April 20, 2010
What the Easter Bunny Brought Me
Because nothing says Our Savior Is Risen like a plastic tramp in gladiator garb!
[Text taken directly off the box she came in. Well, mostly.]
Posted at 08:25 AM | Comments (1)April 12, 2010
A Tale of Two Planters
Billi! Look what you made me do!
Recognize this? It's the damn plant you bought me because the little owl pot it was in was so cute.
Now, I don't want to sound ungrateful, but couldn't you have just replanted the plant into one of the many pots of plants at your house, filled the owl pot with M&Ms and given it to me that way?
When I got the owl pot, I was like, "Oh, cute! The plant will die soon, and then I can put whatever I want in the owl -- like acorns or Barbie shoes or Q-tips. Awesome!"
You see, plants hate me. My Grandma had a fern for seventeer years, and when she died, my Dad gave it to me. No idea why. It was dead inside a month. Can you imagine the guilt?! Emotionally scarred by a plant!
I can kill cactuses. (Cacti?) I can kill air ferns. I can kill any plant simply by being in close proximity to it. That's my super-power.
So I set Billi's plant on the windowsill in my kitchen, and Husband said, "Oh, that's a begonia!"
Jeebus, don't tell me it's NAME! I don't want to know it's name! It's harder for me to passively and unemotionally anticipate its imminant demise if it has a NAME!
Of course, Husband doesn't understand this because he grew up in a world where they named their animals and then ate them. So he can't comprehend why I don't want to be on a first-name basis with a plant.
And I am now, of course, bonding with the damn begonia. Even had to make Husband find a bigger planter and replant it. It's THRIVING. Can you believe it? A plant! Thriving! Around ME!
I am beholden unto a plant. Obligated to water it. To worry about its leaves. To express pride at seeing new growth. I have yet another living thing dependent on me, and it's ALL YOUR FAULT, BILLI!
Stupid plant.
Posted at 08:40 AM | Comments (1)April 01, 2010
Office Zen
For April Fool's Day, I thought I'd unleash a bit of crazy on you -- wenchie-style. And not, like, omg-blue-nail-polish! crazy. I'm talkin' was-she-dropped-on-her-head-as-a-baby? crazy. So, you know -- the good kind!
Okay, this week I am obsessing about something completely new that has nothing to do with my appearance, PhD Boss' incomprehensible conversation skills, or Heather's boobs. I'm obsessing about...
My Neighbor's Office
Our across-the-street neighbors go to our church, AND the husband works where I work. They are awesome neighbors who love our dogs and bake us bread. He just happens to be an ordained minister, so I will call him Rev. Neighbor.
[Mom, you know who I'm talking about. You park at our house when you go to parties at their house.]
Rev. Neighbor is a department head and is, therefore, the inhabitant of one of the few corner offices at work. Now. What does one normally find in the offices of the executives where I work?
1. Desk.
2. Computer.
3. Shitload of books.
4. Photo of family.
5. Photo of yourself with the Pope/Archbishop of Cantebury/Random World Leader.
6. Ergonomically-designed chair on wheels.
7. Telephone.
8. Stacks of papers and files.
9. Various gifts from around the world that kind of make your office look like a Morroccan street fair.
10. Maybe a plant.
Right? Right. Variations on a theme of Typical Exec Habitat.
But in Rev. Neighbor's corner office?
1. Big rocking chair.
...
I am completely blown away by the genius of this. And I want to know -- what does he know that the rest of us don't???
Dudes! He doesn't have a desk! Or a horrible, vinyl chair that makes the backs of your thighs sweat and rolls around a hard, plastic sheet on five wheels!
Just a rocking chair.
That is brilliant. And you know what? He is one of the most productive, responsive, organized, got-his-act-together execs in the building. If not THEE most! Dude knows what he's doing.
The implications are staggering.
Yes, he has books. And some papers, although they are neatly filed away. And he has a phone and a laptop. But here's the key, in my theory -- he doesn't treat his office like a combat staging area; he treats it like an extension of his home.
Think about it. What's more personal than a rocking chair? Everyone who has one has a story behind it. "My grandfather made this" or "My mother used to rock me to sleep in this" or "I bought this at the Cracker Barrell after eating too much biscuits and gravy."
In his office, he is comfortable. He is content. He is relaxed. Jeebus in a Jamboree, this guy has a level of pure Zen going on that one rarely sees in this hemisphere!
So what would happen if we just... took away all the desks? No more laminate workspace. No more beige cubicle walls. No more metal cabinets. Just a little personal space with a nice throw rug and perhaps a floor lamp for task lighting. Maybe a rice-paper folding screen for a little privacy and ambiance.
What if we all brought in a comfy chair, and a side table that reflects our individual style? (I'd have Husband build mine.) Stay with me here, folks, I'm dead serious. Think of the feng shui!!! What are we doing by positioning ourselves behind a big hulk of metal and faux wood? Think of how the energy would flow if we all came out from behind our desks!
My stars, I'm practically giddy!
What if we walked around the building and talked to other people instead of sending emails from our desk? That's what Rev. Neighbor does. If I email him, he calls me on the phone. If I call and leave a message, he comes up to talk in person. It's crazy. He acts like... like we're neighbors. All of us.
I have been pondering this for a week. I'm going to have to just flat out ask him what his personal work philosophy is, and then try to apply his answer to my whole life, thereby solving all my problems.
Or else I'll just write the new "Who Moved My Cheese?" and call it "Rocking Chair Office Zen," and everyone in the corporate world will eat it up, and it will become The Next Big Thing, and I'll make a bazillion dollars.
There are many paths to achieving inner peace.
Posted at 08:16 AM | Comments (2)