As most of you know, I LOVE shoes.
And then a couple of weeks ago, I began to have pain in the ball of my right foot. At first, I didn't think it was too serious. Until I began to limp. Noticeably.
Then, of course, I turned to WebMD (What's that you say? GO to the doctor? Pshaw. What do you think the Internet is for??!). Which then informed me that I either needed to have my foot amputated or that I was suffering from Metatarsalgia, which one of the causes are footwear. OF COURSE, it is.
I will admit that I do not wear heels - particularly really high heels - on an every day basis any more. Nowadays, my heels are usually no more than 2-3 inches high. But, I do wear them several times a week. Maybe throwing in some of the higher ones about once a week...if I'm feeling the need for some confidence.
Yes. I will also admit that I feel more confident, more "able," if you will, to deal with stressful situations if I'm in a killer pair of heels. (Please tell me that I'm not the only one with this issue!)
Flats, no matter how pretty or cute, do not give me that same sense of....what's the word I'm looking for?...kick-assery? At least not at work.
At any rate, for the past week and a half, I've been wearing flats, eschewing even sandals, because of the lack of support and because of the whole self-tanning debacle of 2015. And my feet felt fine.
Which leads me to today. Today I wore an outfit that decreed that I needed heels. Not only that, I didn't have an option, as I didn't have any flats that worked with this outfit. So I elected to wear a nude, 1 1/2 inch heel. How bad could it be?
Not too bad actually. Until...I came home and took those teeny-tiny heels. And my foot exploded with pain.
Am I doomed to a lifetime of flats? Yes, there are worse things. This I know. But...shoes. Confidence. These are things I need.
I've decided to give myself another week or so of flat wearing - which, may necessitate some shopping (which, while we are on the subject...honestly? Is it just me or is everything out there right now just "meh?") for some outfits that will work with flats - before I try the heels again. And, if that doesn't go well I may just have to take myself off to the doctor to figure out how to rectify this GIANT (albeit, only GIANT to me) problem.
April 28, 2015
April 27, 2015
Losing my mind...one day at a time.
Yesterday I bought my husband a surprise. One of those tiny, grow your own basil kits.
I figured he is always complaining about how quickly fresh basil goes bad in the fridge, that this way he could always have fresh basil.
Shortly after presenting him with his "gift," I set it on the counter to deal with later.
Tonight, the Husband was in the kitchen and I was in the dining room and we were discussing something (what we were discussing, who knows? This will become pertinent later.) and I noticed that the kit was missing. I asked him what he did with it. He replied that he didn't know what I was talking about. I reminded him of his "habit" of hiding things when he "cleans."
He couldn't recall touching the kit. I reminded him of how well he cleaned the kitchen last night. Surely, he put the kit somewhere?
After he determined that this mystery was going to drive me crazy, he joined me in my quest to find the kit. We opened all the cabinets. We searched the fridge. We looked in the garage. We looked in the living area. We looked in the china cabinet. We looked in the printer cabinet. We looked on top of the fridge.
The kit was nowhere to be found.
We were befuddled.
I determined that this would remain a mystery. Much like the missing steak knife and the missing one quarter measuring cup; both of which have been missing for MONTHS.
And then I wandered into our bedroom.
And, lo and behold! There was the kit. Sitting next to the orchid near the window. And, viola! I remembered.
At some point last night, I put the kit together and set the pot in the window...and then totally forgot about it. Totally forgot about it to the point that I was:
A) accusing the Husband of throwing out the kit; or
B) accusing the Husband of hiding the kit; or
C) confident that someone had crept into our house and stealing our kit; or
D) we had a ghost who was playing pranks.
To be honest, at one point, I was putting money on the ghost; because the thought of someone creeping into our house and stealing the kit would have insured that I never slept well in this place again.
Needless to say, this has given the Husband plenty of material with which to tease me. *sigh*
I may never live this one down.
Now, if only I can figure out where the measuring cup and the steak knife wandered off to....
