Hot! Hot! Hot!

It was 104 degrees here today. It's been 99 or higher here for the last week and a half. No rain in sight. It was 85 degrees at 7am this morning. Get the picture? It's freakin' hot around here! It hasn't been like this in a long time. And I hope it's a really long time before it does it again.

This is why we like iced tea and lemonade in the south. I love ice. Lots of ice in everything I drink. In Europe, they rarely use ice in their drinks. What's up with that? Just holding an ice cold drink in your hand will help you cool off a bit. Even better, you burn off a couple of extra calories as your body works to bring that drink's temperature up to your body temperature. That's my kind of workout!

Come to think of it, those same Europeans think it's okay for a woman not to shave under her arms; and they don't all bathe every day, either. Ewww!

I should stop. That is just the antithesis of genteel. You'll think I'm not a lady if I keep this up. And that would simply be a tragedy. It's the running joke that in the south we justify gossiping about other people by blessing their hearts. As if it's going to wipe that slate clean and make every ugly thing you just said sweet as honey. An example...."That is such a pretty sundress she's wearing. It's too bad she has armpit hair that's long enough to braid! Bless her heart."

Alright, so let me see if I can salvage any vestige of class here. I was talking about the heat before I got off on that tangent. I think whoever invented air conditioning should be granted sainthood. Because people get really cranky when they're hot and uncomfortable. And I sleep so good when it's nice and cool. And my new office is cool...and there is no thermostat, but it's okay. Because it's just the way I like it. I stay more alert when the air is cooler, which usually leads me to be more productive.

Heat is bad for so many reasons. It zaps your energy. You get dehydrated. Your hair just lays down and dies...or frizzes up with no hope of regaining control. Makeup winds up somewhere on your neck instead of where you applied it. And then you either look like you just got out of the shower, or like you need to go take one. Bad either way. Your clothes stick to you. You are acutely aware of the sweat rolling off of you, and how pathetic you will look in no time flat, if you haven't gotten there already. We've got enough to worry about without adding this to the day!

Just give me a mint julep and an air conditioner. Before I come down with the vapors!

Who is Fiona?

Of course Fiona isn't my real name. I chose it because of the character in Shrek. I identify with her. The girl that wanted to be a beautiful princess but turned out to be an ogre.

So here are a few tidbits about me in case you're wondering...not sure why I'm doing this because no one is visiting this blog. Maybe that's why....

I'm so completely insecure. But I'm very adept at hiding it.

I love my work...and I know I'm good at it. I can't honestly say that about any other aspect of my life.

I'm lonely most of the time.

I love to make other people smile...and a good laugh is even better.

I like taking care of other people a lot.

My son is the most precious thing in my life. Hands down. I look at him and just can't believe I had any part in creating him. He's amazing.

I hate mirrors. Go out of my way not to look into them.

I like to make others feel special.

I secretly crave for someone to make me feel special.

I think everyone is beautiful when they smile.

I'm an emotional eater. Every excuse ever created to eat...I'm all about it.

I wish just once I could put something on...and feel and look sensational in it.

I've got really thick hair...but I can't seem to find a great cut to save my life.

I can count on one hand the number of times I've ever really felt sexy in my life. And I want to giggle at the thought right now. It seems like such an oxymoron to put me and sexy in the same sentence.

I love chocolate. Love doesn't begin to describe it, but they haven't come up with the proper word yet.

I adore music. All kinds. I can just feel the notes in my soul.

I regret not travelling when I had an opportunity. There's so much I'd love to see. Which helps explain my insane fascination with the travel channel.

I can't just hear a little bit about something that interests me and let it go. No. I have to Google it and find out every minute detail until I have exhausted myself, and only then am I satisfied. Whoever invented the news channels should be shot for what they did to me. Same for Al Gore, inventor of the internet. Yeah, right.

Okay, so that's some kind of personal disclosure record. I've never talked so much about myself in one place. If you read it to the end....well, you're either really bored or you're looking for blackmail material.

