there's been a revolution taking place here at iGoddess, and i know there've been a few of you scratching your heads wondering just where it's come from, what i've been doing, and what i've been on.
to quote that totally cheesy cliché, i'm just high on life, baby! =)
but honestly, there's been a lot going on this last month. a lot. and i've been up to my eyeballs devoting so much of myself to these new changes, challenges, and commitments. i think the results have been more than obvious here, and the inner transformations that have been taking place.
everyone knows that iGoddess, in many of its incarnations, has been devoted to real personal growth. not to harp on the past, but i had a very challenging childhood and adolescence. there were a lot of obstacles and traumas that had stacked life unfavorably for me, and i've dedicated my life to overcoming all of that and being the person i've always wanted to be.
well, now i've made it a business.
my business...
...that i work from home...
...and i quit the grooming job to do it.
that's how much i believe in what i'm doing now. on the 16th, i went in to work and gave my notice. this is my vacation right now, but after a few weeks of part time that's gonna be it. i'm done there. instead of worrying or gritting my teeth about that great-job-turned-toxic-relationship and riding it out until it devours me from the inside out as the old me would have done, i just put it down and walked away. i put it down, walked away, and devoted myself to building something i believe in so strongly i've walked away from a dependable paycheck.
me. me! i mean, sheesh. remember when i couldn't let go of a petty insult, let alone letting go of a career that once made me so proud? and i just let it go.
and i've been so high on this empowerment, just riding the thermals i've discovered in the realm of belief in myself and in the universe. i think i've conveyed a little of that in my posts the last few weeks.
i made the decision to truly live my life as Delena of the Funkywild. i made the choice to truly be a Revolutionary Freedom Fighter for Beauty, Truth, and Finding the Funk. i made the commitment to myself to Be a successful leader, Do the things a successful leader would do, and Have the things a successful leader would have. it may seem cheesy to a pop nihilist, but i really do watch that movie i made every day when i wake up, before i go to bed, and several times in between; i meant what i said about coming into alignment with myself and i practice it; i wrote affirmations on post-its and have them all over my bathroom mirrors, and i do read them aloud whenever i'm in there (which is great when i'm putting on make-up!); i recite "the optimist's creed" by christian d. larson every day; i listen to holosync every night before going to bed; i work my own personal development product --workbook and journaling-- every day; i start every day with a business conference call that lifts me up, gets my head on straight, and is better than a cup of morning coffee.
in fact, it's replaced my morning caffeine. and i make that phone call without getting out of bed unless i feel like it!
yes, it sounds like a lot, but most of these only take a few minutes out of my day. and considering how crazy and busy things can get in life, i can't afford not to take the time to get myself in the right frame of mind. and it's only attracted so much positivity and abundance into my life, and has truly opened doors of opportunity for me. i've left everything behind that didn't serve me and propel me further in my mission to better myself, help others, and manifest every good thing i could ever dream of having in my life.
if it doesn't lift me up, it simply isn't in my life anymore. in fact, anything that drags you down --from people to jobs to your own thoughts-- is pretty dang useless if you ask me.
this included the grooming job, so i dropped it.
welcome to the Freedom Revolution, baby.
Showing posts with label grooming. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grooming. Show all posts
7.24.2008
6.19.2008
no good deed...
it seems señor murphy and his aggrivating Law have hit the salon hard this week. between two people being out for vacation, others being out sick, miscommunications, misunderstandings, a new bather, and just the simple misfortune of working for one of the Big Bad Daddies of the Phallocratic Corporate Hydra, it's been one @#*!-ing helluva week, lemme tell you.
and today we had the closing groomer go home sick (like puking sick, so we lovingly chased her out) and it would've been just the new bather by herself for two hours. i didn't feel it was right to do that to her (having been screwed over like that many times myself), so i told her i'd be back to help her with the closing shift. of course, i'd had the opening shift, so it was a very long day for me.
i spent a couple hours with my *sa*, and we had fun killing ourselves with laughter and playdough. but when i got back, it was to find i had 1 hr and 45 mins to work on a scottish terrier who was satan's lapdog in a former life. i walked away from that one bloody, just to let you know. but i wasn't supposed to have any dogs, just help my bather by being there to take all the extraneous duties, e.g. answering phones, doing nail trims, checking out dogs to go home, etc, so she could bathe her dogs and then we could clean and close together.
i had told my store manager this, and that i was voluntarily coming back purely to help her close. it was his call when this dog came in to give it to me, without letting me know that i'd have over an hour less than the prescribed three-hour window in which to work on this dog. the damn dog's owner had to stand with me at my table and hold this hellion while i tried to groom it in-between being gnawed like a hot dog on a stick.
which means that i was now completely unavailable to help my bather with all those things that she then got swamped doing...because i got screwed by a store manager in a bad mood. i made it up to her, however, with starschmuck's white chocolate mocha (too many girls in the salon give money to starschmuck's; it's so sad).
part of me left work feeling rather bitter, that no good deed goes unpunished. i'm unbelievably exhausted, and bitten, bloody, sore, and sacrificed my entire day just so someone else wouldn't feel screwed over. however, i didn't do it for anyone except that new girl, and she thought i was rather amazing for a.) coming back to help out, and b.) bringing her favorite coffee.
that was the point.
who says we can't help the universe shower blessings upon others once in a while?
and today we had the closing groomer go home sick (like puking sick, so we lovingly chased her out) and it would've been just the new bather by herself for two hours. i didn't feel it was right to do that to her (having been screwed over like that many times myself), so i told her i'd be back to help her with the closing shift. of course, i'd had the opening shift, so it was a very long day for me.
i spent a couple hours with my *sa*, and we had fun killing ourselves with laughter and playdough. but when i got back, it was to find i had 1 hr and 45 mins to work on a scottish terrier who was satan's lapdog in a former life. i walked away from that one bloody, just to let you know. but i wasn't supposed to have any dogs, just help my bather by being there to take all the extraneous duties, e.g. answering phones, doing nail trims, checking out dogs to go home, etc, so she could bathe her dogs and then we could clean and close together.
i had told my store manager this, and that i was voluntarily coming back purely to help her close. it was his call when this dog came in to give it to me, without letting me know that i'd have over an hour less than the prescribed three-hour window in which to work on this dog. the damn dog's owner had to stand with me at my table and hold this hellion while i tried to groom it in-between being gnawed like a hot dog on a stick.
which means that i was now completely unavailable to help my bather with all those things that she then got swamped doing...because i got screwed by a store manager in a bad mood. i made it up to her, however, with starschmuck's white chocolate mocha (too many girls in the salon give money to starschmuck's; it's so sad).
part of me left work feeling rather bitter, that no good deed goes unpunished. i'm unbelievably exhausted, and bitten, bloody, sore, and sacrificed my entire day just so someone else wouldn't feel screwed over. however, i didn't do it for anyone except that new girl, and she thought i was rather amazing for a.) coming back to help out, and b.) bringing her favorite coffee.
that was the point.
who says we can't help the universe shower blessings upon others once in a while?
4.28.2008
seppuku sunday
there's a definite Something going around the salon. this weekend we had three girls call in sick. on a weekend! on a gorgeous weekend, no less!oi vey...
in the retail world, the weekend is usually the busiest time of the week. in the grooming world, it's pretty much the same. most people are home, got things to do, have people coming over, and the dog needs a bath or a trim. fluffy's getting so shaggy you can't even see his cute little brown eyes anymore, and he's starting to bump into things, poor kid. and bruiser rolled in pond mud and smells like stagnant water and duck crap. mm-mmm! nothing smells sexier to a dog than eu de what-the-fuck-is-that-stink. so to the salon they go!
of course, being short-staffed on a weekend is a death sentence for everyone else. i ended up pulling a 10-hr shift on saturday because there was no one else who was willing to close up the shop. of course, we were so slammed i never got an opportunity for any breaks or a lunch, which i got wrist-slapped for yesterday. of course, the same thing happened yesterday, but what can you do, hmm? and on saturday we got a visit from the wicked witch of the pacific northwest, whose dogs i had the extreme privelege of grooming.
can you just feel the sarcasm from there?
oh wow, this woman and her dogs were a piece of work. she harrassed me, insulted me, accused me of abusing her dogs, just all sorts of things. i can't help it her wretched yorkies were little monsters and bit me constantly. i slapped her with twenty dollars in special handling fees --which were approved by the mgr and to which she agreed-- and only when she continued to insult me and get hostile did my lovely disposition go out the window. i was always polite, but i won that insult contest hands down, and ended the conversation by turning my back on her and walking away.
some people only respond when you prove you're better at the game than they are, sadly enough. i hate being that way, and it takes quite a bit to push me that far. but don't insult my work when you haven't trained your dogs properly, and especially don't accuse me of animal abuse. animals and children are sacrosanct, thank you. people tend to forget their dogs' behavior reflects their own capabilities as pet parents. having helped train a service dog, where the quality of training and behavior are nose and tail above pet-quality animals, i know the difference very well.
however, i ended my weekend over at my parents'. have i mentioned how much i love them, and love going to their house? dad made menudo, and i always conveniently "forget" that i'm vegetarian whenever he makes it. i just can't help it! and dad fixed me two double ginger presses. basically it's whiskey and ginger ale, but he makes them much stronger than i do. a pint glass for me usually has a can of soda and half a shot, but he makes 'em double strength. and after dinner he had me try this very lovely port.
needless to say i stayed over last night...
i slept in their camper, and listening to the rain early this morning was glorious. the full-size bed was gloriously soft, and i pretty much crashed and slept the sleep of a happy daughter safe at mom and dad's. this morning dad and i enjoyed a cup of coffee together, and conversation. he got ready for work, and i went home --arms full of leftovers, as usual.
dad's such a wonderful cook. any man i find is gonna earn so many extra bonus points if i get to watch him enjoy himself in the kitchen. personally, i love puttering around and have always found the kitchen to be "my" territory, but my dad's the most masculine gentleman i know and watching him in the kitchen is part of that masculinity. my mom's definitely the luckiest woman in the world, i think. i'm the second luckiest: he's my dad.
