Maraschino’s Neighborhood

I just happened to revisit my Vox account and realized that I've been absent for almost 6 months. That means it's been 6 months since I sat down to just freely write. And that's 6 months too long.

I wish I could say that life has been really blah while I was gone. To be honest, I really started posting more and more stuff on Facebook and reconnecting with old friends. And I've been out living life, as I ought.

I took a few minutes to revisit my posts from 2009, and, well, it's kind of amazing how much The Boy has grown and changed, and I'm so intrigued to see how I've grown as a person. I feel like I'm kind of getting the hang of this motherhood thing, like I can take that role in stride now and not let it be my primary focus. As such, I've started wearing short skirts again and occasionally heels, and I'm taking better care of myself. That's not to say that I gave up wearing jeans, of course. I still wear them, but they're a little more fashionable now and not simply utilitarian.

Recent introspection has made me realize that I really haven't been myself for a while. I took a trip up to New York the weekend after Halloween and kind of found myself again. I saw glimpses of a younger, happier, more vibrant Eileen and realize that's the real me. That's the Eileen I need to get back to.

So, this past month has been interesting, at best, as I rediscover myself. Basically, I'm the same person, but I'm taking steps to figure out - and go after - what I want and be the kind of person I want to be. I feel like an amarylis bulb that was sitting dormant in the ground for such a long time, now finally blessed with the right conditions that are enabling me to bloom once more.

And it's a great feeling.

Sometimes, the last thing I want to say is "No."

We're having a Sample Sale at work tomorrow morning. Before I started working here, the proceeds from the sale went right back to the company and paid for miscellaneous department expenses. (It was a good way to make sure we, as a department, remained within budget.)

Anyway, the next time we had a Sample Sale, I asked the department head if we could donate a portion of the proceeds to the American Heart Association in sponsorship of our team at the Orlando Heart Walk. That was in 2007, and since then, we've agreed that at least one sale's proceeds would go towards what has become our department philanthropic event. And so 15% of what we collect at every sale goes towards a charity; the remaining 85% covers department expenses.

Earlier this year, our department head approached me, suggesting we support Coventant House with our first Sample Sale. I spearheaded a jeans drive to coincide with the sale, and we raised $1000 in cash (the most we've ever raised) and an additional $3000 worth of clothing. The initial plan was to have a sale each quarter, but this has been an exceptionally busy year for us (a poor economy means more work for me as an analyst) and we didn't get around to a second sale until now.

When the flyer went out, I noted that a portion of the proceeds would sponsor our company's team at the Orlando Heart Walk. Afterwards, I received an e-mail asking if we could also donate some money to the Pink Dragonboat Racing Team, which would benefit breast cancer research. (Never mind that the company as a whole donates several hundred thousand dollars to various breast cancer foundations each year.) I responded with a non-committal, "Not this time, but maybe next time if we have another sale before the race."

Just now, one of the directors was approached by one of the maintenance crew who knows a family with a handicapped child in need of an operation, and the family does not have insurance, nor a way to pay for the operation. Heart-wrenching, no? I ultimately sent him to the department head who said we couldn't help because this isn't a registered charitable organization (or an employee in need) and we, as a company, don't randomly hand out money to people. (There is an employee fund, though, to which we've contributed in the past.) The director had already referred him to St. Vincent de Paul, an organization that specializes in cases like that.

As awful as this is going to sound, I think it's incredibly ballsy to approach someone for money like that, even if it is for someone in need. There are sob stories everywhere I turn. A good friend was just unexpectedly laid off earlier this week and has been nursing horrible dental pain for several months, a coworker's self-employed husband has had no clients for the past 3 months (and they're starting to default on loans), another good friend (who is a single mom) has taken her son to the hospital more times in the last three months than I have been in my entire life and has had her hours at work slashed by more than half, and the stories go on. Everyone's life has static, and there aren't a whole lot of people feeling particularly flush these days.

And so, I have to be selfish and heartless and say, "No, I'm sorry, we can't help your cause."

No matter how much I can logically justify my decisions, I still feel really bad.

He did it! He did it! He did it he did it he DID it!!!

In case you missed the big announcement on Facebook yesterday (as many of you may well have, since I'm not FB friends with many of my Vox neighbors):

THE BOY SAT ON - AND PEED IN - THE POTTY!!!

(Pause for Happy Dance.)

It happened at school, so now we need to witness it at home. And, given the option, he's prefer to wear diapers over training pants, but that's okay. My baby peed in the potty! It's such a HUGE deal!!!

That concludes this major announcement. We now return to your regularly scheduled programming.

Generally speaking, I'm a very trusting person. Some might even say I'm too trusting.

I like to give people the benefit of the doubt. I like to believe the best about people. I like thinking that people have genuinely good hearts and generous souls.

So, why, then, am I starting to reevaluate my opinions of people?

I have a number of acquaintances whose company I enjoy (most of the time), but I draw the line at calling them "friends" because I don't trust them. There are other people I know (many of whom I prefer to avoid) whose words and actions I carefully weigh because I can feel another purpose behind what they may say or do.

And it's exhausting.

I'm blatantly honest when I tell people my motives. I interviewed a coworker last month, for example, to write an article about her. I wanted to write a "Working Mom Spotlight" and asked if she would mind being my guinea pig. My goals, I clearly explained, were to (a) brush up on my interviewing skills, (b) write a decent article for submission and (c) have her pass the link to my article on to everyone she knew so that I could earn a bit of money from it. It was a very nice article, if I may say so myself, and I painted her and her side business in a very positive light.

