My New Career – Tree Trimmer II

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I work for county government, and we have lots and lots of job titles. Maintenance Worker II. Garage Worker I. Management Analyst IV. Welder III.

I work in the numbers department as one of those Analysts, but I spend much time working with my agencies on their position counts, moving positions around, reclassifying positions, and the like. So, the other day I came across my dream job.

Tree Trimmer II.

I am not clear about what a Tree Trimmer II does, but I think it sounds good. I am okay with power tools (although I am pretty afraid of the weed whacker). Sometimes when I sit for hours in my cube, tapping away in Excel with one hand and discussing the my agencies on the phone with my other hand, I think it would be nice to be a Tree Trimmer.

My Grandma works at L.L. Bean, so she could fashion me up in clothes suitable for being out in nature trimming trees. You know, some sort of cargo pants for the spring and summer and those flannel-lined jeans for winter. And I bet I get my own set of tree trimming tools.

So, I could spend my day wearing those big headphones that would protect my ears and also prevent me from having to listen to other people. I would probably listen to my iPod. And I would spend all day by myself in the county’s lovely parks deciding how to trim trees. No spreadsheets, calculators, phone calls, e-mails, or use of that Masters degree.

Nope, just me, my trimmer, some trees, and nature.

I am sure it is okay that I have never actually trimmed any trees. I think I can get the hang of it. Fortunately Dan is on board with this idea. Perhaps I can take a whack at the trees in our yard for practice ;-)

Food Affairs

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I am one of those people who can eat the same thing day in and day out for months on end until I become so sick of it that the very thought of the food turns my stomach.

But man, those several month love affairs with my food of the moment are really enjoyable.

When I was a little girl, I loved hot dogs. Yes, hot dogs. I could never get enough hot dogs. My parents said it was my favorite meal, and I wanted to eat hot dogs for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. This must have been a very, very long time ago because I am now 25, and I cannot remember the last time I ate a hot dog. And, to be honest, I am not really that into hot dogs. I must have enjoyed them too much when I was a child that I ate my fill for a lifetime.

And then there was the cereal phase that lasted a good portion of high school and college. My favorite thing to do was mix a variety of cereals into one mega monster cereal meal. Quaker Oatmeal Squares, Granola, Wheat Chex, All Bran, and a sprinkling of Cheerios for good measure. This would be a delicious meal, maybe toss in some banana, too, or walnuts, and presto, a delicious feast to eat out of a bowl, making it also portable.

In college I would make these cereal concoctions in a Styrofoam cup meant for drinks, so I could take my Mega Cereal Creations with me to the library. And I ate these cereal blends semester after semester. You can ask my roommates. I am pretty sure they thought one of these days I was going to turn into Shredded Wheat.

Then I left college and probably because my body ached for something that was, I do not know, maybe from the produce aisle, I launched into salads. Not just any salad. No, no. This was of course of my own creation, and I ate it everyday for lunch for well over a year. It consisted of baby greens, walnuts, raisins, feta cheese, and a blend of balsamic and olive oil. And it was delicious, so delicious. Then, of course, one random day after eating this salad for well over a year, I could not look it in the face again without inducing my gag reflex.

So then I moved on to chickpeas. Yes, chickpeas. I loved them so much, Dan used to buy the 10 pound can of them from Costco. This was bar far my cheapest food obsession as a 10 pound can only costs about $2.00. And what did I do with the chickpeas, you ask? Well, I made another salad ? this time chickpeas, tomatoes, ham, pine nuts, and feta. And of course I proceeded to eat that for well over a year for lunch every single day. It was so scrumptiously filling and so easy to make. (I think part of my food obsessions come to be because I am lazy and not so good in the kitchen, so it has to be only what I can ?assemble.?) In true form I feasted on my chickpea salad until one day at lunch I took one look at it and then decided I could not eat one more chickpea salad if my life depended on it.

I should probably learn by now to diversify my food before I get into another one of my year long+ food obsessions. Does anyone else do this? Do you get sick of something just after a few rounds with it or could you eat it for the foreseeable future? Does anyone else get stuck in these food ruts?

I am getting concerned because I recently discovered Quaker Oat Quakes Rice Cake snacks. They are little rice cakes in just about any flavor you can think of ? apple cinnamon, kettle corn, cheddar cheese, ranch. And they are so, so good. So good I have taken to eat the bag as a lunch. For the past several days. This is how it starts. Before I know it, I will be running to Safeway to load up on these rice cakes to get my fix. No substitutions will do. For now, it is rice cakes or bust. You know, until I eat just one too many, and I never want to see that Quaker Oat symbol ever again.