3.18.2008
brezsny-on-the-blog
CAPRICORN (Dec 22-Jan 19): You would stir up exciting changes in your approach to life in you took time in the next few weeks to find out more about the crowning achievements of your most intriguing ancestors. It will also be a favorable time for you to engage in dreamy conversations with the historical figures you admire most, and to muse in luxurious detail on memories of events that were crucial in making you who you are. For extra credit, have fun imagining who you were in your last two incarnations. The past has gifts to give you, Capricorn. Go gather them up.
it's a thing, now, in the silverfox den, to read aloud mr. brezsny's horoscopes for ourselves when they come in each week. i read *ks*'s, after forgetting each week what astrological sign is actually his (oi...), and then *ds*'s, and then mine last.
after i read mine, the only thing i could say was, "...and why does this make absolutely no sense?"
then i began to really think about it. last week's horoscope was basically "you'll squeeze every drop of everything and every opportunity this week, capricorn, if you can learn to laugh at everything." however, to my detriment, the Stupid Work Thing has drained my sense of humor along with my energy. there was no laughing. there was lots of reflux, compulsive eating, and puking before my shift...but no laughter.
this week there is "the past is your hidden treasure trove, cappy. use it to change your approach to life and see things differently and in a more pronoiac way."
it didn't even really make sense until that email from greggo popped in my head:
it's kinda funny. when the bio-dad would accuse me of something absolutely ludicrous and based on nothing more than his assumption that any female having achieved puberty was duplicitous, wilfully rebellious against him, and wanton to the point of filth, i used to just shrug and say, "that's okay, believe what you want. i know the truth." i'd finally given up trying to convince him i was a worthwhile and good human being, and while something in me had broken and i no longer cared about being punished (because it was going to happen either way), i used those words to goad him and also let him know there was some small core of me he would never, ever be able to touch.
greggo's echo of those very words were actually a comfort.
at the same time, he knows how violently i rail against injustice and how sick it makes me to watch the exploitation of the weak. i'm thankful someone out there understands that. actually, my whole adoptive family understands. even *cc*, though she doesn't understand why, and i can see why she wouldn't grasp it fully. she's a military medic, and her specialty is triage. if you can't personally deal with a situation --due to lack of supplies, manpower, or the realities of what it is in a person's power to actually do-- then you just don't worry about it and what will happen will happen.
i, on the other hand, rail against that inability.
the injustice and illogic of the situation in the salon, and the store in general, infuriates me. but, as greggo well knows and pointed out to me, it is my own helplessness and feeling of utter castration in this situation that's making me so sick. i didn't embrace my inner revolutionary freedom fighter just to sit and sweat in some egoist's hotbox and accept the realities of utter impotence.
fighting for a healthy, safe place to work and live is nothing more than fighting for my own health and happiness. the reality of my situation is that i have been, or am, in the course of my life an abused child, recovering SI'er, codependent, and bipolar. certain situations kick off that chemical imbalance in my brain. being the pronoiac and naturopathist i am, part of my ongoing treatment is fending off those situations that would tip me over into imbalance.
i simply want to be healthy, godsdammit.
the wholistic thing to do would be to participate in fixing the problem, leaving things a little cleaner and neater than i found them for those who come after me...in every situation. just "getting out" by transferring doesn't fix anything. of course, on the other hand, as in the situation with *m*, at some point i'm going to have to accept that the situation can never be fixed, and all i can do is get the hell outta dodge before the whole damn thing collapses under the weight of its own shit. let the karmic chips fall where they may, and get out with a whole skin.
i've let this thing affect me for too long. i haven't been to the gym in weeks. i've been eating dairy products and not giving a shit how they tear me up. i've been compulsive/comfort eating again: starches, salt, and sugar. taco bell, for cryin' out loud! freakin' ACK!! i've been drinking alcohol and soda, and smoking djarum blacks (clove cigarettes) looking for the buzz from alcohol, caffiene, and tobacco. i'm suppressing, again.
all of which not only makes me sicker in various ways, but impedes getting better. and no, they're not the same thing.
yeah, greggo, you're right. i wanna fight back against the lame, unjust illogic of it all and i know i can't. my anger is consuming me.
but not for long. i am a revolutionary freedom fighter for beauty, truth, and the Funk. i am a daughter of the Menstrual Temple, and scion of Lilith --Night Mother of Vengeance and Independence. i am a witch, i run with the silverfox pack, and am House Mother of the House of Dragons' Rest. i am pronoiac, i am woman, i am delena.
not for long. so the fuck mote it be.
it's a thing, now, in the silverfox den, to read aloud mr. brezsny's horoscopes for ourselves when they come in each week. i read *ks*'s, after forgetting each week what astrological sign is actually his (oi...), and then *ds*'s, and then mine last.
after i read mine, the only thing i could say was, "...and why does this make absolutely no sense?"
then i began to really think about it. last week's horoscope was basically "you'll squeeze every drop of everything and every opportunity this week, capricorn, if you can learn to laugh at everything." however, to my detriment, the Stupid Work Thing has drained my sense of humor along with my energy. there was no laughing. there was lots of reflux, compulsive eating, and puking before my shift...but no laughter.
this week there is "the past is your hidden treasure trove, cappy. use it to change your approach to life and see things differently and in a more pronoiac way."
it didn't even really make sense until that email from greggo popped in my head:
but for you, in your life, you know what you need to do. don't let it get to you. don't let the stress ruin your health. don't let the anger destroy you. it took me a long time, honestly, to realize how angry you can get. and i'm not saying your anger is not legitimate, or even completely reasonable and understandable. but we both know that it's not healthy for YOU. ...that is how i see you letting your anger destroy you. you want vengeance, you want to fight back against the injustice and illogic of the fucktards who by some luck of the draw have managed to rise up to a position of management. but since you can't fight back without losing your job, you have to hold it in, and that makes it tear at your soul, at the center of your core, and THAT is what is causing you to bleed.
just be who you are, do your job in the kickass way you always have, and whatever happens is going to happen anyway. no matter what, you'll still be you, you'll still know the truth.
it's kinda funny. when the bio-dad would accuse me of something absolutely ludicrous and based on nothing more than his assumption that any female having achieved puberty was duplicitous, wilfully rebellious against him, and wanton to the point of filth, i used to just shrug and say, "that's okay, believe what you want. i know the truth." i'd finally given up trying to convince him i was a worthwhile and good human being, and while something in me had broken and i no longer cared about being punished (because it was going to happen either way), i used those words to goad him and also let him know there was some small core of me he would never, ever be able to touch.
greggo's echo of those very words were actually a comfort.
at the same time, he knows how violently i rail against injustice and how sick it makes me to watch the exploitation of the weak. i'm thankful someone out there understands that. actually, my whole adoptive family understands. even *cc*, though she doesn't understand why, and i can see why she wouldn't grasp it fully. she's a military medic, and her specialty is triage. if you can't personally deal with a situation --due to lack of supplies, manpower, or the realities of what it is in a person's power to actually do-- then you just don't worry about it and what will happen will happen.
i, on the other hand, rail against that inability.
the injustice and illogic of the situation in the salon, and the store in general, infuriates me. but, as greggo well knows and pointed out to me, it is my own helplessness and feeling of utter castration in this situation that's making me so sick. i didn't embrace my inner revolutionary freedom fighter just to sit and sweat in some egoist's hotbox and accept the realities of utter impotence.
fighting for a healthy, safe place to work and live is nothing more than fighting for my own health and happiness. the reality of my situation is that i have been, or am, in the course of my life an abused child, recovering SI'er, codependent, and bipolar. certain situations kick off that chemical imbalance in my brain. being the pronoiac and naturopathist i am, part of my ongoing treatment is fending off those situations that would tip me over into imbalance.
i simply want to be healthy, godsdammit.
the wholistic thing to do would be to participate in fixing the problem, leaving things a little cleaner and neater than i found them for those who come after me...in every situation. just "getting out" by transferring doesn't fix anything. of course, on the other hand, as in the situation with *m*, at some point i'm going to have to accept that the situation can never be fixed, and all i can do is get the hell outta dodge before the whole damn thing collapses under the weight of its own shit. let the karmic chips fall where they may, and get out with a whole skin.
i've let this thing affect me for too long. i haven't been to the gym in weeks. i've been eating dairy products and not giving a shit how they tear me up. i've been compulsive/comfort eating again: starches, salt, and sugar. taco bell, for cryin' out loud! freakin' ACK!! i've been drinking alcohol and soda, and smoking djarum blacks (clove cigarettes) looking for the buzz from alcohol, caffiene, and tobacco. i'm suppressing, again.
all of which not only makes me sicker in various ways, but impedes getting better. and no, they're not the same thing.
yeah, greggo, you're right. i wanna fight back against the lame, unjust illogic of it all and i know i can't. my anger is consuming me.
but not for long. i am a revolutionary freedom fighter for beauty, truth, and the Funk. i am a daughter of the Menstrual Temple, and scion of Lilith --Night Mother of Vengeance and Independence. i am a witch, i run with the silverfox pack, and am House Mother of the House of Dragons' Rest. i am pronoiac, i am woman, i am delena.
not for long. so the fuck mote it be.
3.16.2008
lots to say, none which is interesting
...to say the least.
taking my shower earlier, there were actually quite a few topics rolling about in my head like marbles. but really, honestly, i'm so damn tired i really don't give a crap about any of them. i'm so tired i give these jaw-cracking yawns all day long, my brain is dead, and my body feels weak like it's getting sick.
and no, i'm not getting sick.
and yet i can't fall asleep, godsdammit. i dread sleeping, i don't want to do it, because when i wake up i'll have to go to work, and i fucking hate that fucking place right now. i've increasingly hated it over the past few months. and there seems no good way out. my only way out --quitting-- is just another version of an anal rape in the dark over a barrel with sand in the vaseline. indentured servants can't up and quit their jobs.
just fucking transfer me, assholes.
taking my shower earlier, there were actually quite a few topics rolling about in my head like marbles. but really, honestly, i'm so damn tired i really don't give a crap about any of them. i'm so tired i give these jaw-cracking yawns all day long, my brain is dead, and my body feels weak like it's getting sick.
and no, i'm not getting sick.
and yet i can't fall asleep, godsdammit. i dread sleeping, i don't want to do it, because when i wake up i'll have to go to work, and i fucking hate that fucking place right now. i've increasingly hated it over the past few months. and there seems no good way out. my only way out --quitting-- is just another version of an anal rape in the dark over a barrel with sand in the vaseline. indentured servants can't up and quit their jobs.
just fucking transfer me, assholes.
3.15.2008
what, me stressed??
so yesterday i'm at work bathing my 3:30 appointment, a standard poodle mix named jacques. he's quite the sweetheart and perhaps is the exception to my rule to hate all doodles. he's a sweetheart, and he can't help it stupid people made him a mutt and are making themselves look stupid trying to make him an AKC standard breed.
(for those of you unfamiliar with the dog world or its lingo and nicknames, "doodles" is the unofficial nickname for any breed mixed with a poodle. e.g. labradoodles, goldendoodles, schnoodles, stupiddoodles... except for "yorkiepoos." UGH.)
and no shit, there i was, rinsing off his beautiful head with his warm hazel eyes, and suddenly i'm doubled over in piercing lower abdomen pain. i shut off the water --ever the desert creature, brainwashed at an early age to cringe at all waste of water-- and collapsed against the wall. this was, like, holy-shit-i'm-freaking-OUT kind of pain. i went into mild shock kinda pain.
i put jacques the doodle away in his kennel soaking wet, poor thing, and apologized profusely. but i was also sweating and shaking, the pain was so bad, and i hoped he'd understand. then i just headed for the back, because if i was gonna puke, dammit i was gonna puke in a toilet and not all over the floor.
i made a beeline for the door through the salon, doubled over, and the acting manager (since the manager lady got herself transferred due to Stupid Political Crap at work) and one of the other groomers asked if i was okay, what was the matter? i gasped out an, "i have no idea" and kept walking. i was fucking scared.
with no luck in the bathroom, with both of those groomers' help, i made it to the break room and just sat for a while until the world stopped spinning. i'd say i was sweating like a pig, but pigs don't sweat. my general manager and one of the floor managers were there, and they asked if i was okay. the GM left, but said he'd check on me later. being the stubborn bitch i am, the minute i could stand mostly upright, i went back to the bathroom.
what scared me even more than BAM!-out-of-the-blue, twist-me-into-a-pretzel pain was finding blood when it's nowhere near my time of the month. some girls have the occasional spotting, some have the occasional surprise early or irregular period.
