Candy is candy for a reason

I've been spending my afternoon trying to tally up, mentally, all the Halloween candy I've eaten for this season. I did really well for myself by not buying the candy until several days into October. And then, I was able to avoid the Halloween candy by eating a whole bunch of See's candy. But a few days ago, all the "other" candy in the house mysteriously was gone, so I had to dig into the holiday stuff.
My go-to snack is Twix. I can tell you that I'm proud of myself for not having finished the bag yet. (This is the part where I am at once sad and happy that the bags of fun-size candy have shrunk over the years.) And unfortunately for me, the bag of candy I bought for the trick-or-treaters had some Reese's peanut butter cups in it. My self control around candy that I don't love is pretty rock solid. I can walk by most anything.
Having said that, the candy that I do love doesn't have a bright future when I'm around. Here's what I've eaten so far:
Twix: 14.
Reese's peanut butter cups: 6.
I'll add one 3 Musketeers to that tally, as well. Only one because I didn't buy any, but Sydney brought home several from her outing tonight, and I've already pillaged some of her spoils.
Candy is delicious, and I enjoy it, but whatever is left by the middle of October (if any) will get tossed out. I have to do that to keep my sanity, and some semblance of a waistline.

I don't like to be startled

I don't do haunted houses. I don't like things that jump out at me to scare me. I don't enjoy that slam and trip of the heart when something startles me. I never have. I haven't been in a haunted house since high school, when Lisa and I went to Factory of Terror, and some creepy person chased us with a running chainsaw with no blades in it. That scared the hell out of me, and I've avoided haunted houses since then.
So, someone tell me why, at 41 years old, I decided to get peer pressured into going through a haunted "cave" last weekend? The wildlife park we visited had a man-made cave along one of the enclosures made up into a PG-13 haunted house. There was a group of younger kids hovering around the entrance, bothered because their mom wouldn't go in with them. I didn't think it would be too bad, so I agreed to go through with Brian.
In fact, I stayed behind him the whole time, prepared for the things that go bump in the night to jump in front of him. Inside the first room, there was a morgue set up with a "corpse" moving on a gurney. I acknowledged that, and checked out the room from the doorway. It seemed the "corpse" was the only bad thing. We entered, and shortly thereafter, a person in a black cloak and a scary mask jumped out from behind the doorway and screamed in my ear. I was not at all prepared, and shrieked loudly. After that, I was done.
I don't even remember what was in room two or three, because I was doing my best to keep my eyes on Brian's back and skedaddle through the place quickly. Unfortunately for my nerves, there were people in black cloaks and masks who screamed behind me in every single room we entered. I was a mess when we finally exited the cave. I had shrieked and freaked out three times in three rooms, within probably less than three minutes, and I wasn't at all impressed.
It's nice to know that my fear of haunted houses is still omnipresent in my psyche. I would say that I can wait another 24 years before going through another haunted house, but the last thing I'll need at 65 is a heart attack dressed up in a cloak and mask.

Fewer movies, more likely to be watched?

Netflix has been disappointing me lately. Not because of anything the service has done itself, but because it's not carrying out its purpose. These movies show up, and sure, they seem to be interesting, but then, they just sit there. They just sit there, all suddenly boring, and guilt me. I'm guilted because they spend days and days being not watched. They collect more dust than anything. And then I send them back to Netflix unwatched. And then, more guilt.
I decided to punish Netflix for sending me movies that I don't watch by downgrading my membership. As of early November, my Netflix queue is a one-movie-at-a-time gig. I sent back all three of my current movies, hoping to get only one in return, but according to the e-mails sent to me this morning, I'm about to get a trifecta of new movies that we won't watch.
You're worried about how Brian and I will continue to mainline our movies, aren't you? We've discovered that iTunes is our movie dealer of choice, and that Apple TV is as effective a middle man as any, giving us unfettered access to Netflix's Watch Instantly selection. (Regarding that online aspect of Netflix, we are still all in. We're addicted.)
At this point, I'm really okay with downgrading the Netflix. I don't think I'll miss the three movies at a time. In fact, I'm fairly certain that just the one movie will still collect dust, and be sent back unwatched.

