".  Huge tears starting streaming down my checks.  I was so glad the theater was dark.  I absolutely hate crying in front of people.  Not only is it embarrassing if I do it for any sort of prolonged time I get puffy eyelids.  It is never fun to explain why it looks like I'm having an allergic reaction.  "Hey..what's wrong with your eyes...are you okay".  How do you respond to that..."Oh you know, I was just crying because Kermit the Frog ...well he..was...singing....sniff".  Sounds a tad bit silly!

It got even worse when the whole gang sang "Rainbow Connection".  Oh, how I love that song.  I am such a sap.  Not only does it have this heart-warming message it was as song I remember my dad singing.  Again, I just started crying.  My daughters would look over at me with this look.  My oldest was probably beyond embarrassed.  It is tough enough to be 12.  It is only worse when your mom is having a breakdown at the Muppet movie.  Belle may not have any chance of having any sort of normal social life with me as her mother.

I have always loved the Muppets, my whole family did when we were growing up.  My dad did great Kermit impressions. When I feel so overly touched about things that remind me of my childhood I wish I had a time machine.  I wish I could hop in, hold on tight, and go back to my own little bedroom when I was a little girl.  To see those peach walls again, the yellow checked curtains, and the brown carpet.  To hear my mom rocking out to Flashdance upstairs while making her home made spaghetti.  To have my father read "The Visit" to me in his soothing voice.  To play Monopoly with my little brother for hours and hours on end.  To be able to visit with my older sister and hear her secrets. 

I would have to come back at just the right moment, because there were some really rough ones and my childhood was anything but perfect.  I know there are some really warm ones though and sometimes I just want to escape there, for just an hour or two.  Is that too much to ask?

I am a Lazy Exerciser

I am trying to be healthy and that includes exercising.  Who isn't trying to be healthy this time of the year, right?  One of my new year's resolutions last year was to lose weight and get in amazing shape.  I looked through classifieds for a week or more trying to find an exercise bike.  It was the only piece of exercise equipment that could be squished into a small corner.  My house is small at best, a petite bungalow built in the 1950's.  I finally gave up with the classifieds.  It was a hot time of the year for exercise bikes and they would be sold in just mere hours.  Instead I headed down to my local warehouse store with Persephone in her car seat.  I found my brand new exercise bike, giddily paid for it, and then tried to figure out how to get it home in my mid size family car.  I was in a hurry to began losing that weight.  I couldn't waste another minute more being my frumpy self!  The employees were quite perplexed.  They stared at the bike and then back to my tiny trunk as snowflakes danced around us.  "We can make it fit right" I said. 

I had a horrible mom moment right then and there.  I placed Persephone's infant car seat in the front seat.  I buckled it in and made sure it was rear facing, but knew that if we hit anything the airbags would go off and she'd be toast.  I pushed that thought away.  That would never happen.  The bike, baby and I were going to be safe.  The employees did their best to push the box further and further into my car.  They tied the trunk down with twine and I headed home.  The roads were snowy and slick and then the anxiety began to well inside of me.  We were going to die.  We were going to slide down the road, get hit by oncoming traffic, and die horrible deaths in a fireball of unimaginable proportions.  I could see the blond anchorwoman standing by the charred car saying "Mother sacrifices her and her baby's life...All over an exercise bike.  Oh the vanity".  With my eyes glued to the rode I prayed over and over to make it home safe.  I promised God I would never do anything so stupid again. 

I did make it home safe and overflowing with guilt I confessed to Max just how stupid I had been.  The words tumbled out of my mouth so quickly I don't think he knew what to say.  He didn't judge me too harshly, but he did leave me to put my very heavy bike all together by myself.  It took hours of looking at diagrams, lifting heavy metal pieces and mumbling to myself.  When I was all done I was so proud of myself, well at least the whole putting the bike together, not the baby endangerment.  I got my exercise clothes on right away and began peddling.  Oh the Joy!  I was an exercise goddess.  That night we had pizza.  I'd worked hard!

Well here I am again this year, determined to get in shape.  I am learning I am a lazy exerciser.  I love the bike.  Yes it helps me be healthier, yes I feel more energetic when I exercise, but more importunately it allows me to read, all alone, at 6:00 in the morning.  I sit on my bottom, pedal my legs, and pour myself into a book.  The ecstasy of it!  No work, no kids needing my attention.  It's just me the bike and my book.  Max asked me the other night if I wanted to do kickboxing with him.  I said no.  It sounded like way too much work.  Besides I had a bad arm from falling on the driveway, really, I did!  Can't I just sit and exercise? 

"Because the Sky is Blue it Makes Me Cry"

I am a Beatles fan.  Not everyone is, especially in my generation.  Many people feel they have been elevated to an undeserved Godly status.  Who knows why I latched onto the Fab Four.  It might have something to do with my Father.  He was a pretty big fan himself.  Not only did he introduce me to their music, but also their early movies.  I remember watching "Hard Day's Night" as a tween.  I was laying on our brown, low shag carpet, staring up at our small TV and I was totally smitten by the English accents, the moppy hair, and their cute smiles.  It was an actual crush, which in its own right is very odd.  One Beatle was already dead, and the three others had to be at least as old as my Dad.  It didn't matter to me.  At that moment I wanted to be in the arms of a Beatle. 