NOT ME, DAMMIT!!!!
you could set your watch by me. i'm the chick everybody hates. no cramps, no spotting, no bloating, no soreness, and in three days i'm done. sometimes less than that. yeah, i'll get antsy a week before and crave spaghetti like nobody's business, but so what? so i get to make my fan-fucking-tastic delena spaghetti once a month and everybody benefits! this doesn't happen to me, dammit!!
of course, the only thing going through my head was when my grandma had cancer and this was how it started. she's years in the grave, and it was a fucking wad of fun watching the cancer just eat her up until she wasted away and died. i was slightly scared, to say the least.
i called up my doctor, but wasn't able to get a hold of anyone until this morning. i called in to work, but my GM had left a note for the other managers that i probably wouldn't be in today and it was okay. that was thoughtful. but anyway, i spoke to a nurse, and she said it was most likely a cyst, and the bleeding? stress.
BLOODY FUCKING ZIPPY YAY YUMMY FUN.
i've never had my body react to stress like this. usually i toe the edge of a mental breakdown, have another violent flare-up of IBS, and catch some type of bug that lasts for weeks. like the flu. it's cost me a job or two in the past, because it stressed me out until my health was on the midden heap. but bleeding? yeah, let's just go from zero to scare the crap out of me in 2.5 seconds.
of course, you could say it's really my body telling me something. and i know things have sucked at work lately. i haven't written about it --which makes me feel worse, actually-- because the wrong person could read those entries and take advantage of them, and then there goes my fantastic, perfect career. and there are a few people who read this blog who are dirty enough cunts to endanger my job. i know this. i don't change what i say because i couldn't care less about it. i value my honesty, and i love this blog too much to let them keep me from shining. but i'm also not stupid, either.
i just wasn't aware that work was stressing me out this badly. something seriously needs to be done, and i think i just need to be transferred ASAFP.
at least i got to take a nap today...
(for those of you unfamiliar with the dog world or its lingo and nicknames, "doodles" is the unofficial nickname for any breed mixed with a poodle. e.g. labradoodles, goldendoodles, schnoodles, stupiddoodles... except for "yorkiepoos." UGH.)
and no shit, there i was, rinsing off his beautiful head with his warm hazel eyes, and suddenly i'm doubled over in piercing lower abdomen pain. i shut off the water --ever the desert creature, brainwashed at an early age to cringe at all waste of water-- and collapsed against the wall. this was, like, holy-shit-i'm-freaking-OUT kind of pain. i went into mild shock kinda pain.
i put jacques the doodle away in his kennel soaking wet, poor thing, and apologized profusely. but i was also sweating and shaking, the pain was so bad, and i hoped he'd understand. then i just headed for the back, because if i was gonna puke, dammit i was gonna puke in a toilet and not all over the floor.
i made a beeline for the door through the salon, doubled over, and the acting manager (since the manager lady got herself transferred due to Stupid Political Crap at work) and one of the other groomers asked if i was okay, what was the matter? i gasped out an, "i have no idea" and kept walking. i was fucking scared.
with no luck in the bathroom, with both of those groomers' help, i made it to the break room and just sat for a while until the world stopped spinning. i'd say i was sweating like a pig, but pigs don't sweat. my general manager and one of the floor managers were there, and they asked if i was okay. the GM left, but said he'd check on me later. being the stubborn bitch i am, the minute i could stand mostly upright, i went back to the bathroom.
what scared me even more than BAM!-out-of-the-blue, twist-me-into-a-pretzel pain was finding blood when it's nowhere near my time of the month. some girls have the occasional spotting, some have the occasional surprise early or irregular period.
NOT ME, DAMMIT!!!!
you could set your watch by me. i'm the chick everybody hates. no cramps, no spotting, no bloating, no soreness, and in three days i'm done. sometimes less than that. yeah, i'll get antsy a week before and crave spaghetti like nobody's business, but so what? so i get to make my fan-fucking-tastic delena spaghetti once a month and everybody benefits! this doesn't happen to me, dammit!!
of course, the only thing going through my head was when my grandma had cancer and this was how it started. she's years in the grave, and it was a fucking wad of fun watching the cancer just eat her up until she wasted away and died. i was slightly scared, to say the least.
i called up my doctor, but wasn't able to get a hold of anyone until this morning. i called in to work, but my GM had left a note for the other managers that i probably wouldn't be in today and it was okay. that was thoughtful. but anyway, i spoke to a nurse, and she said it was most likely a cyst, and the bleeding? stress.
BLOODY FUCKING ZIPPY YAY YUMMY FUN.
i've never had my body react to stress like this. usually i toe the edge of a mental breakdown, have another violent flare-up of IBS, and catch some type of bug that lasts for weeks. like the flu. it's cost me a job or two in the past, because it stressed me out until my health was on the midden heap. but bleeding? yeah, let's just go from zero to scare the crap out of me in 2.5 seconds.
of course, you could say it's really my body telling me something. and i know things have sucked at work lately. i haven't written about it --which makes me feel worse, actually-- because the wrong person could read those entries and take advantage of them, and then there goes my fantastic, perfect career. and there are a few people who read this blog who are dirty enough cunts to endanger my job. i know this. i don't change what i say because i couldn't care less about it. i value my honesty, and i love this blog too much to let them keep me from shining. but i'm also not stupid, either.
i just wasn't aware that work was stressing me out this badly. something seriously needs to be done, and i think i just need to be transferred ASAFP.
at least i got to take a nap today...
1.11.2008
kitty kitty dang fang
if you could see me right now, you'd either be telling me that blogging should be the least of my worries, or you'd understand the warped sense of dedication i have to my blog after six years of chronicling my whacked-out life online and would be laughing at me. just shaking your head and laughing.today was a wonderful day at work. it was a wonderful day, period. i slept in, woke up in *sy*'s arms, went home and took a bit of a nap. i treated myself to lunch before going in to work, as i had the closing shift and had the time. my dad called to confirm what we're having for my celebratory birthday dinner on sunday: dhaal (which i've been seriously craving for weeks), a lamb dish for everyone else (of which yes, i will sample a little so i don't feel like i'm spurning my dear daddy's effing awesome cooking), some sort of cucumber salad, and dessert. at least, i think dessert.
today was a great day at work. everyone was cheerful, i was in a great mood. one of the managers from the tigard store stopped in, as he does from time to time, so i got to say hi to him. and, once again, he asked me when i was going to just transfer over to tigard, it's much better there, anyway? i laughed, but it feels good. they love me in tigard. they liked me at the gresham store, too.
i didn't have any appointments in my 3:30 slot, so instead i did some deep cleaning in the back. i moved the kennels away from the walls and cleaned behind them and beneath them, and then i called back some customers and tried to set up future appointments, filled in missing gaps in some dogs' info, etc. it was great. stuff that needs to get done but never does because we're so dang busy finally had a chance to get done.
then the manager lady asked me to help her groom a kitty. it was a lion cut on a smoky grey persian, what we lovingly refer to as "smooshy-face kitty" in the salon. the kitty was on his back, and i had hold of his forelegs. the manager lady had hold of one hind leg, and was shaving his belly.
well, kitty had something to say about that.
at first it was just a bit of whining and squirming, but that's nothing new. even the nicest kitties will sometimes protest at the lack of dignity we offer them as we splay them spread-eagle on the table and shave 'em nekkid. then was a bit of hissing, and once or twice he wiggled and tried to go after the manager lady, clearly with "die, bitch!" on his whiskered, kitty lips.
then came the feline four-letter words and, lemme tell you, this cat cussed like a wagon driver. i turned to the bather that was standing nearby, chuckling with us at the poor kitty's demise. "cover your ears, my child," said i.
we laughed.
oh, such famous last words were never spoken.
kitty lunged for my hand. now, something about persians. their faces are so freakin' flat that, most of the time when they go to bite you, they bounce off their own foreheads and all you end up getting is a pissed-off cat butting its face against you. "ha ha!" you can say. "smooshy-face kitty no bitey!" this one time, also assisting with a persian lion cut, the kitty went to bite me several times but just bounced its face off my hand. "stop hittin' yerself! stop hittin' yerself!" i was saying, and the manager lady was laughing her head off.
ah, kitty karma, you're such a bitch.
not only did this cat bite me, he laid into me like my thumb was a hot dog on a stick. i felt those teeth completely punch through skin, and my tendons were crunching around like the stick of said aforementioned hot dog. of course, anyone who either has cats or handles animals on a regular basis knows the first thing NOT to do is to pull away when a dog or cat has any of your body parts in its mouth. that's the surefire way to do even more damage to yourself than the animal would do for you.
so i sat there and let kitty eat my hand. when he was finally done and i could take my hand away, he immediately went for the manager lady, free paw swinging wildly at her face. "c'mere, bitch!" there were five puncture wounds all in the fleshy part beneath my thumb at the large knuckle, and one in the webbing between thumb and forefinger. three were so deep i could see meat, and the bruising goes clear through to my palm. at the time, i had limited mobility in my ring and pinky finger, but it was just enough to drive the Funkmobile (which is a standard) to urgent care.
i'm grounded from work tomorrow, for which i threw a mighty fit in the salon, because i fucking need and WANT to work, dammit! i love my job, and i love paying bills.
wait...
i so didn't mean that the way it sounded.
so i got my gimpy hand and am doing this neat finger tapdance on the keyboard, trying to type with three working fingers: middle (yay! i can still give the bird!), ring, and pinky. my index finger is limited because of the bites in the webbing, it hurts in the muscle. and my thumb is all but immobile. the numbness is gone, and in its place is a nice, dull ache. nothing that really bothers me until i, y'know, actually try to do anything.
so all i can say is...yeah. bad kitty. bad, baaaad kitty!
12.08.2007
going to the dogs
every day needs to be like yesterday at work. when i got there, i had only three dogs on my books. one of which was a lhasa apso named "yeti." and omg, when he got there, i saw a nose...and hair.
the abominable lhasa.
but one of the girls had to leave early, so i inherited a lot of her appointments. one of mine cancelled last-minute, but thank the gods because i was still grooming up until forty minutes before close.
the last dog i had was a dark apricot standard poodle named robie, but i swear, with that topknot as poofy as it was? when he came in, i grinned and said, "hey, buckwheat!" his owner laughed.
i made twenty dollars in tips yesterday. yes, that sounds kinda good, but customers haven't been tipping at all lately. even a couple dollars is actually being remarked upon in the salon now. hell, i made more in tips when i was strictly bathing dogs. but i averaged twenty dollars an hour yesterday, and that's not too bad. it needs to be more, though. i need more dogs, bigger dogs, bigger packages.
and yes, when i say things like that, i'm thinking strictly of my paycheck.
when i think of the dogs, though, i don't care if i have only three dogs on my books. i love them all.
10.05.2007
have i mentioned i love my job?
speaking of compliments, apparently this came to the managers' email box at work on the 24th last month...