It's beautiful, but, too soon

Every year, it's a treat to find out from when and where my first dose of Christmas will find me. Weirdly, the first dose came from Brian, who has, inexplicably, started to listen to Christmas carols while he's in the shower over the last couple weeks. I contend that his new choice in music doesn't count, because I'm pretty sure he's doing it to drive me crazy.
But I did have a double dose that I will count today: the first being a Christmas catalog from Pottery Barn, and secondly, a Christmas commercial from, if you can believe it, Petco. The Pottery Barn catalog was welcome, actually, since I'm always looking for cool stuff for the holidays. And because I could pick it up, accept it for what it is, and then set it down until I was ready for it. The television commercial ... not so much. It offended me a little. I will grant that at least it didn't have any carols playing through it. But really. It's still October before Halloween. It's still 90 degrees in the afternoon. I still had to change my clothes twice because of summer sweat. This is not the time to feature snow swirls and flakes hither and yon on my television set.
I've accepted a lot over the last few years in regards to Christmas encroaching on the other holidays. But snowy imagery in October bugs me. Honestly, is it so difficult to wait until November?

Dragons are awesome

We plopped ourselves and our kid in front of Pete's Dragon the other night. I think the last time I saw that movie in its entirety was when I was 12 or 13 years old. There's a certain weirdness to watching a movie that you loved as a kid, as a grown-up parent. That weirdness can only be explained by a dawning horrified understanding of what characters say and do with an adult perspective.
As an example: The Gogans. These horrible people have adopted Pete, and he's escaped their home. The beginning of the movie shows Pete hiding from them, and the family singing a song about all the abuses they are eager to inflict on Pete. They want to beat him, starve him, chain him, and drown him, among other things. These people are horrifying. As an adult, hearing about these plans, and how they are sung, in a Disney movie was ... disconcerting. Add to that the uncomfortableness of having your own child sitting next to you listening to the same thing, though without the grown-up understanding of it.
What horrible aspect of the movie did Sydney ask me about later? Physical punishment in school. "So, when the teacher told him to hold his hands out for the ruler, did she hit him with it?" In the movie, yes. In fact, back then, teachers did have the authority to punish children physically if they believed it was warranted. She was blown away. "What kinds of things?" Oh, anything, really. Speaking out in class, hitting or hurting other students, acting inappropriately. "Would I ever get spanked in school?" Um, no. Mom won't let anyone put hands on you.
On the positive side, I did find Doc Terminus funnier than I ever have before, and I was charmed by Mickey Rooney as Lampie.

Eight years ago, baby's a comin'

I've been going through my day reminiscing about the moments before and during Sydney's birth. She'll be eight years old tomorrow, and it's amazing to me how quickly the time has passed. She's finally old enough that I can tell her stories about those days. And she appreciates bits of trivia, like that Brian and I ate pizza at Oregano's for lunch the day before I went into labor with her. She thought that was great. Or that she was born at 5:11 a.m., and weighed 7 lbs., 11 oz. Of course, the big take away that she went to sleep with tonight was that now she has permission to wake me up with her cries at 5:11 tomorrow morning. I disagreed, and I really hope she sleeps through it.
The kiddo's birthday festivities preparations took up most of my day, but I think she'll be happy with all the goodies and treats I have ready for her tomorrow. It'll be her day, and I hope she enjoys it.
But just so you know I haven't given up my sanity entirely, I did veto her suggestion to have dinner at Peter Piper Pizza tomorrow night.

My goodness, just print my stuff

I bought new ink cartridges for the printer yesterday. The helpful indicators said that my cyan, yellow and magenta were low. This should not be a big deal, I thought, because I only had to print something in black. But actually, no. My fancy, awesome printer won't print in any color if any other color is deemed too low. So, off to Target I went to pick up my colored cartridges.
The three colors were there, but of course, the black was missing. I figured that, as a smart person, I should pick up a black cartridge too, because that would definitely probably go out before I finished printing what I had to print. This is where it gets tricky, though. There was no 932 cartridge, but there was a 932 XL cartridge. I had no idea what to do with that, so I asked the friendly and "helpful" Target electronics-section employee. The guy was afraid to leave his counter area, so I had to ask his opinion over it, and he did his best to pantomime what he thought was a proper answer. His professional opinion was that, if I didn't already know what the XL meant, I should not buy it. And maybe try Staples.
Staples was infinitely more helpful. That store also only had the XL cartridges, but there I also got a decent explanation. If my printer accepted the 932 cartridge, it would take the 932 XL cartridge. It was double the size, but there was a dedicated spot for it in the printer. The XL has more ink than the regular ones, and costs more, of course. My question: Why would they have an "XL" cartridge, rather than just have the regular cartridge bigger? Why make the differentiation? Also, why not educate the dorks in all the printer areas so they know this, too? It would have been awesome to not have had to drive to Staples, where the cartridge cost $3 more, as well.