Because I'm just the goofy ogre. No princess here.

The Long and Winding "Rush" Hour

Well, I mentioned that I got a promotion. I think it's going to be really great, except for one thing. I'm back to the god-awful commute.

It was one of the very best things about my last job. Fifteen minutes to work...no interstate involved. Three alternate routes. I was not late a single time due to traffic. The drive was relaxing. And that's huge for me. Because I'm not a fan of driving, really. I'd rather drive than be the passenger, but I don't enjoy driving the way some people do. My shoulders tense up and on long trips ache all the way up into my neck. Why?

In case I'd forgotten, the last week has served to remind me in great detail. It now takes me 45 minutes to an hour to get to work. At first I thought I'd avoid the interstate traffic, since everybody was sitting out there listening to morning radio and drinking coffee as they inched very slowly toward their destinations. I found a route that seemed like it was going to be alright. It wasn't any faster, but at least I was moving the whole time. That made it somewhat bearable. Because I hate sitting in traffic while other people are cutting in front of the line, crowding others out, veering from one lane to another, practically attached to the bumper in front of them. Heaven forbid someone slam on their brakes. All of that makes me tense. I'd like to at least wait until I arrive at work before I tense up.

So, yesterday my somewhat acceptable alternate route turned into a parking lot. It was the first day of school. It took me an hour and a half to get to work. I think I'd have gotten there faster just walking, except I'd have died from heat exhaustion. There's something about sitting in a very long line of traffic with nothing productive to do...except think about how far behind you're getting with every passing moment. It's just not conducive to a cheerful attitude. It really doesn't help when nobody on the road with you seems to have a turn signal installed on their car, or any clue that any of those signs are directed at them. When yellow means go faster and intersections are suddenly meant to be blocked, so that the cross street has absolutely no hope of moving on their green light. And somehow I gave everybody out there the impression that I was going to be kind enough to let them get in front of me because they needed to move so much more than I did.

I can say some very colorful things while sitting alone in that traffic. Alright, so I can hear some of you saying that if I'd just carpool...if everyone would just carpool....then there'd be less traffic and less hassle for all of us. Yeah. But here's the deal. I am married. I am a mom. Being in the car driving to work is the only hope I have of getting a single moment to myself during the course of the day. It's the best thing about driving for me...the chance to get that "me" time that I never get. But all this mess of traffic insists on spoiling it for me.

It's a great scene from a movie....when the car is cruising down the highway with the top down on a gorgeous 70 degree day with a fantastic song playing and not another car in sight anywhere. If I could just find that scenario one time in real life. That's a funny thing that I will admit about myself. When I mow the lawn, I put on my iPod and drive that John Deere like it's going 75 miles an hour down an open road. Just me and the music. Rushing to no place in particular. With nothing pressing to do.

Now there's a fantasy for you!

Precious Memories

Last night I was outside walking the dogs when I looked up into the sky. It was dark and clear and about a million stars twinkled brightly. It took me back to a summer night many years ago...children on their backs on the damp grass, staring up into the sky, hoping to see a falling star.

I have so many memories of growing up in the rural south, but a lot of them are directly related to those lazy summer days that seemed to drag on forever. So much so that I would complain about how bored I was and count the days until school would start again. Yeah, okay, but I told you I was a nerd! It's really funny how a song, or a scent, or a night sky can bring so much of it back.

Sitting in a rocking chair on my grandma's porch, talking to her for hours on end about anything and everything and just watching the world go by. Running in the rain and smelling the freshness of it. Rolling down the huge hill behind my cousin's house, giggling all the way down and dizzily standing up when we reached the bottom, covered in grass. The cool evening breeze blowing across my face as I rode my bike every spare moment I had. The whole family quietly sitting together in the darkness after a huge picnic, listening to the sounds of the crickets and frogs singing their night songs. The whole family eating watermelon together, and the seed-spitting contest that always ensued. Running barefoot for the first time in the spring. Eating strawberries right there in the garden, the sweetest reddest strawberries I ever saw. Getting sick off the green apples growing off the trees in my grandma's yard. Catching fireflies...and then setting them free. Getting my pant leg caught in the chain of my bike and limping home attached to it, knowing I'd just created another pair of shorts and some Barbie doll clothes from the scraps of fabric that was left. Falling off the bike onto the gravel. Repeatedly. Mom putting iodine on the cuts on my knees. The scars that remain on them to this day to prove it. Playing baseball with my cousin in the yard...and the black eye he gave me with his wild pitch...and the ear-piercing scream it evoked that took 10 years off my mom's life and sent my cousin running home for cover. Fishing in the pond on great uncle Otis' farm.

