Hi, I'm Rita

Started my new contract position today.

The projects seem interesting, it's exciting to learn a new industry.

But the minute I walk out the door in the morning, I have to put on my personality face like I'm perfectly comfortable meeting new people, LOTS of new people, not knowing what to expect and appearing confident.

YUCK.  I hate that stuff. 

I love already knowing the personalities of the people I work with.  I don't have a problem with learning new processes and asking questions when I don't know the answers, but not knowing people's personalities, who will be my friend and who might be looking to stab me in the back makes me nervous.  I have stayed for years with companies where I was miserable only because I stupidly have the "devil you know" attitude.

Maybe I was just in banking too long.  I'd estimate it was close to 50% that would prefer to set you up to look bad, so I'm more hesitant than what I should be.

Four years as a contractor with a retailer where I found nearly everyone was just a great deal of fun to work with and I didn't have to continually look over my shoulder for that person aiming at my head made it very hard to leave.

First assessment is that this new company is ready for some major changes and have assigned an inside resource with alot of project experience to help me along.  That's all good.

It's just that poor Bob has to put up with me being wired a little too tightly for the next few months.

The good side is that I can finally tell some of the quirky stories of past assignments (names will be withheld to protect the stupid).  I swear the TV show The Office could never write some of oddities of some of my past associates.  It made every day interesting, that's for sure.

I'm So Confused

The last few days I have been getting visits from all over the world simply because they have apparently been googling this....

I just be missing some worldwide chicken broth festival. I need to make my real version of the broth so these dozen or so people throughout the world would know what real chicken broth tastes like.

What's up with that?

Raymond

Raymond - Brett Eldredge - Brett Eldredge Videos

Tolerance from my back yard

I remember as a kid singing a kid's song about Daniel Boone.  I cannot tell you where I first learned the song, but I guarantee you it was not from my own house.

The silly little song contained a derogatory racist remark about why Daniel Boone ran up a tree when he saw a big bear.

I distinctly remember my mom giving me hell for saying that "word" and told me how ashamed her very good black friend Gladys would be to know that I ever uttered that "n" word.

My mother's words burned into my psyche and I forever on believed that word was one of the worst words you could ever utter.  Nothing makes me cringe more that hearing that word uttered and I don't care what color you are when you say it.  I find it as offensive when the black rappers say it as much as I do when I hear a white racist say it.

Occasionally, unbelievably I will overhear a conversation about the KKK and those people are not condemning the group.   Although I keep calm, I cannot help but explain to them that I was raised Catholic and the KKK hated me and my family as much as they hated people of color.  Most never realize how that hate-filled group not only hated (and still do) blacks, but also Catholics.  Suddenly they find themselves staring into the eyes of someone the KKK hates and the discussion quickly ends.

I remember my mom telling stories of how her southern Indiana town sometimes had burning crosses in their yards because they were Catholic.

I try to stay away from posting blogs about politics, but I see the "new word" vitriol thrown about from the right and left.  They both do it and they are both wrong.

Anyone who carries a sign putting a Hitler mustache on Obama, on George Bush or WI Governor Walker and of course the "evil" Dick Cheney (sarcasm) should be required to spend one day hearing a story of a Jew who had to spend one year in an concentration camp.  Yeah, they have a right to their free speech, but they really need to understand how that free speech was bought, paid and bled for them to be able to carry such disgusting signs.  And maybe they would understand how making those comparisons diminish the true evilness of Adolph Hitler and his attempt to annihilate an entire group of people.

When I was a kid, I didn't have much of a political lean, as I grew older, I slowly grew into a Conservative.  

That doesn't mean I don't love a good discussion with someone that believes differently that I do.  I find those kinds of conversations as interesting as I do with my Hindu, Jain, Jewish, Muslim and even my athiest friends.  I know they will not change my Christian view and I know I will not change their religion or lack thereof, but I find it fascinating the differences and the similarites. 

That being said, I have yet to understand those people I disagree with that turn our discussions into a personal attack.  Believe me, I am not stupid and I cannot help but be offended when people call me filthy names because I believe differently than they do. 

I don't believe that diehard liberals are stupid, I just believe they don't see the world as I see it. 