As I grew up and moved past my initial infatuation, I rediscovered their music and began a life long Love Affair.  My absolute favorite song is "Because".  The first time I ever heard the song I was working in a small room all by myself late in the day, typing out property inspections.  The song came through my headphones and I stopped typing immediately.  There are certain songs that I can have a physical reaction to, almost a euphoria!  "Because" is one of those songs.  The harmonies cascade into my breathless heart and I am speechless.  I played the song over and over.  I couldn't let it go.  I didn't want the next song to come.  It has even brought tears to my eyes before.

Today I am blue.  I can't say exactly why.  I can theorize.  Perhaps I am missing my Dad.  Perhaps it is because I totally fell and slammed my side on the icy driveway this morning.  Perhaps it is seeing my baby girl crying after her painful shots.  Perhaps it is because I'm chained to my desk, working another day.  Who knows.  I came across "Because" again today, and like the original time I heard it I am playing it over and over.  It plays into my somber mood, and yet on another level it elevates me. 

There aren't many words to the song and at a glance you would wonder if it has any merit. 

"Because the world is round it turns me on
Because the world is round...aaaaaahhhhhh

Because the wind is high it blows my mind
Because the wind is high...aaaaaaaahhhh

Love is old, love is new
Love is all, love is you

Because the sky is blue, it makes me cry
Because the sky is blue...aaaaaaahhhh"

In fact reading the lyrics you may wonder if the Beatles were having a high moment, and perhaps they were, but there is something to the simplicity of it all that touches me.  So I may need some Beatles therapy today.  Hopefully it will do some good, and very likely I will pull myself out of my blue phase.  I never linger long.  There is too much to do, too much good in the world, and too much not to find joy in.  For now though let me be somber.

Max Power

I am married to a pretty quiet guy.  Get him in the court room and you wouldn't know it.  In those stately halls he has to be strong and exude confidence, otherwise he'll be eaten alive.  Practically everywhere else in this world my husband keeps to himself.  I think he inherited it.  I remember when we were dating and I visited his parents in their home.  At first I wondered if they didn't like me.  I think most of the time was spent in awkward silence, trying not to look at each other, while I  frantically tried to make conversation.  I was raised to not only talk, but to talk A LOT!  That is another story though.  I later learned that not only did his parents like me, they were thrilled that we were together. 

My husband is different around me though.  He is funny, witty, sometimes grumpy, but never afraid to talk.  When I mentioned my anonymous blog he got pretty excited.  I told him I was thinking of calling him Larry.  His made a sour face and said "Larry!  Then I'll have to grow a mustache and wear a leisure suite.  My name should be Max Power".  I let out a load guffaw!  He went on to explain how it comes from a Simpson's episode.  We haven't watched the Simpson's in years, but it was a big part of his life once upon a time.  How could I say no to him? So Max Power it is.  I don't think I'll be taking his last name though.  Alice Power?  It just doesn't sound right.  Plain Alice will do for me. 

Now what to name the children?  I think we may have to ressurect some of the names that were discarded when we were deciding what to name our offspring.  Poor Max.  It was his names that were thrown out.  We did come to an agreement on all of the names, but these two were cut:  Contessa and Persephone.  Contessa funny enough was suggested after my husband unknowingly noticed the name on the side of a shrimp box.  When I pointed that out it had to go.  Persephone is a greek goddess, Zues's daughter in fact.  All I could think of is "What will we call her?  Percy?  Isn't Percy a boy's name?"  For the purpose of this blog though I think they are making a comeback. 

My Name is Alice

Hi!  My name is Alice.  Well not really, but here it will be.  I decided to start this blog as an experiment of sorts.  I can't really write, as you will soon discover, but I'm not going to let that stop me.  You may ask, "Why write anonymously"?  There are several reasons.

1.  You feel like you can share almost anything because it doesn't connect back to you.
2.  There is a crazy guy, and not just any crazy guy, a REALLY crazy guy.  He is the reason I had to make a public blog, private a few years back.  I can't write anything public without the fear that it will be used to terrorize myself and my family. I feel a story in the making on this point.
3.  Because Anonymous while difficult to say sounds like fun!

Hopefully I will snag a few readers on the way because let's face it, I miss readers.  Making a public blog private is the quickest way to cut out your followers and frankly you really can't blame them for leaving.  Once you go private your readers are thrown on a path. They can either choose that you are exciting enough to go through the trouble of having to sign in every time they want to read anything about your, or let you go.  The lurkers and the unknowns will never ask for an invitation because they won't presume that you'll want them reading your blog. 

"Alice is Anonymous" is open to everyone.  There are no sign ins, sign ups, pop ups or much else for that matter.  Just me...Alice.