They are all just random snapshots of various moments from my childhood. Each one cherished fondly. Each one crowding out all the painful memories that compete for space in my memory. Some of them don't surface very often, but when they do, they bring such a wonderfully warm feeling. There are so many more of them than I can even mention.

Isn't it weird how you hold on to these things without even trying? How they come back to comfort you and remind you that there were indeed some very good times in your life? I love that.

Happiness

You know, sometimes I get really philosophical, and it's usually in the strangest of places. This post was inspired by yet another trip to the grocery store, where some of my finest observations seem to occur.

Yesterday, I was noticing as I wheeled my cart through the aisles that not a single person was smiling. Some of them were alone, some with children, spouses, cell phones permanently attached to their ears. But not one of them smiling. I wasn't, either. I got to thinking that throughout the course of a normal day, it truly is rare to run across people that appear genuinely happy. Now, you can't count that "I'm only smiling because it's the polite thing to do and you smiled first, anyhow..." look that you frequently get. Those aren't what I'm talking about. But now that I've mentioned that, isn't it interesting how many of us do that all day long when we really just want to go home and change into some comfortable clothes and eat ice cream and wallow in whatever it is that's eating at us? Only me? I don't think so!

So what's the point? If we're all running around just faking it at best, or at worst not even trying, then why even bother? I asked a friend of mine about this. "Oh, I'm happy. Definitely. I just don't feel like showing it every second of every day." Huh? If you're truly happy, then doesn't it make sense that you'd want everyone to know? That you might even hope to spread that happiness around a little? I think we're all just too caught up in ourselves and our lives and our jam-packed schedules to really appreciate most of what's going on.

My son is going to be 3 in November. He was born with several heart defects. When he was 6 months old, he underwent open heart surgery. He came through it all like a little trooper. I wish I had handled it as well as he did. One of the doctors that I work with pointed out something to me at a barbecue not long ago. He was playing with my son, who was giggling uncontrollably. He knew what Brock had been through. He asked me if he's always that happy. And that's when he made a really big observation. He said that Brock's whole demeanor just shouted out how great it is to be alive. I've looked at my son differently ever since then. Before, I saw him as a survivor...tough and stoic. Now, I see that he embraces life to the fullest. He's a very happy child and every day seems to be a celebration of his existence. I love that about him. It's like this intrinsic part of him, that somehow he just knows he's been given this wonderful gift of life and he means to enjoy every second of it.

I wonder if we all were like that at one point. And if we were, where and when did we lose that? How do I keep my son from losing that? Why can't we all just enjoy being alive a little bit more? I'm as guilty as anybody. It's not hard for me to take things way too seriously. I'm a worrier by nature, even though my logical side says that it doesn't help at all. And I have a hard time relaxing. I'm trying to change all that for myself a little. It's not easy.

Maybe everybody just hates grocery shopping as much as I do. Maybe if I'd made the observation somewhere else, it wouldn't have seemed so grim. Maybe if it hadn't been 100 degrees outside, we all would have been smiling more.

And maybe we all just need to spend an afternoon with our kids, and learn a lesson or two from them....

Never Let 'Em See You Sweat

I hate being new at anything. Yes, I'm a control freak. But I'm a southern lady, so it's difficult to see. Because I was taught from a very young age that it's just not ladylike to show others when something's eating at you. I remember my grandma told me that when someone asks me how I am always say, "Why, I'm fine, thank you" because ladies don't share their problems with just everybody.