The $6,000 Dog

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I am pretty sure my family members are single-handedly keeping our local animal hospital in business.

This past weekend featured yet another dog emergency, only this time for my parent?s Golden Retriever, Baron.

Baron, at only about a year and a half old, is one of the craziest dogs I have ever met. Absolutely crazy. It is as if his poor little pea-sized brain is humming overtime with distracting thoughts that keep him buzzed all day long. And he loves people, just loves them. If you leave the room and come back five minutes later, he acts like he has not seen your lovely face in decades.

Another of his favorite pastimes is eating inanimate objects. Mulch, underwear, dirt, and, his favorite, socks. Oh how he loves a good pair of socks. Dirty, clean, women?s, men?s, he is non-discriminatory. He will eat any sock, any time. This does create problems, but usually such things pass on their own, in a manner of speaking.

So, when my Dad called me Saturday morning to tell me Baron vomited more than a college freshmen frat boy after a mixer, I knew he must have stolen something made of cotton-like material and ate it for good measure. But, the x-rays did not show anything abnormal. So they sent him home.

And when I saw him later that day, he was like a totally different animal. He did not even try to assault me when I opened the door to my parent?s house. Usually he is jumping on me and will barely allow entrance inside. But not that night. He just lay around looking pretty sad. We even had pizza lying out on the table, and he made no move to propel himself on the table to gorge on pizza, as is his usual protocol.

Given his uncharacteristic lack of enthusiasm for people and food, my parents took him to the emergency vet clinic Saturday night. Lo and behold, a second set of x-rays found not only a balled up sock in his gut but also a hair tie. This discovery prompted emergency, middle-of-the-night surgery to remove said sock and hair tie. Are you curious to know just how much middle-of-the-night emergency sock and hair tie removal costs? Something to the tune of $6,000.

I am happy to report that the $6,000 dog is recovering and doing well. He went home last night, and he is currently enjoying a bland diet of chicken and rice. I am predicting my parents will institute a ?no socks? rule at their house from now on.

A Scrapbook With A Purpose

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With scrapbooking it seems that 99.9 percent of my failures come from not knowing where to start. I have a slew of pictures, more stamps that a craft aisle at Michaels, a drawer full of Martha Stewart pens and punches, yet I just cannot seem to get anything together.

So, when I read Ali Edward?s post about her <a href="http://aliedwards.typepad.com/a/december-daily-2009-.html”>Daily December scrapbook, I knew I found a perfect vehicle to launch me out of my creative rut and give me some purpose. Ali has been making these Daily December albums for several years, and she encourages scrapbookers to make the foundation pieces for their scrapbooks now. Yes, now. Even before Thanksgiving and Christmas decorations hit the shelves, now. Why now? Because we get too busy later in November and definitely in December to even think about putting together a scrapbook on the go to document the holiday season. So now, before all the holiday shopping and parties and business is definitely a good time.

While I confessed that I am not usually too much into holiday d�cor or stuff, this seemed like the perfect project to jump back in the creative saddle. Something with definite direction. You know, like when you the teacher gave you your essay topic and a small part of you was pleased because that was one less thing for you to think about.

So this past weekend I headed over to Michaels to pick up holiday paper to make my mini holiday book. While I think Ali?s is more fun, I am just glad I got something put together. Ali chooses to chronicle December 1 through December 25, but I think my album will be more of a ?holiday season? sort of thing, featuring pages between middle of November and New Year?s.

When my family or Dan and I do something celebrating the seasons, I can document with pictures, write up a little something, maybe add an embellishment or two, and ? ta da ? a finished page.

Now I cannot wait for some holiday stuff to happen ? I even consented to a Christmas tree. In my house. This is going to be a holiday to remember, for sure.

Our Peg Leg, The TV Star

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Our Belle is a resilient girl. Since her accident, she seems to have grown accustomed to her cast, and we affectionately refer to her as ?peg leg.? Argh! She is all set for Halloween.

So Dan brought her to the vet yesterday afternoon for a re-wrap, and a Channel 7 crew was there interviewing the staff and dog owners about the canine flu vaccine. And our little peg leg and my handsome husband were featured on the segment. They are towards the end ? Dan is explaining how Belle does not need the vaccine because we are not boarding her, and the extent of her movements are between the Macys couch, her food dish, and our front yard due to the leg injury.