Comments:
Delena in grooming is wonderful! A great asset to your company. Not only did she reassure me that she could take excellent care of my dog, due to the fact that he has had hip surgery and has been recently diagnosed with a cancerous tumor, but she followed through with everything that she promised. I had stopped back by and noticed that she had someone holding him up to make sure he was not under any extra stress. She called as soon as she was done. When I arrived, Joey was with Delena, very happy and comfortable. I know it's not easy grooming an older dog with so many problems. She did an excellent job. Thank you very much, Delena, for being such a caring person. I will be recommending Delena to all my friends!
and it was from a customer who actually came into our store and spoke with my general manager in order to get the phone number so she could actually call up someone in Corporate...just to tell them about me.
in a time when i've been under constant and ever-increasing stress for the past two months, tips are non-existent, things are chaotic at work, i'm sick as a dog horking everywhere, and payroll has fucked up my paycheck for third time in a row and have severly shorted me...
...i got this. there's actually supposed to be a little to-do at work about this, with a special pin for me to wear and some other stuff, but that never happened. however, i don't care about that. just getting the email was enough. it's nice to know that sometimes people actually notice.
Comments:
Delena in grooming is wonderful! A great asset to your company. Not only did she reassure me that she could take excellent care of my dog, due to the fact that he has had hip surgery and has been recently diagnosed with a cancerous tumor, but she followed through with everything that she promised. I had stopped back by and noticed that she had someone holding him up to make sure he was not under any extra stress. She called as soon as she was done. When I arrived, Joey was with Delena, very happy and comfortable. I know it's not easy grooming an older dog with so many problems. She did an excellent job. Thank you very much, Delena, for being such a caring person. I will be recommending Delena to all my friends!
and it was from a customer who actually came into our store and spoke with my general manager in order to get the phone number so she could actually call up someone in Corporate...just to tell them about me.
in a time when i've been under constant and ever-increasing stress for the past two months, tips are non-existent, things are chaotic at work, i'm sick as a dog horking everywhere, and payroll has fucked up my paycheck for third time in a row and have severly shorted me...
...i got this. there's actually supposed to be a little to-do at work about this, with a special pin for me to wear and some other stuff, but that never happened. however, i don't care about that. just getting the email was enough. it's nice to know that sometimes people actually notice.
8.13.2007
actions speak louder than words
this place is my downfall.i can tell i'm getting to a really bad place. not only have i not been eating well, i've been eating things with faces lately. chicken. fish. beef.
gods, it's so gross, but it's like i can't stop. and i've been smoking a lot lately, too.
it's one of my lingering verybad habits left over from my high school days. when i'm really stressed, i'll eat tons of crap until i can't stand it, then i'll starve myself and commit suicide at the gym. i'm hitting that "can't stand it" stage. however, i haven't indulged myself in this bad habit of mine in quite a few years. until now, anyway. that makes me nervous.
i've been seriously thinking about calling the whole thing off and not moving. i have. i've been weighing my options, standing a lot of things up to logic. the largest point of logic being if A, then B. if *m* is now definitely leaving his job with the county over there, but still wants to be a cop, then why not move him up here and get him a job with the portland PD? they're looking for men right now. it would be better for me in countless ways. but that's just it.
it would be better for me. not us. better for us is idaho.
on the way to chipotle --home of the UnGodly Burrito of Doom-- i stopped by the other salon where i was working back in july. i needed some paperwork info, but the salon manager and i started talking. we've been so excruciatingly slow at my home salon she offered me a table at her salon to help me get through this gap. the faster i'll be making commission, in other words, and the faster i can move to idaho.
i jumped on that offer faster than a cat on a cricket.
just goes to show: no matter how much i'm hating life right now, no matter how much sleep i'm not getting, how much i'm punishing my body, how much anger i'm repressing, or how much stress and fear are ruining me right now...it's all just temporary, and i know what i want.
and what i want is to move to idaho.
6.22.2007
miracles, marvels, and magical remedies
we lost another girl at the salon today. she didn't call, didn't show up for the second day in a row, and poor manager lady's so fed up with crap like this that the poor girl's gone. i have no idea what the circumstances of the new-yet-soon-to-be-gone girl's situation is, and frankly i really don't care.
her being fired makes no difference to my workload.
the miracle is that an older couple asked if there was any job for their seventeen year-old granddaughter at the salon. the manager lady and i both perked up our ears, and she couldn't stop gushing about how we need help while i couldn't jot down our website fast enough.
also, we've not only been severely shorthanded at the salon lately, but some of our most vital equipment died three weeks ago, and we haven't been getting in our new supply orders for the last month or so. we've been having to borrow from other stores, or take inventory off our own floor. it's been a nightmare. and i've been coming in a half-hour early (off the clock) to prep the back because of our broken machinery, which means having to mix every single soap we have by hand, and making sure there's a fresh bottle at each station, in addition to everything else i do to open the salon. frankly, i really have to wonder how we've been pulling off the work we have, since all of us have been running out of orifices from which to pull out miracles.
and yet we do, every single day.
so someone from the pet care dept. discovers, "hey, what are all those boxes up on the steel rafters?" turns out our orders had been coming in, it's just that no one in supply (night shift) actually did what they were supposed to. they're supposed to stack it all in our salon and let us unpack it, but nooooo. instead they just took the forklift and put it up in the rafters and didn't tell anyone, didn't label anything, and let it sit there while we worked our asses off, running around like decapitated poultry with no supplies and less-than-adequate staff.
so the other day, five weeks' worth of supplies were stacked up along the wall. it felt like freakin' yule in there. and somewhere in-between sepuku sunday and yesterday, our equipment was repaired. i can go back to taking my time opening up shop again.
and poor *v*. she had that tears-pressing-behind-the-eyes look she gets when she's stressed out. she's really emotional, and you barely have to scratch the surface to get tons of emotion out of her. but once i learned how she needs to be handled, she's great. but she was leaving for a break and turned back to me. "if i seem a little snappish today, i'm sorry," she said. "i really don't know what's wrong with me, but i think it's pms."
me: "eat chocolate!"
*v*: "i've been eating lots of chocolate, but i think it's just making it worse."
the manager lady: "what about a nap after you get home, or something?"
*v*: "no, i got my daughter. plus, i haven't been sleeping well."
me: "buy a vibrator!"
all of us: *falling in a heap of giggles*
the manager lady: "hey, yeah! y'know, you could get one of those wallet-sized ones. oh, dang, what are they called?"
me: "the bullet!"
the manager lady: "yeah, that's it! go buy a bullet. they're so awesome..."
*v*: *blushing and laughing* "oh, delena, that's the first time i've laughed all day."
hey, welcome to the wonderful world of vibratory magical remedies, baby, yeah! i know when i bought johnny west it was great. cheered me right up, even though at the time my (then) husband and i hadn't seen any action for two years. i suppose he just found his socks far more interesting. but i bought johnny, and WOW! it was great!
endless hours of harrassing the stupid-ass big *c* cheered me right the fuck up. i'd turn it on and stick it in his ear, or poke him in the ass and shriek with laughter as he freaked out, oh, all sorts of things. i'd stand it up right in front of the alarm clock so when it went off in the morning, johnny was the first thing big *c* grabbed.
oh, it was great.
and yeah, leave it to me to know exactly what the manager lady was talking about and call it by name. i've actually been thinking about buying a bullet for a while. it just seems too practical a "just in case" item to have stashed in the purse, y'know? except...i dunno. i never use them for their original intended purpose. i guess i'm just not really that much of a manage au moi kind of girl, and i've never had an... *ahem* ...open-minded playmate who didn't feel threatened by toys. i'd rather wait, and let the anticipation build until "business" has me knocking over my headboard to the Shrine of Sci-Fantasy Goodness and i'm scraping my brains off the ceiling.
but hey, that's just me.
her being fired makes no difference to my workload.
the miracle is that an older couple asked if there was any job for their seventeen year-old granddaughter at the salon. the manager lady and i both perked up our ears, and she couldn't stop gushing about how we need help while i couldn't jot down our website fast enough.
also, we've not only been severely shorthanded at the salon lately, but some of our most vital equipment died three weeks ago, and we haven't been getting in our new supply orders for the last month or so. we've been having to borrow from other stores, or take inventory off our own floor. it's been a nightmare. and i've been coming in a half-hour early (off the clock) to prep the back because of our broken machinery, which means having to mix every single soap we have by hand, and making sure there's a fresh bottle at each station, in addition to everything else i do to open the salon. frankly, i really have to wonder how we've been pulling off the work we have, since all of us have been running out of orifices from which to pull out miracles.
and yet we do, every single day.
so someone from the pet care dept. discovers, "hey, what are all those boxes up on the steel rafters?" turns out our orders had been coming in, it's just that no one in supply (night shift) actually did what they were supposed to. they're supposed to stack it all in our salon and let us unpack it, but nooooo. instead they just took the forklift and put it up in the rafters and didn't tell anyone, didn't label anything, and let it sit there while we worked our asses off, running around like decapitated poultry with no supplies and less-than-adequate staff.
so the other day, five weeks' worth of supplies were stacked up along the wall. it felt like freakin' yule in there. and somewhere in-between sepuku sunday and yesterday, our equipment was repaired. i can go back to taking my time opening up shop again.
and poor *v*. she had that tears-pressing-behind-the-eyes look she gets when she's stressed out. she's really emotional, and you barely have to scratch the surface to get tons of emotion out of her. but once i learned how she needs to be handled, she's great. but she was leaving for a break and turned back to me. "if i seem a little snappish today, i'm sorry," she said. "i really don't know what's wrong with me, but i think it's pms."
me: "eat chocolate!"
*v*: "i've been eating lots of chocolate, but i think it's just making it worse."
the manager lady: "what about a nap after you get home, or something?"
*v*: "no, i got my daughter. plus, i haven't been sleeping well."
me: "buy a vibrator!"
all of us: *falling in a heap of giggles*
the manager lady: "hey, yeah! y'know, you could get one of those wallet-sized ones. oh, dang, what are they called?"
me: "the bullet!"
the manager lady: "yeah, that's it! go buy a bullet. they're so awesome..."
*v*: *blushing and laughing* "oh, delena, that's the first time i've laughed all day."
hey, welcome to the wonderful world of vibratory magical remedies, baby, yeah! i know when i bought johnny west it was great. cheered me right up, even though at the time my (then) husband and i hadn't seen any action for two years. i suppose he just found his socks far more interesting. but i bought johnny, and WOW! it was great!
endless hours of harrassing the stupid-ass big *c* cheered me right the fuck up. i'd turn it on and stick it in his ear, or poke him in the ass and shriek with laughter as he freaked out, oh, all sorts of things. i'd stand it up right in front of the alarm clock so when it went off in the morning, johnny was the first thing big *c* grabbed.
oh, it was great.
and yeah, leave it to me to know exactly what the manager lady was talking about and call it by name. i've actually been thinking about buying a bullet for a while. it just seems too practical a "just in case" item to have stashed in the purse, y'know? except...i dunno. i never use them for their original intended purpose. i guess i'm just not really that much of a manage au moi kind of girl, and i've never had an... *ahem* ...open-minded playmate who didn't feel threatened by toys. i'd rather wait, and let the anticipation build until "business" has me knocking over my headboard to the Shrine of Sci-Fantasy Goodness and i'm scraping my brains off the ceiling.
but hey, that's just me.
