miscellaneous – Page 5

October 7, 2016October 7, 2016

Gobsmacked

That’s how one co-worker described her feeling upon hearing the news, a week ago today, that I’d been laid off.

She’s a Brit, and they have some fun words, don’t they? Well, it would be more fun if it weren’t being used to describe last Friday’s announcement that my employment had suddenly been terminated.

I was told it wasn’t performance-related. It was because our sales team hadn’t met their goals. So the CEO decided to completely eliminate about half of the proposals staff (me) and 17 other people across the firm.

Yep, I am currently unemployed. I am not bitter; it’s business. Was I shocked? Absolutely. Am I worried? Yes and no. I have lots of good prospects, a strong track record, and great references, but the search process takes time. I have been putting in lots of hours networking frantically all week. I’ve even had a couple of good phone interviews already.

Having a good, responsive recruiter on my side would help though. So, if you know of anyone who works as a life sciences recruiter, let me know. Please.

Now I need to get back to “work” finding a new job! I’ll get back to vacation re-caps once I make some more progress.

September 2, 2016August 28, 2016

Most-Unusual Wear Pattern

I found a very interesting seashell at Virginia Beach last week. It was actually just a piece of a shell. Most of the shells I was seeing were completely pulverized.

I’ve been told shells get pulverized like that when there’s a dredging/beach replenishment effort in an area. I can’t say whether that’s the case in Virginia Beach or not, but I do know there were lots of rocks/stones and pulverized shells along the beach.

That’s okay, because even small things can be interesting, whether they are whole or not.

I though the wear pattern on this piece of shell was really cool. You’re looking at the inside of what was once a much-thicker shell. The other side just looks like the outside of any other unremarkable shell.

The pic is grainy because it’s an extreme close-up, taken with my phone while I was sitting on the beach. That piece is actually pretty little. I’d guesstimate bigger than a dime, but smaller than a nickel.

Let’s see…

I did find one shell that looked to be pretty perfect.

But it was hard to tell without my close-up-vision glasses.

Looks Deceiving — Looks Can Be Deceiving

Did you think that perfect shell would be so small? 🙂

July 4, 2016

I May Need a 12-Step Program

Hi, my name is Kathy, and I am a photoholic. I take pictures. Lots and lots of pictures. But, even worse, I am a photo hoarder.

That flower image is one of hundreds of gigabytes of images that I don’t need to keep. I mean, it’s pretty, but why do I need to keep it? Like, for years? I don’t. I really need to concentrate on keeping only those images that mean something to me.

Unlike many people, I don’t store the images on my camera and/or phone forever, I actually upload them to my hard drive in a pretty timely fashion. That’s where they tend to sit. For like a year or more.

Recently, over the past six months or so, I have noticed my computer getting slower and slower. I’m not really inclined to buy a new one at the moment, so I just grit my teeth, do what I have to do on the pokey-ass thing, and then get off of it.

That slowness is probably one of the reasons you haven’t seen much of me lately.

The weather this holiday weekend has been rather wet. So I spent the day on Sunday deleting and moving image files. I think it has helped. Yay!

All is well here. I haven’t been riding as much as I’d like, but other stuff — good stuff — has been keeping me busy.

Remember my quest for LOVE? I haven’t given up. Even though I am chasing a moving target — more LOVEworks keep getting added — I really enjoy getting out and see the sculptures.

Guess how many I have captured so far? Forty-six! That’s a lot, right? This is a big state!

Unfortunately, the Virginia tourism folks don’t keep the master list up-to-date, so I don’t know how many there currently are. Whatever… who really cares about statistics? I like looking for LOVE. LOL.

Here are my latest captures…

Early Mountain UNK — LOVEwork in Madison, Virginia

I’m not sure if the Madison LOVE is official or not. It’s not listed on the web site, so I have no idea who it belongs to. I suspect, however, that it might be on the Early Mountain Vineyard property. I captured that image from Wolftown-Hood Road (VA-230).

The last image is just a few minutes from my house. I guess Airlie is technically in Warrenton, but it’s not in the downtown area where I live. It’s less than four miles away, though, which is cool.

And it’s actually a pretty place. I should go there more often.

I’ll try to catch y’all up on what’s been happening ’round here. The exciting stuff, anyway. Like visits with grand kids, a trip to my friend’s rose showcase, a few rides we’ve done, etc. Oh, and a few craft projects. Another reason I’ve been away from the pokey computer.

Yes, that stuff is exciting to me. I’m getting old.

TTFN, peeps!

April 13, 2016April 13, 2016

Sprucing Things Up

I have a love/hate thing going on with Spring. I love that all of the trees and flowers are blooming, and that the grass seems to be waking from hibernation, but I hate that the weeds are growing, too. (Many weeds have been growing since Fall!)

The older and more out-of-shape I get, the less I enjoy gardening. It takes a toll on this aging body. Hubby feels the same way. He’s older than me, remember. Or, as he likes to say, I am younger than him, by slightly more than a decade.