I have another friend who is mad about fitness. So I offered myself as a guinea pig while she works on getting certification as a personal trainer. After all, I'd like to be a little more fit, and I like hanging out with her. In the interim, she's also helping me declutter my house by taking career clothes out of my closet and a few other odds and ends, too.

I don't think people mind my honesty when I explain the real motives behind certain actions. Maybe that would be a different story if I called up a friend and said something like, "Hey, I just want to gossip about so-and-so and want you to tell me all the bad things you think of her so I can later tell her what you said when she and I get together to gossip about you."

But I'm not that kind of person, anyway.

When I walked in the break room this morning for my daily consumption of milk and coffee (mostly milk with a splash of coffee for flavor, I guess), CNN's bottom ticker said that PETA is asking President Obama to be kinder to flies. Apparently, the President had killed a fly during an interview because said insect was buzzing in his ear. What he should have done, PETA contends, is capture the fly in the room and set it free outside - presumably to live the rest of its hours in peace.

Ugh.

I like PETA. I think, for the most part, it's a good cause. There are, of course, radical crazies in every group that taint the public perception of the rest of the members, but, generally speaking, PETA gets a nod from me. I think animals should be treated ethically. I don't know enough about scientific research to cast an opinion there, but, generally speaking, if testing on animals can be at all avoided, I agree that it should.

There. There's my overall opinion of PETA.

But trying to save flies? Seriously? What are they going to do next - insist that we lower the speed limit to 5 miles per hour so that little bugs don't kamikaze into our grills and windshields?

I live in Florida, where insects probably outnumber humans at least 3 billion to one. About half of those, I'm sure, are flying, and half of those are mosquitoes! Since I (unwillingly) feed several hundred mosquitoes each year, I'm not opposed to killing the little buggers. And I'm not about to apologize for all the bugs I clean off my windshield each day, either.

So, PETA, please find another species to save before you become a total laughingstock. It's hard to take your organization seriously when you make ludicrous statements like these.

I wish I could understand what the fuss is about.

No, I'm not talking about the Lakers trouncing the Magic in the NBA Finals (though, can I just say I'm so glad that is finally over?). I'm talking about listening to my coworkers constantly complain about the temperature in the office.

Here's the deal. The temperature outside is about 98 degrees with 70% humidity. So, yes, it's hot. The temperature inside the office is about 73 degrees, which, last I checked, is significantly cooler.

At 73 degrees, I can still comfortably wear a light hoodie, which pisses people off because I'm actually a little cool. When the temperature drops to 70 degrees, I need a thicker jacket and will plug in my little space heater. And if it's below 68 degrees, my body shuts down and I, entering into a mild state of hypothermia, fall asleep. Cold air, you see, does not keep me awake; it puts me to sleep.

So, here I am, sitting comfortably at work and lamenting the fact that I did not wear socks today because my feet are getting a bit cold, and all I hear around me is constant bitching about the air conditioner (which, judging by the draft I feel on the back of my neck, is actually working quite well).

Ugh.

There's a big event happening in a couple of weeks at work. Well, technically not at work, but it's a work event that's taking place in London.

Anyway.

In better days, there wouldn't have been as big of a focus on sales and inventory levels, blah blah blah. It would have been a big party and, hey - we made money, too? Awesome!

But these are tougher days. Leaner days. And every penny counts these days.

Which is where I come in. I'm the one who gets to provide cost data and retail estimations. My function is kind of like that of a computer program: I do as I'm told. Want to know costs and retail pricing on five items? Done. But if you want to know costs and retail pricing on items that don't exist in the system, you're kind of SOL.

Except that I'm somehow supposed to be a mind-reader. I'm supposed to know what people on the other side of the Atlantic are thinking and doing. I'm supposed to divine meaning from the word "blanket" and come up with a cost and retail price for it.

I have a headache now. And I want to go back to bed.

(Okay, this is totally random unless you've been following my work on Examiner.com, in which I totally geeked out earlier this week and gushed about Project Natal.* But I digress.)

I'm not a huge gamer by any means, but I do have a friend (or three) obsessed with this game. The crazy thing is that you pay to play this game - monthly, even! I'm not entirely sure I would be on board with that, but we do have an XBox Live subscription and, well, it's a formula that seems to be working since there are, like, 11 million people addicted to this game.

So, what are you supposed to do if it's the last day of the month, only you weren't paying attention?

Enter BuyMMOAccounts.com, where you can buy a 60-day subscription for $29.99 and have the game key codes instantly e-mailed to you. It's perfect - no need to go to a store, no need to pause any longer than necessary from your game, blah blah blah.

And if you happen to know someone (or several) who are big WoW players, I think it would make a fine present, too.

* And it's a paid promo.

And my neglected Vox friends! I'm so sorry I've been such a bad neighbor. It's like I went away on vacation and didn't tell anyone, but also neglected to set my sprinklers to at least water the lawn periodically.

Bad, bad Eileen.

Anyway, work has been insanely busy (my real work, that is - the one that actually pays me bi-weekly), and I've been trying to make a go of this Examiner.com bit. For now, the latter is keeping me occupied and giving me a (sort of) paying outlet where I can write about things that irk or impress me about being a mom who leaves the house five days a week to collect a paycheck. (Okay, I write a lot about other mommy-releated stuff, too.) For now, I'm still entertained by the whole thing and devoting a lot of my writing efforts to that.

I have a few blog posts simmering in my little head, and I will probably have to take a day off work to kind of write them out coherently. In the interim, I've been lurking... and enjoying what everyone else has to say!