I figured he is always complaining about how quickly fresh basil goes bad in the fridge, that this way he could always have fresh basil.
Shortly after presenting him with his "gift," I set it on the counter to deal with later.
Tonight, the Husband was in the kitchen and I was in the dining room and we were discussing something (what we were discussing, who knows? This will become pertinent later.) and I noticed that the kit was missing. I asked him what he did with it. He replied that he didn't know what I was talking about. I reminded him of his "habit" of hiding things when he "cleans."
He couldn't recall touching the kit. I reminded him of how well he cleaned the kitchen last night. Surely, he put the kit somewhere?
After he determined that this mystery was going to drive me crazy, he joined me in my quest to find the kit. We opened all the cabinets. We searched the fridge. We looked in the garage. We looked in the living area. We looked in the china cabinet. We looked in the printer cabinet. We looked on top of the fridge.
The kit was nowhere to be found.
We were befuddled.
I determined that this would remain a mystery. Much like the missing steak knife and the missing one quarter measuring cup; both of which have been missing for MONTHS.
And then I wandered into our bedroom.
And, lo and behold! There was the kit. Sitting next to the orchid near the window. And, viola! I remembered.
At some point last night, I put the kit together and set the pot in the window...and then totally forgot about it. Totally forgot about it to the point that I was:
A) accusing the Husband of throwing out the kit; or
B) accusing the Husband of hiding the kit; or
C) confident that someone had crept into our house and stealing our kit; or
D) we had a ghost who was playing pranks.
To be honest, at one point, I was putting money on the ghost; because the thought of someone creeping into our house and stealing the kit would have insured that I never slept well in this place again.
Needless to say, this has given the Husband plenty of material with which to tease me. *sigh*
I may never live this one down.
Now, if only I can figure out where the measuring cup and the steak knife wandered off to....
April 22, 2015
Lesson learned. The hard way...as usual.
As we all know, Spring has sprung...well, for most of us anyway. Let's not even TALK about the fact that the "April showers bring May flowers" saying is proving to be true this year.
With Spring comes the time when most of us put away the tights and boots and prepare to show our bare legs to the world. Until...we realize that our legs are pasty white and not really ready to show to the world.
So, those of us who care about such things, turn to self tanning products. Which, surprisingly, seem to work fairly well.
As you can probably surmise from the previous paragraphs, I have been self tanning for the past couple of days; with great results, i.e., I haven't blinded anyone with pasty, white legs yet.
Until...one day I happened to look down at my feet as I was getting dressed. And there was some kind of weird looking "tan" triangle on my feet. It took me a minute, or ten, to realize what had happened.
Every day I would slap the self tanner on my legs AND the tops of my feet; and then proceed to get dressed...and put my ballet-shoe type slippers. I usually wait to put on my shoes until I am walking out the door.
Apparently, no matter how "dry" you think the lotion is, the skirt or pants aren't "hugging" the body quite like the slippers do...
Which pretty much means that I cannot continue to self-tan OR wear sandals until my initial "tan" fades. Because, yeah, it's THAT noticeable; my husband even said (without me mentioning it) "Your feet look weird." *sigh*
With Spring comes the time when most of us put away the tights and boots and prepare to show our bare legs to the world. Until...we realize that our legs are pasty white and not really ready to show to the world.
So, those of us who care about such things, turn to self tanning products. Which, surprisingly, seem to work fairly well.
As you can probably surmise from the previous paragraphs, I have been self tanning for the past couple of days; with great results, i.e., I haven't blinded anyone with pasty, white legs yet.
Until...one day I happened to look down at my feet as I was getting dressed. And there was some kind of weird looking "tan" triangle on my feet. It took me a minute, or ten, to realize what had happened.
Every day I would slap the self tanner on my legs AND the tops of my feet; and then proceed to get dressed...and put my ballet-shoe type slippers. I usually wait to put on my shoes until I am walking out the door.
Apparently, no matter how "dry" you think the lotion is, the skirt or pants aren't "hugging" the body quite like the slippers do...
