Mousecapades....the saga

Today there will be a different format for the blog post.  My friend EM (of Epic Escapades) and I went to a show. Then, an odd thing that happened to us after the show.  We have found though, in the course of telling this story, that our approaches to this adventure were vastly different.  Hence, this post is being told from both of our points of view.


To avoid confusion my pov is prefaced by BR and hers will be prefaced by EM


Ready?

Ok

 Setting the scene:  We are alone, in a parking lot of a strip mall.  It is well after 10pm and there is really no one else about. Bella Rachel’s car was parked here during the show and so I have parked my car in the spot directly to the left of hers.

EM: After the show, but us, being us, we never just say goodnight and then leave.  We had to sit there and discuss everything and anything ranging from the show to …well anything.  I had pulled up next to her car, so that eventually when we decided it was time to go home, it was not very far to go.

As we were talking I saw some movement in the passenger seat behind Rachel’s head.  Totally forgetting that this was her car I said,” I think there is a dog in that car”.

Without even blinking she says, “There is no dog in that car.  That is my car”.

“Oh, that’s right,” I said thinking, “How funny that I forgot that I parked next to her car not even 10 minutes ago”..and we went back to talking.

A few moments later I thought I saw some more movement and I said, “I swear something is moving in that car….I think you have a ghost”.

“What?” she exclaimed, “There is no ghost in my car”.

“Well, something is moving in that car”.

“No”, she said patiently (and a little slowly as if I big words might be confusing), “It’s just the lights from the cars that are turning in and out of the parking lot”.

“Huh...that makes sense”, I said.

BR: Why is the logical next step from dog in the car, a ghost in the car? Do you see why I felt that big words might be a little difficult at the moment?

EM: While I concede that lights is most logical as an explanation, since you made it abundantly clear that there was no animal in your car, ghost was the next thing to pop in my mind.

Moving on….

We continue to talk and I see the movement again and this time I see that it is not a ghost or a dog; it is a mouse …in her car!

“Um…there is a mouse in your car”, I said slowly.  I was also trying hard not to let the smile in to the sound of my voice.  Cause, really?  How did this happen? And it’s hilarious (Said in sing song voice...go ahead, it’s fun)

“What?!?!?” she squeaked and turned around to see, probably holding out hope that I am lying.  And there is the mouse, stretching out in all his mousey glory, as he tried to see how tall he could get as he looked out the window of her car.

BR: It’s true. For a split second, I fully believed that EM was lying to me to fuck with me. I also deny that I “squeaked”.

EM:  She totally squeaked

Bella Rachel turns to me, with an accusatory stare and tone and says, “These kinds of things never happened to me before I met you!”

“What? I had nothing to do with this!” I said in disbelief.

“These kinds of things only happened to me AFTER I met you!”

“This is NOT my fault!” I said, in between giggles, but trying to look affronted at the implication that this is somehow my fault.

BR: I still believe that the mouse is EM’s fault. Before EM, no mice in my car. After EM, there is a mouse in my car. See the correlation? And you vehemently telling me that this was NOT your fault is decidedly unconvincing when you are giggling uncontrollably.

EM:  That is terrible logic.  

“There cannot be a mouse in my car!  I am afraid of mice”, she wailed, “So he can’t be in my car”. (best logic ever, I am afraid of it so it can’t be)

“Ok, then let us get him out of your car”, I said and opened my door, totally failing at trying not to giggle cause this sh*t was funny.

BR: I maintain that I neither wailed nor squeaked.

I did say, “I cannot drive my car with a mouse in it. If he stays there, we have to leave my car here and I will be coming home with you. Or, we can trade cars and I will return your car once mine no longer has a mouse in it.”

EM, not particularly liking either of those ideas, managed to stop laughing hysterically long enough to say, “Well, ok, give me your keys.” She proceeded to open all the doors to my car, in hopes that the mouse would scamper out of its own accord.

I, of course, could go nowhere near my car. I was the absolute picture of a distressed woman.

EM: Complete picture of a distressed woman?  I’m glad no one in this post is being over dramatic  or anything.

BR: I’M over dramatic? Hi, Pot, my name is Kettle.

However, not all was lost! We are both married to manly men. Surely, one of them has an idea of how to remove said mouse from my car. Yes?

While EM called her husband, I texted mine. He had been imbibing throughout the evening and his most recent text said, “Are you coming home soon?” I responded with, “I would love to come home, but there’s a mouse in my car.” Now, my husband is well aware of my fear/hatred of mice. I expected an appropriately shocked response and an immediate inquiry into my mental state and well being. What I received, however, was “Oh noes!” Followed shortly by, “I promise it won’t crawl up your leg and bite you while you drive.”