6.18.2007
sepuku sunday
yes, i know it's monday and i'm posting 'sepuku sunday,' but as it stands, i'm a little behind in my blogging. i've spent the last few days working, and sleeping. literally. i've come home and slept ten, twelve, fourteen hours at a stretch and it's been the most beautiful experience of my life. i finally hit a point where i just couldn't handle trying to run normally (since i was far from normal, and shaddup with the jokes i *know* are coming...) and between messing up at work as badly as i have been lately, and *cc* blowing up at me, i know i've been running on Empty for far too long.
those of you out there who have experienced total physical exhaustion will understand. for those of you pampered individuals who only think you know what it's like, it's beyond your worst nightmares. of course, after my intensive training living in the House of Oppression, i have a great poker face and can appear pretty much unruffled no matter what's going on around me or being done to me. . . unless you know what signs you're looking for.
my bio-mother remains the only person who can take one look at me and Know.
luckily, if it wasn't for the fact the manager lady knows she's worked me to the bone and understands, i'd probably have lost my job over some of the mistakes i've made recently. i've just been so exhausted my mind was pretty much fried. and since *cc* has a very low tolerance for small shit, apparently forgetting i had my laundry basket in the laundry room for a couple days was enough to send her over the edge. oh, and i forgot she was making ghee and put all two pounds of butter in the freezer in a random act of consideration.
stress at home's one thing. stress at work is another. i can handle both. i canNOT handle both together. home is supposed to be haven, damn it all. of course that's when exhaustion, stress, and being emotionally raw hit me all at once at work on saturday, and for a minute i actually just shut down. i hadn't felt such bleak despair in a very long time, but then my pronoiac mind asked, "what is the universe trying to tell you, delena? you're being given exactly what you need exactly when you need it. so why do you need this?"
that's when i realized: i needed something to push me over the edge to finally say, "ya 'ueno. estoy lindo, chingaso!" in other words, I'M FUCKING DONE.
people around me usually get frustrated at my situations long before i begin to feel impatient. i suppose i just have a higher tolerance for shit. you'd have to, living twenty years in the House of Oppression and another three being married to big *c*. i'm sorry, but it's true. i learned a greater sense of inevitability, and vast patience. i also like to be absolutely certain there's shit in a situation to really get worked up over before i respond to it. i'd much rather test it out, and work through my own feelings and perceptions, before making a judgement call now.
however, *cc* plus what a wreck my body's in now? yeah, i suppose that can finally equal Shit. i drew the line and told off one of the floor managers later that saturday. you paged us on the intercom telling us there was a call for the grooming salon holding on line 21. you don't need to drag your fat ass into the back room just to tell me again. shut up, let me do my job, and have a little patience. i will get to the phone as soon as it's safe to do so. oh yeah, the manager lady heard about that one, but all i got was a great, big hug and, "poor delena, she needs a vacation."
i was like, "DUDE! gimme days. i'll take my happy ass to idaho."
i wrote *cc* an email basically telling her i didn't appreciate the egoism, and she needs to fucking talk to me before exploding on me. when she responded, i held my ground. she didn't respond.
and yesterday? HA! oh my fucking god. so i get slammed first thing in the morning with three heavy duty deshedding projects and haul ass getting the first two done in an hour. that's pretty sweet. i'm overbooked already, but i open up one more slot at 11:00 because i knew i could. we have certain money goals we need to hit every month, and last week we were only a hundred dollars shy. so why not?
the third dog of the early-morning trio decided to struggle when i was working with him. he bit one of the other groomers who was helping me try to calm him down. so i go for a muzzle and handle him while someone else tries to put it on. the dog twisted in my grip and clamped down on my finger. i had to pry his jaws open to get my digit back. well, of course i put on bite gloves and jump right back into it, because a biter has to be muzzled at this point. however, when we finish, the girl helping me saw my hand covered in blood and immediately ran for the manager lady.
well shit.
so i spend an hour on the phone with a workman's comp nurse filling out paperwork and being interviewed, and all i can think is, "dammit, i'm an hour behind now." she says i have to go to the hospital. my response?
shiiiiiiiiit.
with no guarantee i'd be back in time to finish my shift, let alone go to the parents' house for dinner (which is my priority, thanksverymuch), i said i'd go in the morning. i had 24 hour clearance anyway. so i'm typing this with my carpally gimpy finger, but apparently it's not too bad. swollen, like any injury would be, and oozing plasma because i accidentally broke the scab this morning washing my hands, but otherwise i'm great. my mom and idaho boy got all hen-peckish and fuss-budgety on me about it (and i found it quite cute *m* being all fussy and threatening to drag me to the dr's in handcuffs kicking and screaming if i try to pull that shit with him around. made me wonder what else i could do to get the handcuffs...), but oi vey! 'tis a flesh wound! i've gotten worse in the kitchen cooking! like when i sliced my knuckle off. yeah, that was fun. reattach the flap of skin, butterfly stitch the fuck out of it, and immoblize it with a tongue depressor and lots of gauze. after cleaning it with rubbing alcohol because that's all we had.
yeah, whoever said the phrase "blinding pain" is a metaphor was lying through their teeth.
but hey, i can barely see the scar now. no harm, no foul. it's JUST a bite! wash it with soap, keep it flushed. that's all they'll do at the medical center anyway, jeez.
so yeah, that was my sunday. dog bite, dog fight (another vicious sonofabitch went for my face half a dozen times), slammed up the ass, and i was behind on all my dogs. but i STILL got out of work on time.
goddamn, i rock...
those of you out there who have experienced total physical exhaustion will understand. for those of you pampered individuals who only think you know what it's like, it's beyond your worst nightmares. of course, after my intensive training living in the House of Oppression, i have a great poker face and can appear pretty much unruffled no matter what's going on around me or being done to me. . . unless you know what signs you're looking for.
my bio-mother remains the only person who can take one look at me and Know.
luckily, if it wasn't for the fact the manager lady knows she's worked me to the bone and understands, i'd probably have lost my job over some of the mistakes i've made recently. i've just been so exhausted my mind was pretty much fried. and since *cc* has a very low tolerance for small shit, apparently forgetting i had my laundry basket in the laundry room for a couple days was enough to send her over the edge. oh, and i forgot she was making ghee and put all two pounds of butter in the freezer in a random act of consideration.
stress at home's one thing. stress at work is another. i can handle both. i canNOT handle both together. home is supposed to be haven, damn it all. of course that's when exhaustion, stress, and being emotionally raw hit me all at once at work on saturday, and for a minute i actually just shut down. i hadn't felt such bleak despair in a very long time, but then my pronoiac mind asked, "what is the universe trying to tell you, delena? you're being given exactly what you need exactly when you need it. so why do you need this?"
that's when i realized: i needed something to push me over the edge to finally say, "ya 'ueno. estoy lindo, chingaso!" in other words, I'M FUCKING DONE.
people around me usually get frustrated at my situations long before i begin to feel impatient. i suppose i just have a higher tolerance for shit. you'd have to, living twenty years in the House of Oppression and another three being married to big *c*. i'm sorry, but it's true. i learned a greater sense of inevitability, and vast patience. i also like to be absolutely certain there's shit in a situation to really get worked up over before i respond to it. i'd much rather test it out, and work through my own feelings and perceptions, before making a judgement call now.
however, *cc* plus what a wreck my body's in now? yeah, i suppose that can finally equal Shit. i drew the line and told off one of the floor managers later that saturday. you paged us on the intercom telling us there was a call for the grooming salon holding on line 21. you don't need to drag your fat ass into the back room just to tell me again. shut up, let me do my job, and have a little patience. i will get to the phone as soon as it's safe to do so. oh yeah, the manager lady heard about that one, but all i got was a great, big hug and, "poor delena, she needs a vacation."
i was like, "DUDE! gimme days. i'll take my happy ass to idaho."
i wrote *cc* an email basically telling her i didn't appreciate the egoism, and she needs to fucking talk to me before exploding on me. when she responded, i held my ground. she didn't respond.
and yesterday? HA! oh my fucking god. so i get slammed first thing in the morning with three heavy duty deshedding projects and haul ass getting the first two done in an hour. that's pretty sweet. i'm overbooked already, but i open up one more slot at 11:00 because i knew i could. we have certain money goals we need to hit every month, and last week we were only a hundred dollars shy. so why not?
the third dog of the early-morning trio decided to struggle when i was working with him. he bit one of the other groomers who was helping me try to calm him down. so i go for a muzzle and handle him while someone else tries to put it on. the dog twisted in my grip and clamped down on my finger. i had to pry his jaws open to get my digit back. well, of course i put on bite gloves and jump right back into it, because a biter has to be muzzled at this point. however, when we finish, the girl helping me saw my hand covered in blood and immediately ran for the manager lady.
well shit.
so i spend an hour on the phone with a workman's comp nurse filling out paperwork and being interviewed, and all i can think is, "dammit, i'm an hour behind now." she says i have to go to the hospital. my response?
shiiiiiiiiit.
with no guarantee i'd be back in time to finish my shift, let alone go to the parents' house for dinner (which is my priority, thanksverymuch), i said i'd go in the morning. i had 24 hour clearance anyway. so i'm typing this with my carpally gimpy finger, but apparently it's not too bad. swollen, like any injury would be, and oozing plasma because i accidentally broke the scab this morning washing my hands, but otherwise i'm great. my mom and idaho boy got all hen-peckish and fuss-budgety on me about it (and i found it quite cute *m* being all fussy and threatening to drag me to the dr's in handcuffs kicking and screaming if i try to pull that shit with him around. made me wonder what else i could do to get the handcuffs...), but oi vey! 'tis a flesh wound! i've gotten worse in the kitchen cooking! like when i sliced my knuckle off. yeah, that was fun. reattach the flap of skin, butterfly stitch the fuck out of it, and immoblize it with a tongue depressor and lots of gauze. after cleaning it with rubbing alcohol because that's all we had.
yeah, whoever said the phrase "blinding pain" is a metaphor was lying through their teeth.
but hey, i can barely see the scar now. no harm, no foul. it's JUST a bite! wash it with soap, keep it flushed. that's all they'll do at the medical center anyway, jeez.
so yeah, that was my sunday. dog bite, dog fight (another vicious sonofabitch went for my face half a dozen times), slammed up the ass, and i was behind on all my dogs. but i STILL got out of work on time.
goddamn, i rock...
6.04.2007
what's that word again?
from the oxford-delena dictionaryamazing
adj.
1. surprising greatly
2. inspiring vast amounts of astonishment in a positive fashion
3. what trying on delena's life feels like
this afternoon i got off work exactly at 13:00, as scheduled. my 08:00 appointment stood me up, but it worked out because a walk-in low-shed came in an hour later. i received nothing but compliments and courtesy from customers today, face-to-face and over the phone. one particular trouble customer that everyone else said was a total heifer was beautifully pleasant to me. i clipped her yorkie and she left with a smile. customers requested appointments, but at my convenience, when the shop wouldn't be so busy. they asked my opinion on particular issues regarding their pets and made me feel i was the only one in the world qualified to answer their questions. all the other girls in the shop were stressed out and griping and trying really hard not to snip at each other...