"Take this job and shove it"

Well, that was interesting.
I went to my "interview" this morning. I had a horrible feeling about it, and considered it on par with the math-test editorial interview I went to in Houston. (Remember that stinker?) I knew I wouldn't get anything out of it, as I mentioned in last night's post, and I'm happy to say that my instincts on this were spot on.
The interview was at an insurance company. They provide insurance for union workers. (This is where my optimism would say that maybe they wanted me for public relations or corporate communications.) The building is in downtown Phoenix, so I had a bit of a drive ahead of me, but thankfully no traffic at that time of morning. I arrived right on time, at 10:30 a.m.
The office lobby was packed full of applicants filling out information. The receptionist gave me my paper to fill out, and I did. The form was then set to the side, on the pile, and divvied out to the "interviewers." My particular interviewer, Ramon, called Ruby, who sat next to me, and myself into an office.
Ramon: "What about this company made you want to come here?"
Me: "Actually, Patricia called me. I don't know anything about you. I'm a magazine editor by trade, so I'm just curious about what you think I can do here."
Whether he expected that or not is anyone's guess, since he quickly moved on to Ruby. After hearing a little bit about her, Ramon escorted us into the conference room.
In the conference room, we were handed a questionnaire, and offered coffee or water. I sat down, knowing full-well that I should just be leaving. Was it the curiosity or the manners that insisted I stay? The questionnaire was more like a personality test, asking about my motivations, wants, needs, weaknesses, and traits. I answered the questions, then sat back in hesitant anti-anticipation.
Did you all see The Wolf of Wall Street? Because I swear that Jordan Belfort walked into that room and started his push. These jobs? These positions? They're little more than insurance sales positions thinly veiling a pyramid scheme of sorts. ... Get the people to sign their name and write a check; get them to refer more people; get them to call those people and tell them that you're heading their way; get paid for this for the rest of your life.
"Belfort" carried on for about 45 minutes. He pushed the sales. He told us how easy it would be. He told us how much money we would make. He told us about his 2014 Lamborghini and his Dodge Viper because he makes so much money now. He swore that this was going to be the job that would turn our lives around, if we let it. He dared us to be the best people we could be, by selling the best insurance, and by making the numbers.
Honestly, I was super done before this joker walked into the room, so the Herculean effort I put forth to not roll my eyes, or make snarky comments, or leave, or break out my phone and live tweet the shit was A.MA.ZING.
Once Belfort was done, he basically dropped the mic and left the room. His lackey who looked like a greasy John C. Reilly then wanted us to each stand up, and sell ourselves to him for about 15 seconds. I was not at all interested in saying anything that would make them want to hire me, so I quickly slunk down in my seat and plotted my polite refusal. Luckily, my strategy was undermined by the first candidate who was called, Robert.
Robert said, in all awesomeness, "You know, I don't think this is for me, so I'm going to go."
Greasy John C. Reilly was a bit taken aback, and said, "Okay. That's fine. If any of the rest of you feel the same, and don't think we should continue with you, you are certainly free to go, and have a great day."
The mass exodus out of that room was fantastic. I was among the first to stand and beat a hasty retreat. Ruby was right behind me. I think, of the 20 people in the room, that maybe five or six of them stayed? I'm not sure. I didn't even look back.
The elevator car was packed full of people who had been in the room with me. We were appalled that we had just wasted an entire morning on this. We were disgusted by the way they tried to recruit us. And we were disillusioned by the hope and potential dressed up pretty, and then basically shown as a dust bunny.
Ugh. At least it's a good blog post, and my instincts are still on point.