…..

Yes, he said that. Fail on the husband front.

So, EM decides that leaving all of the doors open and blaring the radio is the best plan to scare the mouse out. Not having a better suggestion, I stood as far away from car as I possibly could while still being near it. As I continued to pace the area and restate that I could not possibly drive my car while there was a mouse in it, we waited for a few moments and nothing happened.

Finally, EM came up with a brilliant plan. We would turn off the radio, close up the car, and roll down the one window where this mouse had previously been spotted. We would then sit in her car and wait for the mouse to come to the window again.

At this point we were coming to terms with absurdity of our situation and began posting on Twitter and Facebook what we were going through. Suffice it to say, our friends were no more helpful than our husbands. EM thought to Google ways to get a mouse out of a car. Those suggestions were…kind of worthless.

EM: Google suggestions:  Get a cat, drown it in a bucket of water, cover something in peanut butter....

BR: The way you wrote those suggestions, it sounds like steps...

EM: Fine

Suggestion 1: Get a Cat
Suggestion 2: Drown it in a bucket of water
Suggestion 3:Cover something in peanut butter

BR: Love you!!!! :)

Anyway, we continued chatting and waiting for the mouse when, suddenly, the mouse appeared! EM was very helpful (insert sarcastic tone here) (EM: I was so helpful it isn’t even a joke!)at this point as she began using a sweet voice usually reserved for pets and tried to talk the mouse of the car, saying what a pretty and healthy mouse it was. I, being less concerned with the health of the mouse than with its whereabouts, was less than amused by her.

EM: So. True.  You were in fact, mean to the mouse.  She starts yelling at the mouse “Mouse (BR: expletive)!  You get out of my car!  Right! (BR: Expletive!) Now!”

The mouse failed to respond.  In fact, he gave us the mouse version of F-U and scampered away from the window and over to the drivers seat.  Bella Rachel, in her “picture of a distressed woman”pose, turns away from the window as she cannot bring herself to see what he has planned.  

The mouse then starts running back and forth across the dashboard (laps, what is this, a gym?) (BR: Yes, it was a full-service moving hotel) and I say “Do not turn around.”

Unable to do the very (small) thing I asked, she turns around to see the mouse stop in the middle of her dashboard and survey his mousey little kingdom.

“Mouse!  Get out of my car!” she yells (Thank goodness the parking lot was empty or people would have thought we had lost our minds) meanwhile I am saying (BR: in her syrupy sweet, kind voice), “Mouse, why are you making her mad?  Just get out of the car.  There are restaurants here, garbage cans, grocery stores and a sewer entrance...it’s like mouse heaven!”  

Now imagine us doing this at the same time, in the general direction of her car for about a full minute.
Then the mouse makes his way to the steering wheel, climbs on it and then does this:
This is the mouse...clearly, he was kind of a jerk

Her screaming at the mouse gets worse and I collapse into giggles.

BR: That’s cuz you’re a b*tch (sing-song voice...omg, you’re right, it IS fun)

EM: Why does it sound like F-U when you say it like that?

Then, a few minutes later the mouse is done congratulating himself on what an awesome mouse he is and decides he needs fresh air...at the window we left open for him.......and …...stops.  I am trying to coax him out into the awesomeness that is the outside of her car, in between giggling when Bella Rachel turns to me and says, “I don’t know who I hate more at this moment, you or the mouse”.

Luckily, the mouse then lost his footing and fell out of the car.  Scampering away into the darkness.

Excited that this is now over I say, “Yay! Drive safely! Let me know when you get home”.

Bella Rachel says, “We have to wait a few minutes”.

“For what?”

“In case he comes back”, she said in all seriousness.

Apparently he is the super spy of mice.
       

BR: Wait....when did we decide he likes opera??

EM: All spies like opera...duh

BR: Look, I know you’re making fun of me (and I’m crushed), but this was an important step. If I had gotten out of my car and into yours and during this process the mouse had hopped back into my car, I would have passed the F out. Also, right around this point is when a policeman drove by. We were both aggravated that he wasn’t around sooner (to help) and also glad he wasn’t around sooner (to declare us insane for yelling at a mouse).

EM: At some point you may have tried to grab his gun and shoot the damn mouse.

BR: Or, you.

EM:  No, no...definitely the mouse

After a sufficient amount of time has passed I am given permission to check her car for super sneaky mice that possibly might be trying to get back in the car (there were none) and after it was declared safe....She got into her car.