Which pretty much means that I cannot continue to self-tan OR wear sandals until my initial "tan" fades. Because, yeah, it's THAT noticeable; my husband even said (without me mentioning it) "Your feet look weird." *sigh*
April 15, 2015
Work stuff...or; WHY are people SO unhelpful? Or, even better, How To Be A Nicer Person.
Life has been extraordinarily crazy at work lately. I mean CRAZY. Crazy to the point that it seems to be the only conversation that I am capable of lately; much to my family's chagrin. Crazy to the point that it seems to be the only thoughts that I have. Crazy to the point that seems it seems to be invading my dreams. This is a major problem because I don't usually HAVE dreams; or if I do, I never remember them.
That may partially explain why it is SO dusty around here lately...partially.
But today? What happened today needed to be mentioned.
I received a call from the Finance Department today. I was informed that "the letter" that NEEDED to be delivered ASAP is floating around in the United States Postal Office somewhere. Or, more likely, floating around the immense company that it was sent to; who knows. The person on the other end of the line told me that she'd called the immense company to find out the status of the letter. Somehow, miracle of miracles, she actually touched based with a direct report of the person the letter was directed to. She mentioned that this person informed her that his boss is actually located in London and not New York (which was where the letter was sent).
Did this person offer up an email address (his boss' or his)? No. Did this person offer up a physical address in London - of which this company has several? No. Did this person even offer up that the letter should be sent to him and that he would forward it? No.
WHY?!
I get not giving out email addresses; I really, really do. I don't give out the email addresses of ANYONE I work with...period. But if someone had called me with this dilemma I would have at least given the correct mailing address. Particularly knowing WHY this letter had to be delivered.
This is not the only instance where people aren't helpful...particularly lately. And I want it to go on record that I am VEHEMENTLY opposed to this trend.
If you know how to assist the person asking for help; do it. Is that SO very difficult? No.
This type of attitude is so very pervasive in today's society (think about customer service. Have you been on the receiving end of GOOD customer service lately? If so, write the company and tell them what a good job they are doing. If not, write the company and tell them how much they suck...they can't improve if they don't know what they are doing wrong) and it needs to stop.
Not just because *I* am being inconvenienced but because it's the right thing to do.
So, being me, I Googled the company, gave my co-worker a link with all the London addresses/phone numbers and advised her to call one. Maybe the person she talked to could direct her where to send the letter.
After this (latest event) here are my rules for the world.
1. Help where you can help. You don't have to give up the keys to the kingdom, but if you can assist the person on the other end of the line; do so.
2. If you can't help - be willing to listen to the other person's complaint. Ninety-nine percent of the time that's all they want...to have someone listen.
3. Be nice.
4. Think of other people. Certainly, there have been times when you've needed help. Think about what you appreciate the most...odds are good what you appreciate the most is the people who respond. When you send an email asking for help with X, Y, and Z and the person responds either immediately with the information OR saying, I'll be glad to help but I it might take me some time to respond...and then they actually respond with the information you requested. Seriously, how hard is that? OR they respond telling you that they can't help, but So And So can surely help.
5. Again...just be nice. And willing to go that extra mile. Really, it doesn't take that much of your time.
That may partially explain why it is SO dusty around here lately...partially.
But today? What happened today needed to be mentioned.
I received a call from the Finance Department today. I was informed that "the letter" that NEEDED to be delivered ASAP is floating around in the United States Postal Office somewhere. Or, more likely, floating around the immense company that it was sent to; who knows. The person on the other end of the line told me that she'd called the immense company to find out the status of the letter. Somehow, miracle of miracles, she actually touched based with a direct report of the person the letter was directed to. She mentioned that this person informed her that his boss is actually located in London and not New York (which was where the letter was sent).
Did this person offer up an email address (his boss' or his)? No. Did this person offer up a physical address in London - of which this company has several? No. Did this person even offer up that the letter should be sent to him and that he would forward it? No.
WHY?!