It becomes apparent early on when I can have an intelligent discussion with someone that has a different opinion than I do and the one that just wants to make it personal.

A year or so ago I used to read and comment on a very liberal (although she thought she was a moderate) blogger.  When she referred to me as a Teabagger, I tried my best to explain to this woman why that was such an offensive term.  It didn't work.  When I backed her into a corner with her own words, she still didn't understand  my position.  It was then I realized I could not have an intelligent discussion with her about anything.

A day after comments back and forth, she posted an extremely nasty blog about all Tea "baggers".  I gave up.  Her hatred spewed out in her blog, which used to be interpersed with some conservative dialogue, but her nasty attacks now leaves her blog comments only filled with her blogging friends who believe only as she does.  It was a shame, she's an intelligent person but ultimately her hatred of anyone who believed differently overtook what used to be a fairly reasonable liberal view.

The same thing happened with a very good friend of mine after she (a few years ago) believed everything Michael Moore said when he directed the movie about 9/11 wherein Bush and Cheney supposedly knew, aided and abetted the attack.  I finally directed the conversation away from her ranting and raving by reminding her that we had met to help a friend who was grieving her sister's unexpected death, not to discuss politics.

Last year our 10 year friendship ended after she was ranting at the party about how unfair it was that some local big celebrity was sending his kids to a private school and this local celebrity thought it was awful that they were paying property tax to the public school and his kid couldn't participate in the public school's sports program, since he didn't attend the public school.  I asked her why that was any different than how I was paying property tax when our kids were long out of public school.  This local celebrity could afford to pay for his entire town and fund any sports facility in the state if he wanted his kids to get the best sports training.

She went on and on and then I made the worst mistake ever.  I answered her question when she asked me if I thought the big local celebrity loved this country.  He is known for being very political and I saw him at Farm Aid in October 2001 when a fan was waving the American flag past the stage.  The other celebrities would take the flag for awhile as they sang, the local celebrity waved his hand in dismissal when the fan tried to hand him the flag.   One month after 9/11 and he refused to touch the American flag.  So I answered her honestly.  I didn't call him Hitler, I didn't scream or yell.  I simply said, "No, I don't believe he loves this country."  That impression in October 2001 forever changed my mind about him, right or wrong, that was the impression he left me with.

One sentence in a rant that had already gone on for 20 minutes.

All hell broke loose.  I felt sorry for our hosts.  I was not about to say I didn't believe what I had just said, and it wouldn't have mattered anyway.  My former friend began to scream at me.  SCREAM.  At a private party of 7.  I did try to calm her down by saying that we would never agree, but that I would always love her anyway.

No change.  The yelling (not by me, I just shut up) when on and on.  The other ladies actually started physically moving her away from me as she screamed, moving closer and closer to my face.  After 10 more minutes I told Bob it was time to leave.  I hated the whole exchange for our hosts.  I went upstairs, put my coat on and the hostess came up to convince me to come back and join the "party".  I hated seeing her in pain, so I went back downstairs hoping my former friend had calmed down.

That didn't happen.  I turned my back, watching Bob and our friend playing ping pong.  In the background was my former friend still ranting and raving how awful I was and how stupid I was to believe what I believed.  The funny thing was that all of the other people in the room had my political belief. Maybe not my opinion of the celebrity, but the rest of the group were conservatives.

I watched the ping pong game for another 10 minutes and when I realize that was not stopping the one-person rant behind me, I made it very clear to Bob that it was time to leave.  I gave the other 4 people hugs goodbye.  Bob hugged the ranting woman who then told him that "some people should just keep their opinion to themselves."  She didn't understand when Bob replied calmly, "That's right Amy, some people SHOULD keep their opinions to themselves."  Her right to speak her mind meant that I was not allowed to speak mine because it didn't agree with hers.  I was just supposed to shut up and sit down.  You see her freedom of speech was so much greater than mine.

The ranting didn't stop after I left and in fact continued all the way home for one couple who had picked Amy up for the party.  After about 15 minutes in the car, our mutual friend finally said, "Amy I will never be as passionate as you are about politics and no amount of you screaming it at me will change my mind."