Where she found this note:

BR: Remember that part where it sounded like I was saying F-U? That was a good part.

As a side note, this story fully defines our relationship in so many ways. a) we love to f*ck with each other as much as possible. b) it took us about two months to write this. c) one of the best parts of writing this was typing over each in google docs.

EM: That's cause “We’re awesome!”

BR: When you put it in quotes, it sounds less genuine. It’s a scientifical fact that we are awesome.
Oh!!! And, we named the mouse. We named him Anakin. Know why? Cuz I hate little Anakin. And I hate that super fluffy healthy mouse.

EM: But he was so fluffy and healthy he couldn't have been in our car very long...that is all I’m trying to say

BR: HE.WAS.IN.MY.CAR.

EM: I still maintain this wasn’t and could never be, my fault.

BR: It’s ok, I totally forgive you.

EM: For helping you when you were a “completely distressed woman”?

BR: …...sure. THAT. Quick question: what’s 2 + 2 (for large values of 2) = ?

EM: 5!

Hello? Is anybody there?

Whew! Let me get a rag and wipe the dust off of this place. I can't believe it's been two years since I've posted. You would think that nothing happened in my life in the last two years. Nothing could be further from the truth. Work was insane, I got promotions, my boss got pregnant, got married, went on maternity leave (I filled in for her), I got an assistant, I got an office, and then, I got a new job. I'm back at the company I was at three years ago and, in a strange way, it feels like coming home in a really wonderful way.

Now that we're all up to speed, I'm getting back to blogging. It's good for me to get thoughts out of my head and out into the world. They seem less scary that way. And I have really great friends that are blogging and I want to share the experience with them.

So, here I am. I'm back. A little weirder. A little nerdier. A little wiser and a little dumber. But I'm me and we're going to have some fun!!!

The Winds of Change

"The only constant in our industry, and in our lives, is change," so said the Principal of our company as he introduced our new CFO. I have mixed feelings about this change, as does nearly everyone else in our firm. I have been in this position for nearly one year. In that I feel I have built a reputation with our executive staff and I was looking forward to capitalizing on that reputation at review time. Now, during one of the busiest times of the year (with 20 open positions and open enrollment next month), we will be getting a new boss. I am definitely feeling a lot of uncertainty.
On the flip side of that is the fact that change is good. It is good to get a fresh perspective, a new set of eyes, and shake things up. I love the excitement and the rush of making new plans and seeing them to fruition.
I guess in the end it is just going to be a crazy first quarter!

What Am I Doing?

I am quite the worrier. I worry about everything, big or small, until it has passed and then I worry some more. I've come to accept that this is part of who I am and I work with it. That being said, my worrisomeness has been in overdrive since having my work hours cut in half. And even though I suddenly have more time in my day, I have been feeling largely uninspired and I haven't been writing or reading nearly as much as I would like. But I have accomplished some good things.

I have had a couple of really great interviews. The most recent one, yesterday, was for an HR Assistant position at a good, stable company that is near my home. Obviously it's too soon to say, but based on what I saw, I REALLY want this job. It pays a bit less than my current position, but money is not everything. It is a shorter commute, a much larger company, a better benefits package, and I felt I connected well with my potential boss. So I have my fingers crossed on that one.

I've also been taking a Women's Studies course at the college. My college philosophy at the moment is to take things that seem interesting until I decide what I want to be when I grow up. I am planning to take the math and English assessment tests in April (eek!), at which point I can take some general ed classes as well. Back to the point. I'm taking a women's studies course and so far I'm finding it a bit dull. It seems I don't agree with all feminist concepts. Unfortunately, I think it may have something to do with the writings in the book, as I feel a good portion of it is outdated. But the class just started so perhaps we haven't gotten into the meat of things quite yet.

And I think that's all I've got going on. We (the husband and I) sat down yesterday and reviewed our situation and I feel much less stressed, which has made today an exceptionally good day.

Cross your fingers that I get the HR Assistant position. I want it I want it I want it.

Un(der) Employed - The Saga

Last week (Wednesday) I had a serious conversation with my boss. I expressed that I was concerned because he had reduced the base pay of a couple of our recruiters. I noted that I understand we are in a period of change due to the economy, but I needed him to know that I was worried about how I fit into the company. The result of the conversation was that my hours were cut in half and I was advised to find alternate employment. Well, technically that wasn't a direct result of our conversation, I had seen it coming, but it was still shocking.