Now Dan and Belle think they are super special because they were on TV. Belle especially enjoyed her few minutes of fame and wants all media inquiries directed to her agent ;-)

Some Thoughts On Thursday

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Last night I had a dream I went back to high school. At age 25. I ended up in some bogus math class I am pretty sure I could never pass now or at age 16, and I tried to tell the teacher I graduated some time ago and was not longer in need of her services. I had a husband, a full time job, a house, a dog, tax payments, and pretty much everything else associated with having left high school. Talk about a nightmare.

I have been pining for powdered donuts this entire week. Yes, those mini white dusty donuts you get at the grocery in cardboard boxes that look like they have been sitting on the shelf since 1998. Those powdered donuts. Oh, and also Swiss Rolls. I have not had a powdered donut in over a decade yet I have had to resist the urge to attack the Little Debbie and Entenmanns?s displays at the grocery with all my willpower.

Every so often I try to convince Dan I should retire. I tried again this week to no avail. For some reason, he thinks 25 is too young for me to head to retirement. I, on the other hand, know I will be a great retiree. I love to wake up early, I am totally cool with eating dinner at 5:00 p.m. (or even 4:30 p.m.!), and I am pretty awesome at BINGO. Dan says he does not dispute these qualities of mine but he cannot get over how I would no longer be earning an income. Hmm?maybe I need to get serious about those BINGO games with cash prizes?

I am obsessed with the Barefoot Contessa, and I think I have a great idea for her show. She could run an extended series where she teaches her new friend, that would be me, how to cook. These segments would provide endless entertainment for the audience. Plus, I could finally meet Barefoot Contessa and become her best friend. I know I would be awesome as her sidekick. Sadly, her Web site says she is not currently accepting new friends :-(

I think work would be better if I only had to work four days a week and always had a three-day weekend. This would increase my moral 1000 fold. Even more than when I got that other monitor. I think other people would agree. I bet we would all be so happy that we only had to drag ourselves through four days instead of five that productivity and office happiness would increase by at least 30 percent. You know, if this came to be, I might even push back my retirement plans ;-)

Sarah 2.0, Now With 100 Percent More Happiness

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This morning I received another monitor at work, so now I have DUAL monitors. DUAL MONITORS!

This probably seems lame to all of you who have been working off of two monitors for months or even years. But this is a big deal to me because here in Public Sector Central, we only get ?new? things after they have become obsolete. It?s just how we roll.

My monitors are far from the same size and quality. One is newer and slicker and the other, while at least a flat screen, sort of looks like circa 2000. But, whatever, I am not complaining. Around here we use whatever it is we have, and we seemed to have a crop of these extra monitors from people who vacated or what not.

So now I have a second monitor, and it is loads of fun to drag applications to the other screen rather than hunting and pecking around for whatever it is I need. It is pretty sweet, and supposedly, a study found it helps people work about 18 percent faster. While 18 percent is pretty huge, I found it also makes me 100 happier. It is like Sarah, Version 2.0.

If Sarah Rosemary Had A Farm…

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The extent of my farm experiences included occasional petting zoos and the one time my third grade class watched the milk production process on a farm field trip. I am pretty sure none of us drank milk for the remainder of third grade.

So, no, I suppose I am not much of a farm girl, but I am up for a challenge, so my two other girlfriends and I headed up to Larriland Farm in Maryland this weekend for apple picking.

Talk about nature. It is amazing how just an hour away changes the landscape. The farm had that earth smell and huge brightly colored trees lining the property. First we hunted for several varieties of apples ? Granny Smith, Enterprise, Sun Crisps. It was quite a treat to pluck your own apple straight from the vine instead of hunting through the bruised and battered apple displays at the grocery. And these apple were mega apples, not those little tiny things from the grocery but bigger than the palm of your hand variety. We all filled up two bags worth of meaty apples and headed on over to the pumpkin patch.

I suppose I knew that pumpkins grew on a vine, but actually seeing the rows of pumpkins was another thing entirely. Some were speckled with green, there were a bunch of white varieties, and, of course, traditional orange.

The farm also had broccoli, and, to be honest, I had no idea how that stuff grew. It is sort of like a plant and the broccoli stems are in the middle, sort of like the flower part. And you use a knife to cut the broccoli out of the plant. Who knew? Not me. Clearly, this trip taught me much about how food grows, which is probably something I should have learned back on that third grade farm field trip.