I was so upset for our hosts because they had loved our get togethers and the host is my oldest friend.  I sent him an email the next day saying I was sorry I ruined their party by saying one sentence that apparently started the complete chaos.    My friend who drove Amy home called me the next day to see if I was okay.  I was never going to bring up the incident (but I would never subject myself to that environment again) but I was so relieved that she understood how hurtful that incident was to me and was glad she stood up for me on her way home.  It was then I cried.  I told her I would always love Amy but that was the second time I had taken her abuse and I could never subject myself to it again.

As much as I would like to let personal verbal assaults about my deeply held beliefs not affect me, I am just not that strong.  When I try to reason with that person and I get only more insults or claims of not understanding why being called filthy names is insulting, I find it necessary to keep those type of people out of my life.  There are too many other dramatic things that are harder to deal with

The only thing that made it better for me was that my good friend of 25 years ( who is like a sister to me) stuck up for me and called me the next day to make sure I was okay.   I really wasn't, knowing how long we had been holding these parties and that all that was gone. 

You might remember the a few couple post back where I said that life doesn't make me cry very often, well this was one incident that it did.

I miss Amy, but I won't subject myself to that type of verbal abuse from a stranger nor will I subject myself to that kind of abuse from someone I love.

I cried all the way home from the party.  I only stopped when my long-term friend called me to say that she thought it was unfair and that she was worried about me.  SHE apologized for her/our friend's attack.   I want to thank her for being a true friend.  A forever friend. 

Tolerance needs to go both ways, but sadly sometimes that just doesn't happen.

What Columbia University is teaching our children.

At 28 years old, he's seen more than most of us would ever imagine in our worst nightmares.

In November 2008, Army Staff Sgt. Anthony Maschek was involved in an horrific battle in northern Iraq.  He was shot 11 times in the battle, earning him the Purple Heart, one medal every soldier would rather avoid being awarded.  He broke both legs and was wounded in the abdomen, arms and chest.

He spent two years at Walter Reed Medical Hospital recovering from his wounds.

Last August he enrolled at Columbia University.

There's a war going on at Columbia, a war on the ROTC and our military.  The school first claimed they did not want the ROTC on their premises because of the Don't Ask Don't Tell policy of the military.  Since that policy has changed, it has not changed the disgust that Columbia instills in their students against brave men and women that serve this country.

Columbia has been holding several sessions about allowing the ROTC on campus.  Although there are a few professors willing to speak up in support of our military, Sociology Professor Emeritus Herbert Gans told the NY Post the following, "Universities should not be involved in military activities," Columbia should come out against spending $300 billion a year on unnecessary wars."

Even more egregious is the reaction that they students now display toward our soldiers.

Maschek was invited to address one of the sessions to discuss his military service.   He said, "It doesn't matter how you feel about the war. It doesn't matter how you feel about fighting. There are bad men out there plotting to kill you."

The reaction of the students?  They began to heckle this man who took 11 bullets for his country.  They began to scream, "Racist" at a hero that fought for their rights to say those words.  They booed him.

All I can tell you is that if I was paying for my kid to attend this school or any like it, I would haul their asses out of that school so fast they wouldn't know what hit them.  And if it was my kid holding up signs like the one below, they would get their next six months education volunteering at some VA hospitals and their assignments would be to document every single war story that those heroes suffered and fought for.

It's apparent that we, as a generation, have failed to instill in a lot of our children how much blood has been shed for their freedom to be able to insult a hero. 

You have to add a lot of twists and stuff.

Remember which movie this quote was from?




The line was delivered by a young boy that actually explained the whole concept of the big suspenseful surprise that came at the end of the movie. It was largely overlooked because most people remember and quote the line he uttered a minute later.  You can guess the movie.

Which brings me to this week.

Late on Monday afternoon I was initiated into the wonderful world of contract work.  After nearly four years working independently for the same client, I was told to pack up my things.

I'll have to tell you I was in complete shock, as was the rest of my co-workers, my friends that I have grown to love.  My phone was ringing off the hook (ok, cell phones don't have hooks, but you get my drift) by all my friends asking what happened.  I had no answer for them as I wasn't really given one.

