random updates

I know, I know. I'm a bad blogger. I think we've been through this before. Sometimes I just don't think what I have to say is all that interesting. Or I'm just drunk in a bar somewhere. So I'm giving you a daphne fix with random bits from my life:

1. A good problem to have.
I'm shrinking. My jeans are nearly falling off, thank dog I have hips to hold them up. Seriously, do you know how hard it is to find a decent pair of jeans? (men, don't answer that, all pants are the same size for you) Now I'm jean-less until I can devote a half a day to finding my next pair. Also, a suit I bought last summer (lovely seafoam linen, very comfy as far as suits go) is now hanging off of me. I took two suits to the tailor because I can use them as a make-shift tent if trapped alone in the wilderness. You know, for all those times I get trapped in the wilderness whilst wearing a suit in metro Denver.

2. Triathlon numero uno is next Saturday.
We're leaving Denver Wednesday morning to drive the beasts to my parents house in Tucson. We'll spend a day or so with the parents at Casa de Daphne, the early years. The parents will dogsit, and quite likely fatten up, our crazy dogs. We'll then head southwest, Thelma y Louise style to de border and arrive in Mexico by Friday. The sprint tri is Saturday at 8:30 am. By 10 am I should be tri-ed out and partying it up with Senior Tecate and friends.

3. I'm seeing someone.
I decided to re-take the GMAT and this time I've hired Matt, the ambiguously sexual hella smart math tutor. Needless, he makes me feel all dumb and smart at the same time. "Do you remember what 1+1 is? OoooK, let's review." and "I'm glad you didn't get tripped up with the negatives [dividing 2 negatives gets you what, class?] because most people do." and "What's 15% of 40%? Good job! [pats head]" It all makes sense when he says it. Too bad they don't let me take him in with me. That would be sweet.

4. The dog park is our friend.
Little miss Paddi O'Notsotubbersonanymore has too much energy for my taste. It's wrestle with Rocky/bark in the yard/wrestle with Rocky/eat poop/do wind sprints in the yard/wrestle with Rocky/eat dead birds. And then it's time for lunch. So we go to the dog park where she can chase other dogs who are chasing balls and other flying objects. Then she naps. Finally.

5. We built a fence.
Rather, the men folk built it whilst my neighbor and I played procurement bitches all day. We then sat around with cocktails and pointed at them and laughed.

6. I'm full-up with decisions.
I had to decide whether or not to retake the GMAT. Check. Now I have to decide whether or not to run off to do a volunteer gig in August. It's the same volunteer gig I did last August but it didn't go so well. They want me to do it again to provide some continuity and crap like that. Then there's all this other deciding to do around Creative HQ. Do I hire someone? Not hire someone? Do I get a job at Harbucks? Not get a job at Harbucks? Do I get letterhead printed? Or just print it off the "laser" printer? Now I know why George, I'm The Decider makes such bad decisions. Thems hard and stuff.

7. My firing of bad clients is not going so well.
I've really tried. OK, no I haven't. But I've thought about it and don't want to do something like that by email. This means I have to get her on the phone. When she's not at the side of her hospitalized mother. See? You try firing someone whilst they are tending to their dying parent. Not so easy, is it?

There. That's most of it. I'm sure there are some equally banal details of my life to share but some things are too boring, even for me.

See ya when I get back from Mexico! Asta!

Funk-B-Gone!

I've decided that there's been far, far, far too much funk around these parts. I'm not talking about the good kind of funk, the George Clinton-Grand Funk Railroad-Bring In Da Funk-Bring In Da Noise kind of funk. No, I'm talking about the dark, stanky, mushy funk. The kind of funk that drowns your happy self in miserable self-defeating unkind untruths. That's it. Funk, be gone. Shoo.

Recommended measures to de-funk:

1) Rock out to some strong female (or if you're a man, Metallica) bands. Dixie Chicks are my current repeat. Especially "Taking the Long Way Around" and "So Hard." They speak to me as someone who left the corporate pod and from time to time needs a reminder why she left in the first place. And yes, Metallica has a time and a place. Even for girls.

2) Surround yourself with supportive, positive people. Today I met with a woman who was a walking happy-pill. She complimented me and my talents with genuine intent. She's one of those people that you don't believe exists. Oh, but they do. I need to spend more time with this woman. She made me feel like I was on the right path, that I'm going to be sucessful, that I'm as fantastic as my inner critic doesn't want me to believe.

3) Get out. Go outside. Breath fresh air. Get some vitamin D from the sun. It helps reduce the glare from your pasty white legs.

4) Put it in perspective. I have so much to be grateful for. There are other people in much more horrible, lonely, desperate situations that I am. Some people can't work in their flip-flops and PJs. Some of them have to live in France. (just kidding Francy-pants, you know that I'm just tres jealous of your wine, cheese, 17 weeks of vacation and unabashed love of Speedos.)

5) More perspective. It's not going to be like this forever. Everyone struggles at the begining. Ben & Jerry's didn't make a profit for five fricken years. Not one cent. I'm already ahead of them. And I'm better looking.

6) Don't eat chocolate cake and spin around in your desk chair like you're Sasha Cohen at the Worlds. It just isn't a good idea no matter how good that cake was.

7. Get help. There are a gozillion people out there that want to help you. SCORE is my next stop. I want to grow the Creative HQ but don't know how. So instead of whining about being dumb, I'm going to ask for help.

Ta-da. Feel free to post your own funk-b-gones.