...and i was the warm, juicy center everyone crowded around. well, not really. no one wanted to be around me because i was too happy to be brought down by their snipe and venom, drama and politics.
i'm finally back down to a five day work week, after an incident last week when i tried to get friday off and was called in anyway. after memorial day, when i lost all feeling in my legs with two hours of my shift yet to go, and then woke up and cried tuesday morning because the back pain was crippling, then wiped my tears and got ready for work anyway...yeah, i was ready for a break. i really don't cry much, and already i've been reduced to tears twice in the last few months. but i came in, and was thanked profusely. my effort has been noticed and much appreciated. i was given two days off back to back but i'm keeping my full-time rap. i'm finally being put into the system as qualifying for benefits (thank the Wild Divine). i made an extra thousand dollars for the shop last week, which is awesome.
i ask, and the universe answers. actually, i've been doing quite well with my homework from mr. brezsny last wednesday, aggressively searching for the information that will help change my mind about two of my most long-standing worldviews. my two new ideas are rapidly turning from head-thoughts into heart-beliefs, and it's a wonderful thing.
remember that idaho boy i mentioned earlier? well, quite unlike my past pattern of keeping it to myself and not caring about the opinions of the people around me, i've been keeping my family appraised of the situation down to the pleasant details. remember what i said about thinking i might be ready for some company? companionship, friendship, chemistry...remember all that?
so far, the family likes what they hear. a lot, actually. he's decided to make the nine-hour trip this weekend so he can meet my parents, actually. this sits very well with my father, who is more protective than my bio-father ever was, and yet i not only accept it, but i accept it joyfully. the difference? respect. much respect, and love. of course, if my father says 'no,' then that'll be the end of the idaho boy, but i don't think it'll come to that. he's got a lot of points in his favor, according to my dad.
i'm almost giddy with anticipation, but i'm making sure to keep myself in check. the last thing i need is to get my head lost in the clouds again. i want to do everything right this time. for once, sheesh... i want to keep my feet on the ground. if my heart goes floating up in the stratosphere, i want a string firmly attached so i can rein it back in at need. it's one thing to surrender joyfully to the bombastic and funky Wild Jive and get down with my funky self, but it's quite another to be stupid. i refuse to be stupid.
and yet, already i can't help but look around and i'm imagining what it might look like through his eyes. it's like introducing a totally new part of me: my city. my world. it's as much myself as, say, my family, or my sanchez nose. but...i'm actually, truly considering letting someone in.
for the first time, ever.
the difference? i know i'm totally fantastic and complete unto myself. someone as wonderful as him could only enhance the living experience, but life is just as bombastic and Funky whether he's in my life or not, and my feet are sure beneath me. i don't need anyone to be my foundation. and that is the lesson.
he's coming on saturday. there's a spark inside me that could grow into something...well...something big. work is fantastic. the Funk continues to be its funkalicious self, and we groove to the rhythm together. i am secure within myself. my homework is coming along great, mr. brezsny. and do you know how it feels?
abso-fucking-lutely amazing.
5.28.2007
what's that word again?
from the oxford-delena dictionary
tension
n.
1. intense, suppressed suspense, anxiety, or excitement
2. a strained relationship between individuals
3. a force tending to stretch or elongate something
4. a measure of such a force
5. something delena experiences on a daily basis nowadays...
there are all sorts of things going on in my head, many of which actually render me quite absent-minded. i've done everything from run the swinging door into someone's face at work, to forget portions of a "top dog" package at work (which is too much for what we do, i think, but what do i know?), to simply wander back to the same place a dozen times knowing i went there to get something but not knowing what on earth it was supposed to be.
but that's the result of a good kind of tension.
there's also the not-so-good tension that revolves around wanting to call in sick to work because, oh, i dunno...my back was so jacked up after sepuku sunday that i actually lost sensation in my legs for a few hours and only sheer will kept me somewhat mobile. that, and a lot of stoicism. some days i'd wonder how come i'm not a whimpering little sobbing ball on the floor, except i know it's simply because i've grown accustomed to what used to be crippling amounts of pain.
the situation at work has gotten to the point of blatant disregard for what i'm doing there, and how much i'm doing to make up for the slacker, the lack of manpower, and the sheer volume of customer demands. yet again today i open the shop only to find someone has erased my blocked-out time slots and written in yet another dog, thus overbooking me to a heretofore untold ricockulous degree. i was already overbooked, but that dog sent me into such stress levels i'm still dealing with stomach cramps four and a half hours after clocking out. the disrespect is outrageous.
i love what i do. i love what i do. i don't love the self-absorption, lack of intelligent thought, and disregard going on. especially not when it means that every single day i work, i'm overbooked and end up staying late, thereby being present for walk-ins and it's mandatory we take them. i get stuck, and my body does not have enough time to recover before i have to do it all again. one day off (especially when 95% of the time i'm called in anyway) is not enough.
and then there's the tension of...well, the tension of wondering, of hoping and laughing and anticipating and wondering. the tension of six hours on the phone, or four, each night and every night all week. the tension of knowing there's a line somewhere, but not knowing where it is or what will actually be considered crossing it. the tension of envisioning things to come and just...
it's like the movie crank. you ever seen that? it's like that. like a slamming shot of adrenaline that just won't quit.
5.25.2007
tidbits
readers of iGoddess know that, while not entirely cynical, delena isn't exactly the product of a happily ever after. there's a difference between cynicism and skepticism. one is healthy, the other is a fashionable illness built into a monolith of the modern culture.
i won't exactly look a gift horse in the mouth, but i will concern myself with where the gift came from.
after falling far too many times for all the wrong loves, perhaps i've gotten a bit too wary in admitting affection at all. oh, if you're my family, or a friend, be prepared for heaps and gobs of affection to be poured over you like rain on a portland day. there is no limit to my love, no ends to my devotion, and my affection is boundless.
however, i'm discovering that --in a completely different capacity of affection-- i'm a little reluctant to admit much of anything. and while, yes, pronoia is about joyful surrender to the uniquely bombastic, phenominal and funkalicious Supreme Jive within your own buddhalicious self, it's not about blindly jumping off a cliff with the rest of the blithe lemmings, either.
and lemmings don't really do that, so where on earth did that saying come from, anyway???
however, i suppose it's a testament to my own growth that i don't simply throw myself into the sacrificial bonfires of modern myth and propaganda as i was wont to do once upon a time. and yet i don't scoff at the possibility of holding the seeds of truly wonderous things, either.
i'm wiser.
-=[~]=-
have i mentioned my eyeball husky yet? no, seriously, i have an eyeball husky. it's a husky that lives behind my eyeballs and is constantly shedding.
most people's morning ablutions include brushing of the teeth, washing of the face. perhaps some people take showers before heading off to work. mine include peeling back my eyelids and fishing for stray dog hairs that have worked themselves behind my eyeballs to irritate the absolute fuck out of my eyes. i live with the now-constant and ever-present sensation of hair in, on, and poking out my eyes.
not to mention after brushing, washing, rinsing, and brushing my hair again, i still find fur floating off me in tufts...to include colors of dogs i hadn't touched in days!
franklin p. jones once said, "anyone who doesn't know what soap tastes like never washed a dog." not only do i know what soap tastes like, but i could identify at least a dozen bouquets in a blind taste test.
raspberry oatmeal: piquant, with a bittersweet aftertaste that lingers long after the shop has closed
medicated: sharp and acrid, but with an underlying verdant quality, as if real herbs might actually have considered being included in the recipe, then settled instead for the dirt the herbs grew in
almond: tasting of nothing so much as the bar of soap in the ceramic dish by your sink, let alone real almonds
aromatic: subtle at first, but with a full and underlying body not to be ignored. don't let the scent of windex when you first open the bottle fool you.
there are more, of course, but those stand out in my mind the most. whoever said grooming isn't a contact sport can kiss my well worked-out ass. i'd like to see them try to wrestle with one hundred and eighty pounds of solid and determined dogflesh...and win.
so ha.
-=[~]=-
if someone says they were strong enough to face their own fears, and someone else says that they didn't face their fear so much as fed and fed and fed their own monsters until they ate themselves to death is not entirely the same thing. one is a test of strength and will, while the other is a headlong rush into the destructive capacity of a black hole.
the end result, however, is the same. new and transformative life growing out of the death of the former, as new mosses and flowers will sprout upon a fallen trunk of a mighty tree in the rainforest.
however, i believe that in facing one's fears, the fears are slain, but live on in memory. in some fashion, they aren't killed at all. in the other, the monsters are well and truly dead. in the former, the fears are faced, acknowledged, even embraced and incorporated into the whole self.
in the latter, the dead falls away, like the shed skin of a molting snake. like a deer's dropped antlers and a cat's shed claws. greed and gluttony win to the point of utter destruction. such cataclysmic events catapult a soul into the sa of satori, upheavals in the soul's geology of death and rebirth, a massive volcano destroying in order to create a new tropical paradise.
volcanic soil is among the richest and most fertile on the planet. geological upheavals of the soul. death and life. fear, courage, and enlightenment.
i won't exactly look a gift horse in the mouth, but i will concern myself with where the gift came from.
after falling far too many times for all the wrong loves, perhaps i've gotten a bit too wary in admitting affection at all. oh, if you're my family, or a friend, be prepared for heaps and gobs of affection to be poured over you like rain on a portland day. there is no limit to my love, no ends to my devotion, and my affection is boundless.
however, i'm discovering that --in a completely different capacity of affection-- i'm a little reluctant to admit much of anything. and while, yes, pronoia is about joyful surrender to the uniquely bombastic, phenominal and funkalicious Supreme Jive within your own buddhalicious self, it's not about blindly jumping off a cliff with the rest of the blithe lemmings, either.
and lemmings don't really do that, so where on earth did that saying come from, anyway???
however, i suppose it's a testament to my own growth that i don't simply throw myself into the sacrificial bonfires of modern myth and propaganda as i was wont to do once upon a time. and yet i don't scoff at the possibility of holding the seeds of truly wonderous things, either.
i'm wiser.
-=[~]=-
have i mentioned my eyeball husky yet? no, seriously, i have an eyeball husky. it's a husky that lives behind my eyeballs and is constantly shedding.
most people's morning ablutions include brushing of the teeth, washing of the face. perhaps some people take showers before heading off to work. mine include peeling back my eyelids and fishing for stray dog hairs that have worked themselves behind my eyeballs to irritate the absolute fuck out of my eyes. i live with the now-constant and ever-present sensation of hair in, on, and poking out my eyes.
not to mention after brushing, washing, rinsing, and brushing my hair again, i still find fur floating off me in tufts...to include colors of dogs i hadn't touched in days!
franklin p. jones once said, "anyone who doesn't know what soap tastes like never washed a dog." not only do i know what soap tastes like, but i could identify at least a dozen bouquets in a blind taste test.
raspberry oatmeal: piquant, with a bittersweet aftertaste that lingers long after the shop has closed
medicated: sharp and acrid, but with an underlying verdant quality, as if real herbs might actually have considered being included in the recipe, then settled instead for the dirt the herbs grew in
almond: tasting of nothing so much as the bar of soap in the ceramic dish by your sink, let alone real almonds
aromatic: subtle at first, but with a full and underlying body not to be ignored. don't let the scent of windex when you first open the bottle fool you.
there are more, of course, but those stand out in my mind the most. whoever said grooming isn't a contact sport can kiss my well worked-out ass. i'd like to see them try to wrestle with one hundred and eighty pounds of solid and determined dogflesh...and win.
so ha.