My major project went live last February, we were still working on fixing the minor bugs and I was beginning a new project.  Then "poof" in the night, it was all over.  I heard the next couple of days was not very pleasant around the office.  Not to sound arrogant, but I pretty much was the life of the party.  Of course the party consisted of people walking past my cube hurling an insult my way and me giving as good as I got.  I really loved the people and the culture.

Since I was self-employed, that meant no unemployment either, not that that could have touched my salary, but at least I wouldn't have felt totally useless.

Still in shock Monday night, I was reviewing my contacts at linkedin.com.  For those unaware, it's a job networking site that I have been on for about 5 years now.  With about 150 contacts, I could see plenty of opportunity to begin working on first thing Tuesday morning.  The last thing I did before going to bed was to update my status.  I simply wrote "looking for opportunities" and called it a night (and a very lousy day).

When I cranked up my laptop Tuesday morning, I had an email from a friend I hadn't seen in a couple years who now owns her own small consulting firm.   Wanted me to contact her right away.  I called and left a voicemail AND sent a responding email.  By 10 am, she emailed me she had a busy day, but wanted to call me at 1:30.  Talked with her about a position she had with a client that needed my skill set.  We set up a meeting for Wednesday.  I spent Tuesday preparing a resume and Tuesday evening running out and buying a couple of interview suits and shoes (that was the worst part).

She called me Thursday, told me her client wanted to meet me on Friday.  About 4 pm yesterday, my new boss called me to say the client thought I was perfect and I could start my new job a week from Monday.  They are giving a rough estimate of 7 months to a year work, but it's a rapidly growing start up company and odds are (unless I screw something up) it'll last longer.

I was so extremely relieved and shocked I could find another contract position before even one week went by.

Bad News,  Good News and then.......

Bob's cell phone woke us early this morning.  His mother only said, "I need help." and hung up.  We threw on some clothes, brushed our teeth and were heading out when Bob was able to get ahold of her again.  We told her to call 911 as his dad was yelling in pain and struggling to breathe.

We flew down the highway and arrived at their house about 6 minutes later and there was no ambulance in site.  His dad didn't want her to call, we all agreed that from now on, we will call 911 regardless of what he says.

He was standing up leaning against a recliner, loudly complaining about the pain and not being able to breathe.  Bob loaded him in our car, I took the backseat and held his hand.  I could tell he was more in panic than in pain.  Thankfully they live only about a mile from a fire station. 

The guys at the station calmed him down right away, got an IV, oxygen mask and on a stretcher.  I rode in the front of the ambulance thinking I could keep him calm, but he had already settled down alot knowing he was getting help.

Come to find out, a few days ago his doc had prescribed medication to help drain the fluid that was swelling the lower half of his body, but they hadn't filled the prescription.  They are very proudful people, sometime to their own detriment. 

They have now admitted him with congestive heart failure and gave him some medication that is definitely removing the deadly fluids from his body.  He'll turn 90 in May and smoked up until about 10 years ago.

We'll be heading back up to the hospital soon and one of us will likely stay with him through the night.  He's a wonderfully old stubborn man that won't listen to many people, but he does what Bobby tells him to do and I gave him a calmer lecture in the emergency room (I save my very stern lectures for my knucklehead brother) and told him that he is not to argue with his wife anymore about calling 911.  He agreed with me, he's been my buddy ever since I began calling him "Burly" even though he's a slight built old guy.

This is a picture of him with my grandson nearly nine years ago on Father's Day.  God I love the guy.  (Actually I love all three of these guys in the pic.)  Say a prayer.  Gotta run.  And by the way, if anyone happens to talk with M. Night Shyamalan, you can tell him to lay off my family for awhile, everyone is a little tired of all the twists and stuff.

This is a good kind of cry.

Found this from a friend on facebook. I don't know if it's really true or not, but it's a good feeling no matter what.

The Post Didn't Start Out That Way

Yesterday's post was supposed to be lighthearted as I was watching some chick on TV manipulating some stupid male by using her tears and the next thing you know I have another "downer" posting.

On a lighter note, my idiot brother has another dumba$$ idea.

I'll Be Seeing You

Photo courtesy of Brian Bruner.