I actually am laughing at the end of this

In the continuing saga of the job hunt, I share this. I spoke with Patricia this morning, and it was ... underwhelming. The company she works for is on a huge hiring push, so they're basically turning their hiring process into a cattle call. I have an interview scheduled for tomorrow morning, where I'll meet with a guy to discuss my resume and qualifications, and see where I may fit best within the company. ...
Okay. So, wait. You mean to tell me that you don't have an actual job position for me, and that I'm coming in for a meet-and-greet? My resume didn't catch anyone's specific attention, but instead just tripped a couple keywords on your hiring computer algorithm? ... Well, that's super deflating. I'm unimpressed already.
Sure, it could actually turn into something, but the odds of that, in my head right now, are super low. I hope they surprise me tomorrow. I guess everyone needs a social media presence, or even corporate communications. I'm up for the adventure, but my hopes certainly aren't.
THIS IS DEPRESSING!!! HAHAHAHA!!

UPDATE: My printer isn't printing my resume, which is the only thing I need to bring with me tomorrow. Looks like I'm making an early-morning stop at Target.

Groot tells me when I have a text

In an interesting turn of events, "Patricia" called me to schedule an interview. What's interesting is that Patricia works for a company that I would not have thought would have a place for me. She left me a message today, saying that she saw my resume on Monster, and wanted to schedule an interview. I'm beyond confused, and intrigued, but also nervous. Obviously, she saw my resume, so knows what my skills and qualifications are. I can't imagine she would call me for any position that I wasn't qualified to perform. What a puzzle.
Guess how long it takes to create an "I am Groot" text tone. Well, when said tone creator is a bit crazy, and is super particular about the inflection of the statement as well as the background noise, then it takes about an hour. I spent an entire hour working on a one-second text alert. And honestly, as upset as I am about losing "Inconceivable," I am tickled with "I am Groot." In fact, Mom just texted me, and the sound of it made me giddy.
I can't explain to myself why I was able to scan a document to my computer this afternoon very easily, when months ago, after first installing the printer software, I was unable to scan to such an extent that I gave up on it in a fuming rage. Blaming the printer/scanner is silly, but that really must be the problem, and it seems to have self-corrected, as electronics do. I must have done the same things last time I tried to scan as I did today. It doesn't make sense to think that I would have done it differently. But now that I've got it figured out, assuming it doesn't self-uncorrect, I've got work to do later this week. I need to scan my writing clips so I've got them in digital format. People just don't fax things anymore.

I've already turned off a lot of "options"

ITEM!: Here's your Apple mind-melting issue for the day: I decided to update my iOS this morning, and in so doing, ended up having the phone crash, having to restore it to factory, having to put all the music back on it, and finally, having to get over the disappointment of losing "Inconceivable!" as my text alert. But more surprisingly, the phone also woke up from its forced slumber and reboot with the new iOS. How does a phone crash installing the damn thing, and then wake up with it on board? Random Apple-ness, we will call it.
ITEM!: I've decided though, in my investigation of my iOS 8, that the new Health app will be my new best healthy friend. I need to spend some time inputting my own information into the app tomorrow, so it can start helping me and kicking my ass for not being healthy enough. I fear telling anything, even my most trusted iPhone, what my weight and body mass index is.
ITEM!: While in California last week, Mom and I finally picked up all the accessories for my powder room downstairs. Rather than the Zen theme I was wanting weeks ago, I decided to roll Hawaiian. I've liberated a Hawaiian picture and a glass sea turtle from Mom's house to add awesomeness to the bathroom, as well. I will need to motivate my creativity for the turtle though, since the original idea I had for it won't work well. I had thought to hang the turtle over the window, but with the hook placements, it needs a different hanging situation.
ITEM!: Brian's pizza rolls for lunch were delicious. I suspect he's finishing them now though, so I'll have to come up with something as awesome for tomorrow.

Pizza rolls = freezer ambrosia

So, it's been a few days.
I had a weekend in Michigan. I had a few days in California. I had a weekend in Arizona.
And now, I'm back into the swing of things, and looking forward to a Monday of normalcy. I have super piles of random stuff throughout my home that demand my attention, so I'll be plenty busy over the next several days. I have laundry to do; dishes to wash; decorations to put up; spaces to clean; and bathroom accessories to accessorize the bathroom.
But what am I looking forward to most? Brian bought pizza rolls while I was gone last week, and there is still half a bag in the freezer. They will be my lunch tomorrow, and that is an awesome thing, indeed.