So, I got a promotion at work. Sort of a big deal and a good raise. I have now moved out of the hospital setting. Don't get me wrong, I've been in an administrative position for seven years now, but never out of the hospital. Now, I'm at corporate. Well, guess what? It doesn't get more business-like than this! Numbers, reports, offices, meetings, and not a white coat in sight. My job will allow me to return to the hospital setting on a regular basis, but only for meetings.

At orientation this past week, I was sitting in a room with 14 other women. All of them in management positions of some sort (but none of them a peer of mine). It was eerie. Like looking in a mirror. I could see 14 other control freaks. Detail-oriented, assertive people that don't like to hear the word no. I mean it was one scary room! And the scariest part was that I felt comfortable with them. However, I noticed that I've got this thing about me that they don't have.

Somewhere along the way, I picked up this outgoing, sweet demeanor. A friend of mine says I could put a knife in your back and you'd thank me for doing it. She says I pull out that Southern Belle routine and it's all over. It's not a routine, though. It comes naturally. It was the way I was raised. I like to make people smile, I like to get my way, and I like to convince people to give me what I want very willingly. That is my personal challenge in life. I don't come on really strong, although I absolutely can if needed. Those other women seemed a little brash to me. They came on too strong. I totally understand their motivation and their ambition, and I identify with it. I guess I just use a different approach.

Will it work for me? I don't know. Maybe over time I'll become more like the rest of them as I learn to navigate this new world. I've had a lot of success pulling out the old charm, though. I'm interested to see how effective it will be now. Am I scared about all this new stuff? Oh yes. Am I concerned about doing a good job? Absolutely. Am I going nuts about getting over the learning curve already? Is Jack Daniels made in a dry county?

How am I doing? Why, fine, thank you!

A Trip to the Other Side

Whew, is it hot or what? I mean, summer down here is complete with that god-awful humidity that can result in a shower furnished by your sweat glands to rival anything your indoor plumbing can produce.

So, I just got back from a trip up north. I went for business, with a side order of pleasure. I had checked the weather report a week beforehand. Eighty degree days and sixty degree nights. Alright! A break from the oven! But alas, it was not to be. The heatwave arrived around the same time I did, I think. It was still a good time. Hey, I'm used to this. The people were friendly, although some of them were taken aback when I spoke. Duly impressed with the genteel accent, no doubt. I appreciated being somewhere different. I was in New England, my first visit there. Such a rich history. And I think it's the first time I actually used the word charming to describe anything. But it really was just lovely there, and no other word seems to quite fit. Their hospitality could give us a run for our money down here, and I thought we were supposed to have that market cornered.

The plane trip home was interesting. I sat next to this guy who was a dead ringer for Larry the Cable Guy. I swear. Same outfit and everything. He was headed to Dallas (shocking, isn't it?). He says to me as I get up at the end of the flight to retrieve my laptop from the overhead, "Baby, just don't knock me in the head with that thing." I almost did it, just because he called me baby. The only thing that stopped me was I honestly don't believe he would've noticed the impact. I was also invited to dine with a very assertive man from New Jersey. He thought I needed some company while I sat in the airport. Did I mention how convenient a cell phone can be in those moments?

It can be a lot of fun to travel alone. You don't have to be on anyone's schedule except your own. You don't have to argue over where you're going to eat. You can see and do anything you want. The downside is that a lot of people think you need some company and try to make polite conversation ad nauseum. And seeing wonderful sights can be a little hollow when there's no one to share them with. But this trip gave me a chance to clear some cobwebs out of the old brain and recharge my batteries. Plus, I met some very nice people and saw a part of the country I'd never seen. I'd love to go back there and see some of the things I missed.

All us folks down here in Dixie can say all we want about southern hospitality. Some of them damn Yankees are downright friendly...and gracious. There. I said it. And meant it. Y'all just go ahead and talk about me. Just don't forget to say "bless her heart" when you do!