Capture Christmas

I found this post today at QuietFish that had a fun challenge to capture Christmas: take a picture each hour during your day on Christmas to capture your celebration. If you want to participate, feel free to head over to QuietFish and let her know that you will be participating. I look forward to seeing everyone's posts. Let me know if you are going to participate as well so that I can peek into how you celebrate Christmas.

Christmas for Munchkin

We have been a bit lax with Munchkin's Christmas presents this year. We have seen something that we want to give her for Christmas, and since she goes everywhere with us, she normally sees us purchase the gifts. In fact, she usually plays with her Christmas gifts while she is sitting in the cart so that we can keep her occupied in the store. I don't know if other kids are like this, but Munchkin does not like riding in a cart where she can't be facing forward.

Here is an example. Munchkin loves getting Wifey's clutch out of the diaper bag. It has so many interesting cards, pictures, and pockets that it is quite irresistible. The bright red color also helps Munchkin to quickly locate it. We happened to find a smaller wallet for her the other day. She grabbed it from us and started opening up all the pockets and sticking her fingers inside. It was a winner, and being close to the same red color as Wifey's clutch, we were hoping that her imagination would go a long way.

To add to the illusion, we went through our wallets and took out all the old cards that we don't need. We came up with enough to fill up the small wallet, and now Munchkin has her own little wallet that was supposed to be a stocking stuffer, but she still plays with it. It is still going to be a stocking stuffer, but she won't be as surprised when it comes out of her stocking on Christmas morning.

While the surprise factor has worn off, we did find a way to use all those old cards (and any subsequent credit card offers that might come our way).

Variation on a Theme: Loud Mouth VI

Wrinkly Rena

The last Loud Mouth currently works about two cubes down from me, so I have to be quiet. OK, she has no idea that I blog, so she has no idea that this post will be about her.

When I first started working with this woman, I thought she was in her mid-fifties. She walked very carefully, complained frequently about back problems, and didn't think twice about letting others know of her daily work woes. I worked wither her every once in a while, but until I recently brought it upon myself to demystify some internet mumbo-jubmo at work that no one else wanted to take the time to demystify, I didn't have to worry about hearing about her woes.

Then we moved, and because we both worked on the same mumbo-jumbo (she is in charge of inputting the rules that drive the mumbo-jumbo), we were strategically placed relatively close. While this is convenient, it has also become a bit of a distraction.

You see, Wrinkly Rena's mother is at the point where she needs some additional help and can no longer live by herself. This means that Wrinkly Rena (and slothful siblings) are spending their time trying to get their aging mother comfortable in her new location while going through everything in her house and consolidating. There have been some interesting things I have learned about antique costume jewelery, cars, and her family, but I don't think I was supposed to learn these things. (I did learn on purpose that Wrinkly Rena is only in her early 40's.)

Wrinkly Rena has a very good friend that she shares a cube with. Because they are such good friends, they share a lot with each other. Wrinkly Rena's sharing generally happens at a volume that is not in a confidential tone. There are times when I roll my chair back and look at my co-workers just so I can see their reactions to the TMI that is going on over the wall. Generally I am greeted with wide-eyed deer-in-the-headlights type looks, accompanied with a bit of a grimace. Other times, we end up putting our headphones on and turning up the volume so that we can meet our deadline.

While Wrinkly Rena is quite competent at what she does, I often wonder if she knows how much of her conversations we actually overhear. Being in the middle of the row, I think that a lot of people don't have to ask her personal questions, because they get the answers to everything they want to know (and a whole lot more) without ever having to ask.

Variation on a Theme: Loud Mouth V

Mr. Eleven

The person who fought the most with Hacky was someone who was about 135 degrees away from her, should you have drawn a circle around me. His name is Mr. Eleven because he only had one volume level.

I would have loved to hear Mr. Eleven sing. He had a very rich baritone/bass voice that carried quite well. I think—considering that he wasn't tone deaf— that he would have probably been a pretty desirable singer. His voice had great resonance, and I am pretty sure he could get some of those low notes with power.