A gentle nudge to f*ckin' call me

I just sent an e-mail follow up to the pre-interview phone interview I had last week. She said that I would probably get a call early this week, and I was really hoping for my phone to ring on Monday or Tuesday. But here it is, Wednesday night, and I'm still without a message or scheduled interview. And now I'm all out of time for a while, too, since I've got some traveling ahead of me for a couple weeks. I am, to say the least, disappointed in this development.
Question: How the frickety frick am I ever going to get a job when the jobs I'm qualified for won't hire me because I haven't worked in so long, and the jobs that I'm over-qualified for won't hire me because I'm too experienced? Honestly. What the fuck is up with that?
Maybe the e-mail I just sent will net some positive results, like that they had to put interviews on hold until a couple weeks from now; or that they are still going over their resume pile but I'm still atop it; or that they were just drawing up an offer for me because they know they would be stupid to not hire me. I guess I'll find out tomorrow or Friday, I hope. I hate being on pins and needles in regards to a phone call, but there it is.
I could really use some good news, you know?

Paper stacks and bookmarks = culinary dreams

Explain to me why, exactly, I seem to be collecting recipes that I find online, and saving them to a bookmarks folder. I appreciate the implication here. It says that one day I will start baking and/or cooking; i.e., using the recipes for their intended purpose.
What awesome recipes have I already collected, you might ask? Chocolate souffle, apple butter, tie dye cake, and an apple crumb dump cake, which sounded totally delicious. All of them, of course, claim to be easy recipes, which is a hook for me in any cuisine.
In addition to this fabulous online bookmark folder, I also have a growing pile of random recipes downstairs on my dusty cookbooks. This pile grows every month, as I tend to rip them out of my InStyle and Real Simple. I flirt with the idea of subscribing to Martha Stewart Living, too, so I could mine those pages for yummy things.
I enjoy so much that I have the ambition to do this, but never seem to actually get it done. What with our financial situation lately, I will contend that I can't really afford all the randoms that I'll need for the experimenting. I guess, for the time being, I should just be happy with myself for figuring out the proper way to hardboil eggs. I'll keep collecting those recipes though, because I never know when I might actually use them.

Ugly words don't need to be

You never realize what an ugly word "wart" is until a heartbeat you love is growing them all over.
Oliver is, as you know, an elderly little dude at this point. At 14 years old, he's been growing these little skin bumps for the last couple years or so. The vet referred to them as warts a visit ago, and while I accepted that, I was grossed out a little tiny bit. I've been keeping an eye on them, but when his hair is longer, it's hard to see everything everywhere.
Ollie got a haircut a couple days ago, and because of the warts, the groomer requested more time with him so he could be careful around them. And because of the short hair, I was able to do a full-body inventory on them. And my goodness, I found the biggest one on his knee ... on his knee. How random is that? But because of that extra large wart, Brian and I ended up having an extended conversation about the warts; beyond our usual, "hey look, he's got another one."
In particular, we discussed the ickiness of the word "wart." Brian was the motivator in this one, with his comment that he just doesn't like the word, and we should call them something else. So what does a mom of the Internet age do when faced with a word problem? Well, go to thesaurus.com, of course. There is a surprising list of synonyms for "wart," and through the exercise of following one down the thesaurus rabbit hole, and then another, and spending too much time on it, we round-abouted to Beauty Mark.
So, in the same spirit in which we renamed Sydney's pacifier "Ted," we have dubbed Oliver's warts "Beauty Marks." So that's what they are now. And we like it much better.
Our literal and correct daughter doesn't care though, and will call them warts anyway, because she's decided Brian and I are wrong, and because she's a punk.