After feeling like farmers and scouring for our own goods, we waited in a 70-person deep line for apple fritters. I had to confess I never had an apple fritter before, but it was worth the wait. It was hot a flaky and definitely not stingy on the powdered sugar.

So now I have 16 pounds of apples, a lopsided pumpkin, and three funky gourds. Since now I have seen how things grow, perhaps I should think about a career change. I could be a farmer. Seems like fun. I am already good at the getting up early part. I just need a tutorial in the how-things-grow department ;-)

I Probably Should Be Over This By Now

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When I was a kid, Halloween really freaked me out.

Leading up to Halloween, I would get excited about wearing one of my many princess-themed costumes to school. You know, back when school was fun and you had parties for actually holidays and you could dress up, before administrators freaked and decided students might have too much fun and canceled the whole thing in favor of non-descript, no festive attire, generic for one hour in the afternoon party? Oh, and do not even think about bringing in anything containing peanut butter. Or milk products. So we feasted on pretzels.

Anyway, I thought that was all well and good, pretending to be a princess during the day with the lights on.

But, on the actual Halloween day, forget it. When I was about six, I remember refusing to put on my super cute angel costume, complete with wand, that my mother made for me, and instead hiding under the table whenever one of those groups of dressed up kids rang the doorbell.

My parents would say, Oh, Sarah, come look, it is not scary, this kid is dressed up as a lamb, and oh, how cute, a toddler wearing a pumpkin suit. A toddler, Sarah! A little baby!?

Nope, no way, cannot fool me. That toddler could have turned into one scary devil pumpkin or who knows what. There are all sorts of scary movies featuring babies and little kids. I was no fool, and I was not coming out for anything.

As I got older, I got slightly less scared. But pretty much only slightly. Not even the draw of King Sized Reece?s Peanut Butter Cups could get me to go anywhere close to a spooky looking house.

So now I am 25 and I am totally unafraid of a whole lost of ?scary stuff,? like spiders and other assorted bugs and noises at night when I am home alone and taxes and driving on I66. But trick or treating? No thanks. You go on ahead. Eat all the candy for me. And beware of those toddlers dressed up as pumpkins.

Attention, Stealer at the Self Check Out

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Where I live, there just seems to be no good time to go to the grocery. I suppose maybe the middle of the night would be pretty good, but I am just not willing to go that far.

So pretty much any other normal time of day, one goes to the grocery at one?s own risk. Even before you get inside, you put your life in danger just trying to park the car. No one looks when backing out, no one cares that you had your blinker on, parking almost sideways so no one can park next to you is common.

If you manage to make it through the parking lot, it just gets worse inside. People drive their carts like they do their cars, abandoning them in the middle of the aisle. Knocking into other people and sneering instead of apologizing for smashing my feet while careening their carts around corners.

So, I try to avoid going to the grocery too many times in one week and at any sort of peak time, like Saturday morning. But, I decided I really really really wanted a certain brand of oatmeal, and I wanted it so badly I was willing to drive myself in the rain to the local menace of a grocery to get this oatmeal.

And it was bad, and I am pretty sure I almost died at least five times before making it to the check out. Since I had three items, I figured I would do self check out. I got behind a girl who had one thing ? a box of Epsom salt. I thought I hit the grocery jackpot. I thought it would be the fastest check out experience of my life.

And I thought wrong.

The girl in front of me was waiting for the bumbling man in front of her to finish packing up his groceries. So we watched him finish up his bumbling bagging approach and totter away. And, to our horror, the check out screen was flashing and asking for payment. Payment? What payment? Neither the girl nor I had scanned anything yet.

And then that?s when we realized bumbling man did not pay. And he just walked out.

So, I flagged down a grocery worker to explain our problem. That the bill for $57.60 was not for this girl?s box of Epsom salt. That that bumbling man bagged up this stuff and WALKED OUT!

Well, the grocery man was pretty mad, but he unblocked the system, so the girl and I could proceed. And as I dogged cars in the parking lot, I realized that now not only is the grocery pretty much the worst place on earth, people blatantly use the self check out to steal. Now, I do not know if he meant to steal, but whatever the case, some people should not be aloud to use self check out. Or come to the grocery at all. Ugh, maybe I should give up and have my stuff delivered.