Sweat Shop

Now that the most humid weather of the summer is upon us, guess what happens?

It’s Monday morning, and there’s no A/C in the entire office building.

How many got that right?

I felt it the moment I entered the lobby.  Stifling.  Yucky.

Up the elevator and into my 87-degree office.  Ugh.  Remember when buildings were designed with windows that could be opened?  Before anyone cared if a few Suicide Joes took advantage of the high altitude and solid pavement below?

Patrick and I scrambled to get his 10 AM closing relocated to the client’s office.  When the closing was finished, he called to say he would be working from home for the remainder of the day.  No surprise, nearly all the other attorneys already had jumped ship, leaving us staffers here to melt.

So, two of the staff attorneys (who rank way below associates, who rank way below partners) went out to the street vendor who sets up shop in front of the courthouse and came back with two big trays of these, for all to enjoy:

Del’s frozen lemonade, a Rhode Island treasure.  You’ll have to try this stuff, bluesleepy.  It’s good with some vodka in it, too.  No, not at work.  We’re not here sweltering and getting snockered on Stoli.

Yes, courtesy of two staff attorneys.  Staff attorneys are paid by the hour and don’t earn nearly what the other attorneys earn.  And, of course, they do the bulk of the real work.  Often, the partners “oversee” and come in at the end to schmooze with the client and take credit for all the work.

Partners leave when the office is oppressively hot, but do not close the office even though they are the only ones with authority to do so.

Staff attorneys buy frozen lemonade for the rest of the staff.  They buy the large size, not small.  They do not have expense accounts from which they can be reimbursed.

Thank you, Jim and Dave.

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Last Minute Friday Five

1.  What are your nicest and ugliest articles of clothing?
Nicest:  My teal silk and organza ball gown.  Very princess.  I wish I could wear it every day.
Ugliest:  A faded red, black, and yellow flannel nightshirt.  Yeah, sex-ay, huh?  For real, though, in the dead of winter, flannel feels good when I’m feeling sick.

2.  What are your favorite and least favorite things about the city/town you live in?
Favorite:  The nearby beach!
Least favorite:  Lots of traffic, lots of bad drivers.

3.  What were the longest and shortest durations of your romantic relationships?
Longest:  Kevin, 2½ years
Shortest:  Jim, not quite one month

4.  Who are the oldest and youngest people in your family?
Oldest:  Uncle Bill (71?)
Youngest:  Emma (12)

5.  Who are your neatest and messiest friends?
Neatest:  Kelly.  She calls herself a Neat Freak.  I call that an Understatement.
Messiest:  Christy.  Her bedroom always looks as if it were ransacked by the DEA, and her car is always nasty.

Scrapathon tomorrow at Sandy’s – whee!  

Happy Weekend!

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PIF Winners!

And the Pay It Forward recipients are:

From Diaryland:

cosmicrayola
somnambulist
smokefree-me

and

From WordPress:

awittykitty
yankeechick
bluesleepy

All the lucky winners need to do is click on the Contact tab above and send me an email with the address to which he/she would like his/her goodie sent.  Note that I am not necessarily asking for home addresses.  I respect privacy.  Likewise, I request that neither my name nor any part of my mailing address (except the “Rhode Island” part) be posted on this site or the recipients’ sites.

Please also note that the way this works is that the recipients are to make a similar Pay It Forward offer on their sites.  I leave this to their discretion and pass no judgment if like offers are not posted.

Okay?

Enough rulin’ and regulatin’.

This procrastinatrix will do her darned best to send stuff out by the end of August.  If not, winners are welcome to harass me.

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Open House

Okay, I’ve put out the official word at Land of D, so if you followed the link from there to here – Welcome!

Look around, get caught up.  Same cast, updated profile (About page, above).  I think all the links and tabs are working.  Comments are welcome.

I dragged over my Visitor Map, so if you haven’t already marked your spot, please feel free to do so.  Lurkers, too.  I don’t bite; that’ll cost you extra.

As for the Free Stuff alluded to back at the old residence, I snagged this from bluesleepy:

Pay It Forward!  I will send a handmade gift to the first three people who leave a comment on my blog requesting to join this Pay It Forward exchange.  I don’t know what that gift will be yet, and you may not receive it tomorrow or next week, but you will receive it within 365 days, that is my promise!  The only thing you have to do in return is Pay It Forward by making the same promise on your blog.

I’M DOUBLING THIS OFFER.  The first three people from the Land of D – AND! – the first three people not from the Land of D will receive a handmade doodad.  Because I heart you all so much.

* * * * *

Most of the partners will be out of the office tomorrow and Monday, so I hope to get a couple of posts up then.

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WWGR?

My dear friend Vanessa is in the habit of forwarding all those warm, fuzzy, affirmation-type emails (including, unfortunately, the loathsome chain mail).  I generally delete them without really reading them, particularly the religious ones.  It’s just not for me.  However, I don’t ask her to stop sending them.  If it makes her feel good, then why begrudge her?  Besides, it’s nice to know that two years’ time and the miles between Rhode Island and Tennessee haven’t kept her from thinking of me.  (Of course, we still chat regularly, too.)

Today’s email made me chuckle, though I don’t think it was intended to.  It was entitled “To a Beautiful Person”, and it began with this:

If God had a refrigerator, your picture would be on it.
If He had a wallet, your photo would be in it.

And I Laughed.  Out Loud.

If God had a refrigerator?  Sorry, that’s some funny shit.  And a wallet?  For what?  I don’t think God has money, much less any credit or debit cards.  Are there ATMs in heaven?  Does He need to carry identification?