An early-October ITEM! list

ITEM!: My ankle is still swollen from rolling it on the trail a couple weeks ago. I feel like I must be doing something wrong with it, which is why it continues to plague me. Even if I didn't keep it elevated directly after the incident, it should be in better shape today. Instead, the ankle feels as bad, if not stiffer, than the day it was injured. Going up and down the stairs in the house can't be helping, but how do I not do that. Still, it should feel better. It's been two weeks. Am I suddenly too old to heal?
ITEM!: I've been taking my time about getting the new powder room accessories and towels, but it really needs to be remedied. I refuse to have the family seeing the bathroom in this state, so it must be corrected before all my company comes and goes over the next few months. Mom and I decided to roll with the navy blue and light blue for the rugs and towels. And the bamboo for the trash, tissues and trays. It just needs to be purchased. Also, some kind of window covering, because Brian's paranoia about the neighbors being able to see into the bathroom has affected me, and now I leave the lights off when I pee in there at night.
ITEM!: Today marks the first Fat Tire Festival I've been to in four years in which I haven't had a single bit of Fat Tire beer. My priorities were elsewhere, as I had to drive the kiddo to a birthday party, and back again, and be the good mom. So, for that, no beer. Also, no concerts. No shows. No socializing. No sunburn. (That last one is kind of okay that I missed.) Next year, I intend to enjoy the Tour de Fat, and ride in the bike parade properly ... which is to say, with beer.
ITEM!: I am thoroughly enjoying opening my windows at night, and having cool air filter through them while the house sleeps. It's still cool in the mornings, and lately, the air conditioner hasn't been flipping on until noon or so. This is good news for my psyche, but also incredibly good news for my power bill. I love fresh air in my house.
ITEM!: I've figured out Sydney's birthday festivities for the end of the month. A small family excursion, a treat for school, a larger family celebration, and in the midst of that, Halloween and the candy, of course. It's just a matter of scheduling it and inviting all the right people.

Really. She could have been better

Here's my problem with Transformers: Age of Extinction. There was only one major (if you can say that) female character throughout the movie. She was Mark Wahlberg's character's daughter, Tessa, and she was one of the humans who was helping the Autobots. And throughout the film, it seemed as if her character's only purpose was to be the damsel in distress, to look dewy and big lipped, and to wear ankle cowboy boots with big heels and short shorts. She did an excellent job of screaming a lot, being scared in every conceivable situation, pouting about her dad's rules, and staring adoringly at her boyfriend.
Is this the part where you ask me where my indignation was over Megan Fox in the first two Transformers movies? I would say to that, Megan Fox was the car person in those films. She was an auto mechanic, knew how to steal cars, and was a kick-ass driver. A character like that has purpose in a car movie.
Why couldn't the movie people have come up with some real purpose for this girl? Would it have been so difficult for her to be the awesome driver instead of the boyfriend? Or could she have had some mechanical abilities to be helpful in repairing the Autobots? Or could she have been able to do some shooting of the bad guys? My god, stupid movie people, could she have just been braver?
What they managed to perpetuate in this movie is the stereotype of the blond, thin, screaming, sexy girl who needs the strong men to save her, yell at her to do things, and solve all the problems around her. Like it would have killed their movie to create a stronger, more bad-ass (even minimally) girl? Or it would have made the Transformers movie less manly to have a better representative of women?
I call "bullshit" on the movie makers for this one. It should have been done better.

Putting my cart before their horse

I had a pre-interview phone interview this afternoon for a lower-rank editor position today. Refreshingly, the interviewer started the conversation by asking me why, exactly, a person with as much professional experience as I have, would be interested in a lower-rank editor spot. I was able to tell her that yes, I've got a lot of experience, but I have been out of the game for a long time, and I really just love putting together magazines, and that I want to have a job again, and am fine with a lower position. All these things are absolutely true.
As to the magazine's topic, it should be as fun to tell people as when I tell them about my other jobs. I enjoy very much that my career has rolled along the lines it has, and this newer position would click with the randomness of my resume perfectly.
Anyway, I think it went well, and she said she would call me early next week after she talks with the other editor. Here's hoping there's an interview on Tuesday or Wednesday, and an offer sometime thereafter. That would work best for my schedule, you know. And that's what is most important when looking for a job; right? Of course, it is. Also, I'm already spending my paycheck: maids for my house; double payments to American Express; groceries; Old Navy; Disneyland; and Ikea. All good things, for certain. But maybe I'm getting ahead of myself.

Faster than a speeding Jetta

It seems as though on the first of every month I post the new monthly avatar, and tell you all how busy my month is. September was fun because I didn't go anywhere. October does not afford me that luxury. I'm all over the place this month, from here to Michigan and then to California, and then elsewhere around Arizona as well. Add to that the kiddo's birthday and all the shenanigans involved with that. Plus, Halloween and the good stuff there. We've got fun activities planned for every weekend this month, hence the Super Kimmie outfit going on over there. I'll need all the super-human strength I can get.
Also, Halloween. She's super cute for Halloween.