That day I immediately went home, wrote my resume, had a good friend and recruiter review it, then posted it on Monster and Craigslist. I then submitted it to about 25 different positions, tweaking the resume and my introductory paragraph for each one. I texted or called several of my friends to let them know I was looking. I submitted my resume to four different staffing firms.

Oh, yeah, and I freaked out. Who wouldn't freak out? This was the worst possible time for something like this to happen. Not that there is ever a good time.

Since then, I've had one interview, and I think the position is promising. I've tried to keep a positive attitude, but it's difficult. I want to enjoy this new-found free time, but it's impossible to enjoy this time when I don't want to have time off, I want to have a job. I continue to work my half hours at my current position while I'm looking for a new one. It's all very frustrating. Especially because as I do my research, I realize how few jobs there really are.

My confidence that I will find something in my ideal pay range is fading. The interview I had may still pan out, but if it doesn't I'm very concerned.

What Does Christmas Mean To You?

Christmas means a lot of different things to different people. For some it's about family, others about presents, traditions, snow. Everyone has a vague idea of what Christmas is about, what it stands for, why it is important. I don't think that anybody's reason is wrong, but I do think it's something each of us should think about and know about ourselves.

My thoughts on Christmas have changed quite a bit over time. Growing up one of Jehovah's Witnesses, I did not celebrate Christmas. I remember driving through neighborhoods, envious of the pretty lights, the gorgeous Christmas trees in front windows, fun, inflatable Santas and snowmen. I remember my parents complaining about listening to Christmas music in the stores, the lines, the "bell ringers" out front. It was awkward knowing what to say when wished a Merry Christmas. I could not return in kind, but did not want to be rude. And of course I had to be coached on what to say if someone asked what I wanted for Christmas, what I got for Christmas, etc. A whole lot of effort went into not celebrating Christmas.

After I stopped being a practicing Jehovah's Witness, I must admit that Christmas was about the presents. Hey, it was a new thing for me. And the decorations. I bought boxes and boxes of ornaments that first year, not really knowing how to decorate a tree, and endured a little ribbing from my husband. It was fun. I wanted everything to be absolutely perfect. Things didn't go exactly the way I wanted them to, but looking back it was perfect because it was ours.

This will be my fourth Christmas. And now Christmas is more about spending time with my husband. We are such busy people and we're both looking forward to being our family - each other. We're building our own little traditions. Of course I'm still into the presents! But I've found what is really important about the holidays. It's our family. Our little family of two that will hopefully one day be a bigger family. The stores and the traffic and all that don't really matter. Happy time together matters. And that's what Christmas means to me.

It's All Okay

I am someone who is very hard on myself. I think that, really, most people are hard on themselves. It could be childhood/parental issues (such as in my case), peer issues, or just the kind of issues that the person came with. Everything has to be perfect and then, wouldn't you know it, it's just not good enough. I never try hard enough, I always quit, I start things I don't finish, my house isn't clean enough, the dinner wasn't good enough, the presentation wasn't pretty enough, I'm not skinny/pretty enough, blah blah blah. You know the drill. It's nothing knew. Thankfully (or perhaps unfortunately), I am not unique. Yes, I constantly have those voices running through my head. And yes, I sometimes answer them (don't you judge me! You answer them too).

As a general rule I handle these issues in some fashion, usually bottling them up inside, and then at some point I break. I used to freak out on a very frequent (almost daily) basis, but I've gotten better. Sometimes, though, I just feel too overwhelmed and nothing is going to help except a good cry and cuddle from my husband. And then he says the sweetest things and I feel better. Last night was one of those times I was freaking out. I think about not working out. And then it branched off into other things, as these things do, and it just kept going. All the things I start and don't finish (like the blanket I started to crochet about two years ago), or the book(s) I'm the process of reading, or blogging. Whatever.

He reminded me that growing up I was very sheltered. I was homeschooled and my life revolved around my religion and I didn't really get to have hobbies. So at this point in my life, it's ok for me to try lots of things. It's ok for me to dabble and then leave it alone and then come back to it and so forth. It's ok for my hobbies to be video game playing and TV watching and comic book reading and blog reading. (Yes, I am super-nerdy.) And I felt tremendously better. In fact, I still feel better. All of the things I do, I do because I want to. I'm allowed to do random things and it's ok because I'm still a responsible adult. I have to say, I have a renewed sense of peace with myself.

And, for the record, the husband also tells me that I'm beautiful and a good cook and a great housekeeper even though I'm not the housekeeper and so forth. I tell him he just says those things so he can sleep with me. :-P