Our yard is small, but it is full of flower beds. In 2013, after he and I spent an entire weekend weeding, schlepping around and applying 65 two-cubic-foot bags of mulch, and a whole week recovering from the resultant aches and pains, we told each other, “Never again.”

So, in Spring of 2014, it became my task to hire a landscaper. Long-story-short, they were terribly expensive, asking for much more than we were willing to spend. I decided it would be much more cost-effective if we, really I, bought mulch and found a local kid or two to come spread it around for us.

As I was leaving the garden center, having just paid for a mulch delivery, our favorite waiter was walking into the garden center, wearing that establishment’s uniform. He’s a very nice young man in his late 20s who I know has a couple of children and routinely works three to four jobs at a time.

I asked if he’d like to help with our yard. He agreed. He did such a fabulous job, he’s been doing it every year since.

That first year, I didn’t have high expectations. I just wanted him to spread the mulch. He did that, of course, but first he weeded and cleaned out all the old leaves and such. He filled about 15 large trash bags with debris! Then he spread the mulch.

He worked around his own schedule, doing it in a few shorter blocks of time. Between every shift, he cleaned, so the yard was spotless when he left. Of course, he cleaned when he had finished the job, too. The yard was spotless. He really does an amazing job.

"Muy bien, Mama!" (They say he passed inspection.) — “Muy bien, Mama!” (They say he passed inspection.)

I do not know this young man very well personally, but he always provides top-notch services. He’s a good guy, a very hard worker, and is also very conscientious and takes pride in his work. Plus, he loves doing this type of thing. To quote him, mulch smells “like freedom” to him (meaning he’s outdoors working rather than indoors).

If you live in or around the Warrenton area and have a project for which you could use some assistance, let me know and I’ll put you in touch. It will be up to you to meet and negotiate an agreement with this young man for whatever project you have in mind. He’s very good AND very reasonable.

April 10, 2016

The Jam

I’m in a rut. I know it. The trick is figuring how to pull myself OUT of said rut.

I’ve been living life day to day. Not really planning ahead, not really looking behind. Just taking each day as it comes. Not in a carpe diem kind of way either. It’s been more like plodding along in a very long, slow-moving traffic jam on a highway with no exits for many miles. Surrounded by hundreds, thousands, maybe even millions of people just like me.

Daydreaming about possibilities, all kinds of possibilities, yet still inching along. Moving forward, but not really going anywhere. Content in my comfortable, climate-controlled vehicle. Shaking my head sadly as other cars break down, inch their way to the shoulder, wondering, but not really caring, whether each car and its occupants will languish or find some other way to get where they are going.

I’ve got my phone along. I can stay in touch with folks. Or not.

I eat what I want, when I want. Not really caring about nutritional values. Not nourishing my body, just fueling my hunger. Satisfying an immediate need. Or is it just a want?

I check the map every now and then, looking for exits, planning my escape. Excitement builds as I near a potential egress, blossoming as I consider the myriad possibilities. Who knows where that route could take me? The things I will see. Oh, the things I will do!

Then I look around. I’m surrounded by other vehicles, many different makes and models. Some are shiny and new, others are old. A few are really damn decrepit, and will likely be struggling to the shoulder soon. Many vehicles are just like mine. Not new and not old. Able to move forward. Invisible in their normalcy. The only thing that makes each of those cars stand out is their driver.

My gaze shifts from the rear-view mirror to the side view. I plot my escape. Consider the different methods I can employ to squeeze through the traffic. Surely I could do it if I tried. It may not be easy, but it would certainly be possible.

I start to inch to the right as I continue to creep forward. Forward, over, forward, over.

I catch a glimpse of the driver of the car squeezing past on my right. “Stay where you are. This is my fucking lane. Move along,” is what that look says.

Maybe I’ll see that person again, maybe not. Compatriots on the highway quickly become strangers once one changes their path.

I ease back to the left, look ahead once again. Settle back into my comfortable forward trajectory. I steal peeks at the side view mirror every now and then, watching with ambivalence as that once-hopeful exit slowly recedes into my past.

I see a “No U-turn” sign. Reconsider for the briefest-of-brief moment.

“Eh, probably nothing exciting back there anyway,” I say aloud to myself, trying to sound convincing.

My gaze drifts to the the rear-view mirror once again. I shift in my seat, leaning to the right for a better angle. There’s a middle-aged stranger staring back at me. One perched on the brink of AARP eligibility.

I quickly avert my eyes, pretend not to have seen. Re-position myself in my seat, settling back into that comfortable position that’ll allow me to keep plodding right along. Daydreaming always. Thinking about the next exit. THAT is where I’ll make my escape. That is where I’ll make my change. Unless the car breaks down, runs out of gas, or, worse yet, fails completely. Unlikely given its age and sorta regular maintenance.

An irregular, soft rumble to my left followed by a loud snort draws my attention. My passenger, asleep beside me, almost woke himself again. I could poke him, shake him, maybe just cough. Somehow wake him up and say, “Where do you want to go?” Demand that he give me an answer. An idea. Even a hint of a suggestion.

I let him sleep. I know what his answer will be.

“I want to go wherever you are going,” he’d say. Or something to that effect. And that’s not a bad thing.