I get not giving out email addresses; I really, really do. I don't give out the email addresses of ANYONE I work with...period. But if someone had called me with this dilemma I would have at least given the correct mailing address. Particularly knowing WHY this letter had to be delivered.
This is not the only instance where people aren't helpful...particularly lately. And I want it to go on record that I am VEHEMENTLY opposed to this trend.
If you know how to assist the person asking for help; do it. Is that SO very difficult? No.
This type of attitude is so very pervasive in today's society (think about customer service. Have you been on the receiving end of GOOD customer service lately? If so, write the company and tell them what a good job they are doing. If not, write the company and tell them how much they suck...they can't improve if they don't know what they are doing wrong) and it needs to stop.
Not just because *I* am being inconvenienced but because it's the right thing to do.
So, being me, I Googled the company, gave my co-worker a link with all the London addresses/phone numbers and advised her to call one. Maybe the person she talked to could direct her where to send the letter.
After this (latest event) here are my rules for the world.
1. Help where you can help. You don't have to give up the keys to the kingdom, but if you can assist the person on the other end of the line; do so.
2. If you can't help - be willing to listen to the other person's complaint. Ninety-nine percent of the time that's all they want...to have someone listen.
3. Be nice.
4. Think of other people. Certainly, there have been times when you've needed help. Think about what you appreciate the most...odds are good what you appreciate the most is the people who respond. When you send an email asking for help with X, Y, and Z and the person responds either immediately with the information OR saying, I'll be glad to help but I it might take me some time to respond...and then they actually respond with the information you requested. Seriously, how hard is that? OR they respond telling you that they can't help, but So And So can surely help.
5. Again...just be nice. And willing to go that extra mile. Really, it doesn't take that much of your time.
April 5, 2015
Happy Easter! (or as I like to call it...today, at least, the EPIC battle...)
Currently, I'm at war with myself.
Why? I'm glad you asked.
I've been dealing with something lately. Something that is, I have a sneaking suspicion, a sinus infection. How, you must be wondering, have I come to this conclusion? Easy.
For the last several mornings I have been waking to an extremely sore jaw. But only on one side. The side I tend to sleep on. This, coupled with the discovery that Sudafed AND Benedryl taken in combination, is the only thing that gives me relief led to this conclusion (and, you should know, I asked the Internet...it said it was okay. If you tell me different, I'll never forgive you.).
I had hoped it would clear itself up. It hasn't. Every morning I find myself waking up earlier and earlier because of the pain. And maybe because I have to go to the bathroom. And then realizing I'm in pain.
Whatever.
But after last night (this morning)...which found me awake at 5:00 am and unable to go back to sleep; I have promised myself...tomorrow I call the doctor. The doctor that I don't have because I jumped ship after the misdiagnoses of the century.
Okay. Fine. I'll call my husband's doctor. If I'm still in pain tomorrow.
Dammit. I'm exhausted.
Happy Easter.
Why? I'm glad you asked.
I've been dealing with something lately. Something that is, I have a sneaking suspicion, a sinus infection. How, you must be wondering, have I come to this conclusion? Easy.
For the last several mornings I have been waking to an extremely sore jaw. But only on one side. The side I tend to sleep on. This, coupled with the discovery that Sudafed AND Benedryl taken in combination, is the only thing that gives me relief led to this conclusion (and, you should know, I asked the Internet...it said it was okay. If you tell me different, I'll never forgive you.).
I had hoped it would clear itself up. It hasn't. Every morning I find myself waking up earlier and earlier because of the pain. And maybe because I have to go to the bathroom. And then realizing I'm in pain.
Whatever.
But after last night (this morning)...which found me awake at 5:00 am and unable to go back to sleep; I have promised myself...tomorrow I call the doctor. The doctor that I don't have because I jumped ship after the misdiagnoses of the century.
Okay. Fine. I'll call my husband's doctor. If I'm still in pain tomorrow.
Dammit. I'm exhausted.
Happy Easter.
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