-=[~]=-
if someone says they were strong enough to face their own fears, and someone else says that they didn't face their fear so much as fed and fed and fed their own monsters until they ate themselves to death is not entirely the same thing. one is a test of strength and will, while the other is a headlong rush into the destructive capacity of a black hole.
the end result, however, is the same. new and transformative life growing out of the death of the former, as new mosses and flowers will sprout upon a fallen trunk of a mighty tree in the rainforest.
however, i believe that in facing one's fears, the fears are slain, but live on in memory. in some fashion, they aren't killed at all. in the other, the monsters are well and truly dead. in the former, the fears are faced, acknowledged, even embraced and incorporated into the whole self.
in the latter, the dead falls away, like the shed skin of a molting snake. like a deer's dropped antlers and a cat's shed claws. greed and gluttony win to the point of utter destruction. such cataclysmic events catapult a soul into the sa of satori, upheavals in the soul's geology of death and rebirth, a massive volcano destroying in order to create a new tropical paradise.
volcanic soil is among the richest and most fertile on the planet. geological upheavals of the soul. death and life. fear, courage, and enlightenment.
5.21.2007
what's that word again?
from the oxford-delena dictionary
amalgam
n.
1. a combination of diverse elements
2. a mixture
3. the most accurate word for all of delena's feelings right now
i actually sat here for about ten minutes trying to figure out what's that word again. tired? yes, but... accomplished? well, yeah, but... ah, satisfied! definitely, however...
*sigh*
it's just so many things. then it hit me: amalgam! yeah, that's it! it's that variety of tired that comes from completing very satisfying work. y'know, when your bones are water and your muscles quiver at their limit, your smile is a quiet effort and your head is hollow...yet it's not the kind of tired that leaves you wasted and empty, only filled larger than you were when you began?
yes, that's it. that's it completely.
i found out today that i pulled in twice as much money as projected, twice as much as the girls in my position. and i did more dogs. like, double-digits more. i had more add-ons (extras to include in the basic grooming package), more premiums (top-dollar grooms), everything.
i so rock!
of course, in order to rock as hard as me, you gotta work almost two weeks straight, have one day off, work another nine...close the salon back to back with opening it the next day...work overtime...come in on your days off...take the brunt when someone doesn't feel like coming in to work and she's booked solid (or overbooked). y'know, the usual.
we're down less than a skeleton crew over there, and everyone's feeling the hurt. it feels like i'm the only one working as much as i am over there, busting my back to the point of burning (my tailbone's on fire constantly now, and The Spot is in perma-spasm). i'm taking anti-inflammatories and painkillers when i abhore pharmaceuticals. it's a measure of the pain that i take them at all, and i know that. carpal tunnel syndrome has reared its ugly head this past week or so, and it got so bad i couldn't flow any energy at all out of my hands.
at all. that's never happened before.
but it's been good. i'm tired. by the Funky Ya-Ya, i'm so dang tired...but it's a good tired.
amalgam
n.
1. a combination of diverse elements
2. a mixture
3. the most accurate word for all of delena's feelings right now
i actually sat here for about ten minutes trying to figure out what's that word again. tired? yes, but... accomplished? well, yeah, but... ah, satisfied! definitely, however...
*sigh*
it's just so many things. then it hit me: amalgam! yeah, that's it! it's that variety of tired that comes from completing very satisfying work. y'know, when your bones are water and your muscles quiver at their limit, your smile is a quiet effort and your head is hollow...yet it's not the kind of tired that leaves you wasted and empty, only filled larger than you were when you began?
yes, that's it. that's it completely.
i found out today that i pulled in twice as much money as projected, twice as much as the girls in my position. and i did more dogs. like, double-digits more. i had more add-ons (extras to include in the basic grooming package), more premiums (top-dollar grooms), everything.
i so rock!
of course, in order to rock as hard as me, you gotta work almost two weeks straight, have one day off, work another nine...close the salon back to back with opening it the next day...work overtime...come in on your days off...take the brunt when someone doesn't feel like coming in to work and she's booked solid (or overbooked). y'know, the usual.
we're down less than a skeleton crew over there, and everyone's feeling the hurt. it feels like i'm the only one working as much as i am over there, busting my back to the point of burning (my tailbone's on fire constantly now, and The Spot is in perma-spasm). i'm taking anti-inflammatories and painkillers when i abhore pharmaceuticals. it's a measure of the pain that i take them at all, and i know that. carpal tunnel syndrome has reared its ugly head this past week or so, and it got so bad i couldn't flow any energy at all out of my hands.
at all. that's never happened before.
but it's been good. i'm tired. by the Funky Ya-Ya, i'm so dang tired...but it's a good tired.
5.13.2007
sepuku sunday
there's junkmail tuesday, fucktard friday, grocery run monday, and now sepuku sunday.
after two sundays of utter suckage at work, i was braced for what i'd tentatively called "sepuku sunday," because the suckage is so hard that honorable suicide actually starts to look good. *nod*
but of course, being me, i gave it the benefit of the doubt. i walked into work with a smile on my face like i always do. i'd even been able to sleep in today until 07:30 because i didn't have to be in until 10:00. on my way to the bathroom i ran into the manager lady.
me: "guten morgen!"
her: "good morning. oh hey! you're gonna love this, delena. *sL* called in today."
me: "oh joy of joys. huzzah for sepuku sunday!"
she laughed. when i got to the parlor, another of the groomers said, "oh, you're gonna love this!" (yeah, almost the same words as the manager lady." "*sL* called in sick today."
yup! i'd already heard, i said. "gotta love sepuku sunday." nobody got it this time, however.
it actually wasn't that bad of a day. i had an hour and a half of down time because i was smart and didn't allow any time slots to be available. i did my dogs, plus two of the sick girl's dogs, plus five extras (and one last minute walk-in) for a whopping total of fifteen, ALL of which went out at least ninety minutes early.
oh yeah, i rock.
HOWEVER, and this is a big, fat, fucking HOWEVER--
one of the gods-be-damned dogs gave me poison oak!!!!!
poison oak!!
it started out as a small little ring of raised, red, burning bumps. one of the floor managers asked me if i was okay, and i pointed to it and asked, "does this look like ringworm to you?" she shrugged. one of the groomers overheard and said, "did you say 'ringworm'?" so i showed her, too. she shrugged. i showed the manager, and by then it had spread four inches up and two inches across and was burning constantly. she also shrugged.
i thought i was just chafing, because sometimes it burned and pulled like that. so i rubbed lotion on it. *rolls eyes*
by the time i got home, it had completely embraced my right forearm and was working its way up and around my left forearm. i went home and showed *cc*, asked her if it was just chafing, or a rash. when in doubt, ask the military medic.
her: "looks like an allergic reaction to something, dear."
me: "shit. i knew it."
her: "did you use any new soaps or anything?"
me: "well, i had to flea shampoo two dogs, which can do this to my skin, but it was already pretty bad by then. it started after i bathed this one dog. this one obnoxious, filthy, filthy dog."
her: *nodding* "it was prolly running around in the foliage and you got the oils on you."
me: "shit."
so i got to pour bleach all over my arms --which burned like a brisket in the seven hells-- and then rinse well with cold water, popped a couple antihistimenes, and slathered my now scald-red, swollen forearms with cortisone cream.
then i took my ass to red robin and had a boca mushroom burger, fries, and a roy rogers because i deserved comfort food, dammit.
oh yeah, gotta love sepuku sundays.
after two sundays of utter suckage at work, i was braced for what i'd tentatively called "sepuku sunday," because the suckage is so hard that honorable suicide actually starts to look good. *nod*
but of course, being me, i gave it the benefit of the doubt. i walked into work with a smile on my face like i always do. i'd even been able to sleep in today until 07:30 because i didn't have to be in until 10:00. on my way to the bathroom i ran into the manager lady.
me: "guten morgen!"
her: "good morning. oh hey! you're gonna love this, delena. *sL* called in today."
me: "oh joy of joys. huzzah for sepuku sunday!"
she laughed. when i got to the parlor, another of the groomers said, "oh, you're gonna love this!" (yeah, almost the same words as the manager lady." "*sL* called in sick today."
yup! i'd already heard, i said. "gotta love sepuku sunday." nobody got it this time, however.
it actually wasn't that bad of a day. i had an hour and a half of down time because i was smart and didn't allow any time slots to be available. i did my dogs, plus two of the sick girl's dogs, plus five extras (and one last minute walk-in) for a whopping total of fifteen, ALL of which went out at least ninety minutes early.
oh yeah, i rock.
HOWEVER, and this is a big, fat, fucking HOWEVER--
one of the gods-be-damned dogs gave me poison oak!!!!!
poison oak!!
it started out as a small little ring of raised, red, burning bumps. one of the floor managers asked me if i was okay, and i pointed to it and asked, "does this look like ringworm to you?" she shrugged. one of the groomers overheard and said, "did you say 'ringworm'?" so i showed her, too. she shrugged. i showed the manager, and by then it had spread four inches up and two inches across and was burning constantly. she also shrugged.
i thought i was just chafing, because sometimes it burned and pulled like that. so i rubbed lotion on it. *rolls eyes*
by the time i got home, it had completely embraced my right forearm and was working its way up and around my left forearm. i went home and showed *cc*, asked her if it was just chafing, or a rash. when in doubt, ask the military medic.
her: "looks like an allergic reaction to something, dear."
me: "shit. i knew it."
her: "did you use any new soaps or anything?"
me: "well, i had to flea shampoo two dogs, which can do this to my skin, but it was already pretty bad by then. it started after i bathed this one dog. this one obnoxious, filthy, filthy dog."
her: *nodding* "it was prolly running around in the foliage and you got the oils on you."
me: "shit."
so i got to pour bleach all over my arms --which burned like a brisket in the seven hells-- and then rinse well with cold water, popped a couple antihistimenes, and slathered my now scald-red, swollen forearms with cortisone cream.
then i took my ass to red robin and had a boca mushroom burger, fries, and a roy rogers because i deserved comfort food, dammit.
oh yeah, gotta love sepuku sundays.
5.10.2007
brezsny-on-the-blog
CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): "Most painting in the European tradition involved painting the person's mask," wrote abstract expressionist painter Robert Motherwell. "Modern art rejected all that. Our subject matter has been the person behind the mask." Your next assignment is similar to that of modern art's, Capricorn: to recognize everyone's persona, but delve deeper to explore the maddeningly complex, crazily inscrutable, gorgeously wounded soul that's hidden beneath everyone's persona. Strip away the surface, in other words, and investigate the essence lurking below.
if i felt like a smartass, mr. brezsny, i'd go on about how yes, modern art sees the hidden, illuminates the unseen beneath the murky depths, but post-modernism...now there's something interesting! why waste my time focusing on the maddeningly complex, crazily inscrutable, gorgeously wounded soul hidden beneath the persona, when i could just reject both the high and low forms of art, upend the art tables of sincerity and stability, and declare that only irony, spoof, and sarcasm are the last bastions of true art?