The problem was the fact that his primary responsibility was to offer phone assistance to corporate customers. This meant that he was on the phone for most of the day. When I first moved into my location, I found myself standing up and trying to discreetly locate him by his voice. I thought that he was standing over the wall from my cube where the community printers were located to pick up a print job while talking on the phone. When I would stand up, there wouldn't be anyone there.

I finally caught his lips moving one day while I was coming back from a leisurely lunchtime walk. I was amazed to find that he was across the aisle from me, as well as three cubes in. This means that his voice was generally carrying out of the top of his cube, over two other (very patient) people, past the twelve-foot aisle, and over my cube wall.

Yeah, Mr. Eleven is right.

He didn't bother me after a while. I just got so that I could drown out his raspy voice. It became kind of cathartic at times when I was on a call that was completely dis-interesting, or when something was being explained for the fourth time (because at least one person who should have been listening the first two times didn't start listening until the third time, and then proceeded to ask questions that were asked the first time, leaving the presenter no choice but to think that the rest of us on the call were completely lost).

Getting Coal in Your Stocking?

There are those out there who have been naughty this year. You know who you are. You might have done any of the things in the famous song "Somebody Snitched on Me," or maybe you were original and did some other nasty things that weren't listed there.

If you fit into the previous category, then the Onion is going to be your friend this year. You can let Santa know that, due to budget limitations, your stocking will not be accepting coal this year.

And it is probably best that you don't get some coal for Christmas anyway. Read this story by Lemony Snicket to figure out why.


Do you really want this guy creeping around your house?

Full of Surprises

Last night, Wifey was feeling a bit bored. She had recently finished reading a handful of books that she really enjoyed (including the complete Harry Potter series and selections from the Anne of Green Gables series). She was in a reading mood, so I encouraged her to look through some of the old books that I had loved as a kid that are sitting there on the shelf, eagerly waiting to be read by our kids.

I read a lot of Lynne Reid Banks books as a kid. I was fascinated with the Indian in the Cupboard series. It got a little bit boring after the third or fourth iteration, but I liked the way the author wrote, so I started picking up a few other books of her's from the library.

As Wifey was browsing the selection of tween literature, she came across this little gem:

The Fairy Rebel by Lynne Reid Banks

I'm pretty sure that Wifey was influenced by the picture on the front. The idea of a girl with Fairies flitting around her can be pretty appealing to a woman in her mid-twenties. She set the book down to get some other stuff ready before she nestled down into the book, and that is when I noticed it.

There was something between the pages of the book.

That something happened to be seven whole dollars.

I am sure that I had hidden this money away from prying eyes to get at a later date. I can distinctly remember putting money in books that I thought my brother wouldn't look at, just in case he went rummaging through my things for money.

These seven dollars were probably quite a bit to me back then. I had a job that made me a whole $20 a month where I would go feed my neighbor's horses. They had two (Bucky and Tradzoan) that weren't the most patient of horses, but they offered me an opportunity to make a bit of money. I saved about 75% of what I made, hoarding my money in the bank or in my books.

It seems like I forgot some of the hiding locations as I grew older. Maybe I'll have to thumb through all the old books I have on the shelf to see if I can't make some more...

Variation on a Theme: Loud Mouth IV

Hacky

In my current workplace, I used to work in another building on campus. There was a woman who sat three double-rows away from me, but that didn't stop her from being the resident Loud Mouth.

I believe that Hacky was a smoker. She could often be heard having coughing fits. Most time the coughing fits would come, I could swear that everyone around her needed a biohazard suit. From three double-rows away, I could hear the rattle of phlegm in her lungs, as well as the wet spittle flying from her lips. I was surprised that I never heard anyone walk over and exclaim, "I need a medic. Hacky has officially coughed up a lung!"

I could picture her lying prone on her desk, eyes glazed over, fingers twitching uncontrollably. At least one of her lungs would be protruding from her mouth, heaving in and out while trying to assimilate the air around it.

The worst part about Hacky is that these attacks happened multiple times a day. It was never just an every-so-often thing—it was a regular (and sometimes hourly) occurrence.