If God had a refrigerator, would there be beer in it?

Forgive me, for I am warped.

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CrackTV

Once again, it’s that pathetic time of year when Jeannie turns me into a reality TV viewer.  Damn her.  Damn me.  Damn Big Brother.

I can only hope that I will lose interest before it’s over.  It can happen.  Vote out the ones I find remotely entertaining or interesting, and I’ll drop it like that bad habit that it is.

I try to maintain a personal rule about not watching excessive television, particularly crap television, and dammit if Jeannie doesn’t push this crack on me because she knows I’ve done it before.  Fucking enabler.  I told her so.

Aside from this vice, I don’t do so-called reality television or garbage like Jerry Springer or Jackass.  Don’t tell me it’s so bad it’s good.  No.  It’s a bunch of idiots I would never invite to my home, and that includes via television.  I am usually so good about clicking off the television, just as I would close the door in some a-hole’s face if he or she showed up at my front door.

Hell, there aren’t even any network programs I watch on a regular basis.  I’ve never seen any CSI or Law and Order.  No Bachelor, no Survivor, NO American Idol, not even a nanosecond of it, not ever.  Mom can tell me again and again how much she enjoys Monk; I’ve never watched it.

But Jeannie knows my weakness.  My inexplicable weakness.

Shifting my attention to that which I fully embrace, without shame, it’s 2 DAYS ‘TIL TOOL!  I’ve been checking the weather forecasts like a diligent motherfucker.  Thunderstorms?  No problem – I’ll have a roof over my head.  I’m just looking for lower temperatures.  In the past few days, Thursday’s forecast has changed from 88 (ick) and thunderstorms to 79 and morning showers (thank god).  The cooler, the better, because it’ll be hotter than hell so close to the stage.  On the plus side, WE’RE CLOSE TO THE STAGE!  And, yes, I’m wearing flip flops, so if any drunken oaf comes within stomping distance of my precious toes, he can expect a knee to the groin.  I mean it.  Don’t fuck with me OR my toes.

Yeah, I know BB is on that night.  Will I be addicted enough to tape it?  Most likely.  And watch it when I get home from the concert?  No way.  I wouldn’t dare kill my concert buzz.

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Congratulations, Dr. Jenny!

I’m about a month overdue on this, but I want to give a shout-out to the Amazing Jenny, who is now officially the Amazing DR. Jenny.  Yes, after many years of hard work and lean living, Jenny has earned her doctorate in English.

I still smile when I think what gods must have been looking out for me when, in first grade, I was blessed with her friendship.  As adults, we may not have a buttload of common interests, but we admire and respect the hell out of each other, and that tops common interests any day.

Jenny, Ph.D., English
KarmaCat, posts stuff online

Here’s the card I made for her:

In true Jenny form, she praised my card making ability as if it were on a par with her recent accomplishment.  To which I responded, “I think Mrs. [N.] [our first grade teacher] would be proud of both of us – you for your doctorate and me for my ability to cut a square from construction paper.”

And while I was correct in using a gold “tassel,” I told Jenny that I thought tassels for doctoral degrees also should have glitter and sparkles.  However, I’m sure the university folks would disagree, and besides, it’s not really Jenny’s style.

Jenny will be visiting sometime next month.  I can’t wait.

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From the Right Side of the Tracks

Lauren, Nick, and I went to the fireworks at our nearby beach.  It was all-around lovely, nothing like the unpleasantness of last year’s experience.

We went early enough (two hours before showtime) and were able to drive straight to and past the beach.  Past the beach is important.  That way, you can park “ahead of” the masses, from a departure point of view.  Much less traffic to fight on the way out.  (Bicycling would be a good alternative, except that none of us wanted to cycle home in pitch blackness.)

We strolled onto the grassy area near the beach parking lot and staked our claim.  My preferred vantage point, the one I couldn’t get to last year.  We had a great view of the ocean and could even see part of the set-up from which the fireworks would be set off.

(As a side note, I must give thanks to the person who invented those folding chairs that collapse so nicely and slide right into their long, narrow tote bags.  SO much easier to carry than bifold chairs (especially in multiples), and they’re stable and comfortable, too.  Truly a wonderful thing.  Mine even has two cupholders; Lauren’s and Nick’s chairs had only one.)

In contrast to last year, we witnessed:

No unattended children.
No smoking.
No idiots on cell phones.
No boomboxes.
No loudmouths.

Instead, the nearby children had balls and toys and such to keep themselves occupied while under the mindful eyes of their parents, and they disturbed no one.  Larger groups of people (6 plus) weren’t yelling and shouting at each other, not even the group of bikers in our midst.  I saw NOT ONE cell phone, a miracle of sorts these days.

Ah, civility.

The fireworks commenced shortly after nine o’clock and lasted about 25 minutes.  Not a particularly long time, but they were intense.  None of that one firework, wait two minutes, another firework bullshit.  They were setting off up to three at a time with no gaps.  And, when you’re seated less than 200 yards from the launch site, fireworks are BIG.  Huge.  We tilted our heads back and watched each one fill the sky over the water.  The finale was insane – we could see them being fired into the air, ten or more in rapid succession, then a slight (3- to 5-second) pause, and another ten more or so, for that final few minutes.

Oh, I brought my iPod again.  I really enjoyed my fireworks to music last year.  This year, I set it to shuffle.  The soundtrack to this year’s finale:  “High Roller” by The Crystal Method.  Cool.

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