...but that would be very un-pronoiac of me, wouldn't it? cynicism is an illness, calloused and jaded apathy a boil that needs to be lanced. post-modernism is the skeleton dressed in finery and pretending not to notice it has no meat to it.
i used to adore post-modernism... i used to celebrate it. key phrase here being "used to."
it's funny. remember how i came home from work a couple sundays ago and actually cried because my back hurt so badly? well, late that day, one of the groomers had cornered me for something just one too many times. i put my hand out and asked her, "please, not right now?" and when she continued to speak, i just kept repeating, "just, please, not right now, 'kay?" until she finally backed off.
first off, i was very proud of myself for holding to my boundary. the old me would have let go the first time she ignored my request to delay the conversation and just swallowed the emotions. but i didn't. and i didn't break down and cry, or lose my temper, like i would have once upon a time. bully for me.
however, she thought i was upset with her. it's funny, because i thought she was then upset with me, so it was a huge mixup. i just wanted to avoid drama in the workplace. it got back to the manager lady, who asked why i was upset with the groomer. so i explained what it really was, and lucky for me, she's really observant. that groomer's a sensitive girl, and yes, i'm sensitive, but i hold myself in check a lot, and i also just come out and say what i want and need to say. it rubs a lot of people the wrong way, but the manager lady's like that too, so she understood.
last night, i finally had an opportunity to clear things up with the groomer, and i gave her a hug. we laughed. earlier, i told her i was making dhaal tonight and i'd save her some and bring it for her on saturday. oh joy of joys, another vegitarian at work!
so once again, mr. brezsny, you're on to something here. i've said it here before: i usually try to understand people as well as i possibly can. i give them the benefit of the doubt, second chances, and try to make my judgement calls based more on their motivation --the spirit behind their actions-- rather than their naked actions. it's gotten me skull-fucked repeatedly, but i'd rather that than have a jaded, realistic eye that borders on cynical. y'know?
i like my view of the world. it's a gorgeous place, y'know, where people are basically good people who try to do the right thing but sometimes don't have enough of the facts to be wise. we all need a little help, and you never know when a little kindness you give might be just the thing someone needs to completely change their life.
i would only add one word to my horoscope this week: "lovingly strip away the surface, in other words, and investigate the essence lurking below."
had other people i'd known been truly loving, investigating my essence lurking below, my crazily inscrutable and gorgeously wounded soul and not attaching their own expectations and imperatives upon what they thought they saw, i might've gotten better a little bit sooner instead of seeing pieces of the bio-dad in all of them and running the other way.
lovingly search for the essence in other people, with no expectations, always giving the benefit of the doubt. i think if people did that for others more, we'd find a lot more pain lurking in the darkness. a lot more scared little children, and a lot more inadvertent hostility than what we think we see. y'know? what we want to find. "you see what you wanna see, and you hear what you wanna hear. dig?" said the rock man.
and, i think, if we had no expectations, no cynicism, and a willingness to give second chances, we'd find ourselves capable of a lot more real compassion. a lot more radical intimacy.
may the Funk be with you.
if i felt like a smartass, mr. brezsny, i'd go on about how yes, modern art sees the hidden, illuminates the unseen beneath the murky depths, but post-modernism...now there's something interesting! why waste my time focusing on the maddeningly complex, crazily inscrutable, gorgeously wounded soul hidden beneath the persona, when i could just reject both the high and low forms of art, upend the art tables of sincerity and stability, and declare that only irony, spoof, and sarcasm are the last bastions of true art?
...but that would be very un-pronoiac of me, wouldn't it? cynicism is an illness, calloused and jaded apathy a boil that needs to be lanced. post-modernism is the skeleton dressed in finery and pretending not to notice it has no meat to it.
i used to adore post-modernism... i used to celebrate it. key phrase here being "used to."
it's funny. remember how i came home from work a couple sundays ago and actually cried because my back hurt so badly? well, late that day, one of the groomers had cornered me for something just one too many times. i put my hand out and asked her, "please, not right now?" and when she continued to speak, i just kept repeating, "just, please, not right now, 'kay?" until she finally backed off.
first off, i was very proud of myself for holding to my boundary. the old me would have let go the first time she ignored my request to delay the conversation and just swallowed the emotions. but i didn't. and i didn't break down and cry, or lose my temper, like i would have once upon a time. bully for me.
however, she thought i was upset with her. it's funny, because i thought she was then upset with me, so it was a huge mixup. i just wanted to avoid drama in the workplace. it got back to the manager lady, who asked why i was upset with the groomer. so i explained what it really was, and lucky for me, she's really observant. that groomer's a sensitive girl, and yes, i'm sensitive, but i hold myself in check a lot, and i also just come out and say what i want and need to say. it rubs a lot of people the wrong way, but the manager lady's like that too, so she understood.
last night, i finally had an opportunity to clear things up with the groomer, and i gave her a hug. we laughed. earlier, i told her i was making dhaal tonight and i'd save her some and bring it for her on saturday. oh joy of joys, another vegitarian at work!
so once again, mr. brezsny, you're on to something here. i've said it here before: i usually try to understand people as well as i possibly can. i give them the benefit of the doubt, second chances, and try to make my judgement calls based more on their motivation --the spirit behind their actions-- rather than their naked actions. it's gotten me skull-fucked repeatedly, but i'd rather that than have a jaded, realistic eye that borders on cynical. y'know?
i like my view of the world. it's a gorgeous place, y'know, where people are basically good people who try to do the right thing but sometimes don't have enough of the facts to be wise. we all need a little help, and you never know when a little kindness you give might be just the thing someone needs to completely change their life.
i would only add one word to my horoscope this week: "lovingly strip away the surface, in other words, and investigate the essence lurking below."
had other people i'd known been truly loving, investigating my essence lurking below, my crazily inscrutable and gorgeously wounded soul and not attaching their own expectations and imperatives upon what they thought they saw, i might've gotten better a little bit sooner instead of seeing pieces of the bio-dad in all of them and running the other way.
lovingly search for the essence in other people, with no expectations, always giving the benefit of the doubt. i think if people did that for others more, we'd find a lot more pain lurking in the darkness. a lot more scared little children, and a lot more inadvertent hostility than what we think we see. y'know? what we want to find. "you see what you wanna see, and you hear what you wanna hear. dig?" said the rock man.
and, i think, if we had no expectations, no cynicism, and a willingness to give second chances, we'd find ourselves capable of a lot more real compassion. a lot more radical intimacy.
may the Funk be with you.
4.24.2007
grooming: not for the vain of heart
until this past week, i never knew that socks could generate the overworked-foot-and-wet-dog combo smell. it's a new experience...
and for the love of dog, HOW THE HELL do i get dog fur wrapped around piercings that never see the light of day?!!?!
no, seriously. the other day, i had dog fur of five different hues clinging desperately to the belly-button ring. wtf?
and for the love of dog, HOW THE HELL do i get dog fur wrapped around piercings that never see the light of day?!!?!
no, seriously. the other day, i had dog fur of five different hues clinging desperately to the belly-button ring. wtf?
4.23.2007
what's that word again?
from the oxford-delena dictionary
dog tired
adj.
1. utterly exhausted
2. worn out
3. that feeling delena gets coming home after an unexpected day at work
i got called in to work today, from 3pm until closing. i worked really hard today, actually, and i loved every minute of it. the pointer finger on my left hand is throbbing like hell because i gashed it deeply right at the second knuckle, my lower back is screaming, and my arms from my hands up to my elbows are agonizingly dry. you know that sting, when it feels like a thousand little paper cuts with lemon juice rubbed in?
yeah, they feel like that. after constantly being soaked and scrubbing with soaps --from oatmeal to almond to medicated to flea-treated-- they're drier than the sahara in summer. already they look like laundress' hands, red at the knuckles, swollen, wrinkled, and dry.
i love my job!!!!
no, seriously, that wasn't sarcasm. i really do. for every single pitfall in the grooming world, i have a remedy that fixes it right up. like, after friday when my entire body was screaming with a thousand varieties of pain, all i had to take were a few anti-inflammatories, some ibuprofen, melatonin to get me to sleep, and a shot of jeagermeister. that was the treatment all weekend, and it worked like a charm. i'll prolly do something similar tonight (she says as she nurses a hard cider while blogging...).
of course, i get to open up shop tomorrow, after closing the night before. yayfunjoy!
another good thing, though. as i was passing the office and waved good-night to the general manager, he called out, "i've been hearing you're doing a really good job!"
me: (stunned) "really? you hear about me?"
GM: "yup. i think the Union's gonna be calling us about you, saying that you need to slow down. making everyone else here look bad."
one of the closing groomers: "oh, she's terrible. just terrible." deadpan expression. "she had the entire shop cleaned up and was finished before we were done with our last dogs."
me: *devilish grin*
GM: "oh yes, been hearing many wonderful things about you."
i. LOVE. my. job!
gotta love the dog days of grooming.
dog tired
adj.
1. utterly exhausted
2. worn out
3. that feeling delena gets coming home after an unexpected day at work
i got called in to work today, from 3pm until closing. i worked really hard today, actually, and i loved every minute of it. the pointer finger on my left hand is throbbing like hell because i gashed it deeply right at the second knuckle, my lower back is screaming, and my arms from my hands up to my elbows are agonizingly dry. you know that sting, when it feels like a thousand little paper cuts with lemon juice rubbed in?
yeah, they feel like that. after constantly being soaked and scrubbing with soaps --from oatmeal to almond to medicated to flea-treated-- they're drier than the sahara in summer. already they look like laundress' hands, red at the knuckles, swollen, wrinkled, and dry.
i love my job!!!!
no, seriously, that wasn't sarcasm. i really do. for every single pitfall in the grooming world, i have a remedy that fixes it right up. like, after friday when my entire body was screaming with a thousand varieties of pain, all i had to take were a few anti-inflammatories, some ibuprofen, melatonin to get me to sleep, and a shot of jeagermeister. that was the treatment all weekend, and it worked like a charm. i'll prolly do something similar tonight (she says as she nurses a hard cider while blogging...).
of course, i get to open up shop tomorrow, after closing the night before. yayfunjoy!
another good thing, though. as i was passing the office and waved good-night to the general manager, he called out, "i've been hearing you're doing a really good job!"
me: (stunned) "really? you hear about me?"
GM: "yup. i think the Union's gonna be calling us about you, saying that you need to slow down. making everyone else here look bad."
one of the closing groomers: "oh, she's terrible. just terrible." deadpan expression. "she had the entire shop cleaned up and was finished before we were done with our last dogs."
me: *devilish grin*
GM: "oh yes, been hearing many wonderful things about you."
i. LOVE. my. job!
gotta love the dog days of grooming.
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