I'll admit it. I cry alot. But....

It's not what you think.

I cry at movies, at posts from bloggers, at silly TV shows. I cry at alot of things.

But I rarely cry about life.

Don't get me wrong, I am not unemotional or unattached, it's just that I find that most women use tears as a way to manipulate people, mostly men. And I don't understand men who can't see through the tears.

When I do cry about something in life, you know it's serious. And when I reach that level, it's not a pretty cry, it's a horrible gut wrenching kind.

Bob, although he's becoming a softy like alot of men do as they age, laughs at me when I'm watching a movie or something on TV that gets the tears flowing. Even after 20 years, you'd think he'd stop saying, "Here comes the rain." when we're watching some sad or very happy show. I honestly think he says it only to keep himself from crying.

I can probably narrow down the things in life that make me cry to three things. Death, Love and Family.

A few years ago, one of my last uncles passed away from pancreatic cancer. Having lost my father 19 years ago, death of anyone, much less someone I love, immediately brings all of that up to the top of my throat and it's very hard to control.

But for some reason when Uncle Bob (yes there are alot of Bob's around in my life) passed away I could not for the life of me figure out why I was not crying.

Yeah, obviously a pancreatic cancer death is not a surprise and although not old, he was in his 70's, but still..... I loved Uncle Bob and (at that time) I had only one uncle left in the entire world.

We spent lots of summer nights at his house growing up.  He was really a funny guy who we all loved.

At the funeral I was sitting directly behind his family, next to my mom. It was a nice funeral, if there is such a thing, but for some reason I kept thinking over and over, "why isn't this bothering me more?" It was the first funeral since my dad died that I didn't spend the entire time crying.  I cry at complete stranger's funerals and I cried all day last week when the IMPD officer was laid to rest as I was iced in and the local station aired the funeral.

As my uncle's funeral was ending, we were standing and about to leave.  But apparently my aunt had told them to play a certain song, one from the 30's/40's era. One of those great songs my mom made sure I heard growing up.

I'll be seeing you
In all the old familiar places
That this heart of mine embraces
All day through.

In that small cafe;
The park across the way;
The children's carousel;
The chestnut trees;
The wishin' well.

I'll be seeing you
In every lovely summer's day;
In every thing that's light and gay.
I'll always think of you that way.

I'll find you
In the morning sun
And when the night is new.
I'll be looking at the moon,
But I'll be seeing you.

As the very first notes played and I recognized the song, I swear that I physically felt like someone had just punched me in the gut. Since I didn't know what was coming, I could not stop the very audible sob(s) that came out of my mouth. It would have been embarrassing, except this was a funeral and it was my uncle and I loved him. And I missed my dad, and I felt horrible for my cousins and aunt and mom and my family and death and and and....apparently I have become very good at burying deep deep down inside the grief that can well up in me at a moment's notice since my dad's death.

And it was made even worse because I was about 20 minutes behind all of the rest of the family's sobbing. And I was LOUD. I really tried not to be, but I just lost it.

Honestly I think it shocked my mom, because I had been perfectly fine one minute and a complete utter pool of grief the next. And they are playing the song, the song my mom had taught me to love when I was so little, as we were supposed to be filing out of the church.

So my mom led me out of the church with her arm grabbing my shoulder as I shuddered my way down the long aisle.

Second Best

Happy 100th Birthday Mr. President

Wish we had someone like him for 2012.

Notice from the County

YOU ARE HEREBY SUMMONED TO APPEAR FOR JURY SELECTION....

Yeah, I won the lottery, even though I tried to explain that I am a self-employed contractor and added "primary wage earner" since Bob is semi-retired.

Last year that worked for being excused, not so much this year. They left a message on my voicemail that said that was not sufficient reason to be excused.

Just got my notice in the mail today.

Not to worry though, they will pay me a whopping $15 for the day and $40 a day if I'm actually selected. Hopefully they'll dismiss me so I won't lose another day's wages.

I'm going to make sure they understand that I am related to police officers, they NEVER want someone related to a cop on jury duty, they may actually believe in siding with the law, weird, huh?

Honestly I would be fascinated to be called for jury duty, if it just didn't cost me alot of money to serve.