tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86736688360038467202024-02-19T10:34:29.254-05:00Melly's SpotA place where Melly shares all. Or whines. I'm a writer without a clue. Oh and I'm blond. Yeah, that's a bad combination.Melanie Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04552401861776930787noreply@blogger.comBlogger428125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8673668836003846720.post-87025661996989499512018-10-06T12:46:00.003-04:002018-10-06T12:46:52.513-04:00New AddressHi all!<br />
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I have a new address now! I know what you're thinking. "Melly, you've said this before."<br />
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But this time is true! I bought the URL and I'm paying for the website. I decided it was time to up my blog game a little.<br />
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The new website is easy... It's <a href="http://www.melly48.com/">www.melly48.com</a>.<br />
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Please come visit me! Subscribe! I don't think you'll regret it!<br />
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If you don't, Scooter will give you the stink eye!<br />
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<br />Melanie Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04552401861776930787noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8673668836003846720.post-59523316129577038812016-09-01T20:20:00.003-04:002016-09-01T20:28:18.024-04:00Without a Parachute<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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People Anxiety... The beginning.<br />
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As kids, introverts are labeled as shy. They need to speak up more in class (how much did I hate hearing that?) And I always had a little anxiety mixed in with the introversion, which did not help my social standing in schools.<br />
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The first incident I remember came from either kindergarten or first grade. My mom had given me a envelope of money to turn into the teacher. I'm not sure what it was for, but I remember it consisted of a lot of change. Possibly a fee of some sort.<br />
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I waited for the teacher to ask us to turn in the money, but she never did. Just like that, my window of opportunity slammed shut. There was no way I was voluntarily asking the teacher where to put the money so I kept the money to myself. This probably would've been fine if it wasn't parachute day in gym. Does anyone remember parachute day??? It was the best. I'm not even sure why. I just know it was magic when that parachute would fly above our our heads and we would duck under. Like a giant kid filled apple turnover.<br />
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I can no longer remember how it happened, but it was during the time where we all were holding the parachute. The envelope just burst open and change flew from my pocket and landed on the parachute. Silver and copper coins jumped and bounced on the parachute as we flapped it up and down.<br />
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The teacher was flabbergasted. Where did the money come from? But I wouldn't...couldn't...say. I kept my mouth shut. I'm sure the rest of the my classmates were confused too. Maybe they still remember the day the parachute started crapping out money!<br />
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After that, it's a blur. I'm pretty sure I eventually got in trouble because the teacher told my mom I didn't turn in my money and my mom swore she gave it to me. But that part was less important and less embarrassing. The memory that sticks out is the anxiety I felt knowing I needed to turn that money in. Then realizing I was the one that made money fly on that parachute. Knowing I would never say a word.<br />
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At least it didn't ruin my love of the parachute. But it was just the beginning of a long line of stupid decisions ruled by anxiety that followed me throughout my life and all my jobs.<br />
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There are more incidents. There always are... Stay tuned.<br />
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<br />Melanie Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04552401861776930787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8673668836003846720.post-75881035854712456332016-08-31T10:54:00.000-04:002016-08-31T11:00:01.690-04:00Full ServiceAnother day in a life of an introvert...<br />
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This morning I was driving to work when I realized there was a big smear mark in my windshield. Like some crazy blonde tried wiping the window off with her hand.<br />
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The sun is usually rising when I leave the house so it's impossible for me to see through this smudge. It looks like I'll have to stop at the gas station to clean the inside of my window.<br />
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Pulling into Wawa, the only pump available is the one that has both diesel and unleaded fuel. I don't like this one because I know it's the only one that diesel drivers can use. But I'm only planning on topping off my tank since I hate using the window cleaner without getting gas and I still have a half a tank.<br />
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I pull up thinking I will get this done quickly and as soon as I get out of my car, a big diesel pickup pulls up behind, waiting for the pump.<br />
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Suddenly it's like I'm on some gas pumping stage where everyone is watching me. I'm also pissed because there is an empty diesel pump on the other side that he is too cool to use. I guess he had to be on the outside pump! More room to thrust his manly muscles around.<br />
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(I'm also assuming he's a man since I never really looked directly at the driver. I apologize for the stereotype. But in my town, mostly men drive the big honking diesel trucks).<br />
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So there I am suddenly harassed while the truck sits there, its engine chugging away. When I go to put gas in my car, I realize I'm way too close to the pump. That means I'm forced to sidle to and from the pump to my gas tank. Also, the window wiper fluid/trash can thingie the gas station provides is too far away. Almost at the truck, which is still waiting. At this point, I'm so flustered I don't want them to see me clean my car windshield, lest they think I'm taking my time while they wait. So I sidle back to my car and into the driver's seat, pouting the whole way. Like all of this pressure isn't ALL IN MY HEAD.<br />
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I end up pulling away without cleaning my windshield. I even forget to tell the pump whether I want a receipt or not! A voice inside of me--I'm pretty sure it was coming from the smear mark--is like, "What is wrong with you? Don't be such a wuss. You NEED to clean your windshield." <br />
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I end up pulling into the last pump on the other side of the gas station. (Do you think I'm crazy yet?) But the squeegee is not in the fluid. It's been taken by the lady on the other side, who is apparently detailing her car at the gas pump. She even has her windshield wipers up while she meticulously wipes every mark off. Annoyed, I pull out a paper towel from the dispenser and dip it into the fluid. It will have to do!<br />
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Of course the whole time I'm paranoid someone will come out and be like, "You didn't buy gas here! Give back that teaspoon of window cleaner!"<br />
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And I will be like, "I did buy gas! I have a receipt--oh...wait...yeah... Those guys might have my receipt!"<br />
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All of this probably happened within a space of 10 minutes, but it was very stressful. What is it about me that makes me so freaking anxious to do the simple things? Why couldn't I be like, "I was here first and I have a right to use this pump AND clean my windows. Maybe even meticulously like the woman way over there."<br />
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But no, I'm scurrying around like some mouse scared they were going to be like, "HEY LADY! We have get on the job some time today! You are too much of a wimp to handle the diesel pump!"<br />
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The wet paper towel does work and I get work smudge free. But sometimes I wonder how I've managed to make it these 42 years with this kind of crazy inside me. It really is a miracle.<br />
<br />Melanie Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04552401861776930787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8673668836003846720.post-32576674889786242152016-08-11T14:17:00.001-04:002016-08-11T14:17:47.037-04:00FootprintsI have ugly feet. Ugly. I'm not exaggerating at all. Think Fred Flintstone. I used to want to hide them, but the older I get the less I care. I throw on some nail polish to hide the toes, but I still wear flip flops as long as I can. Socks are a pain that you only wear in winter to avoid frost bite.<br /><br />I used to avoid looking at them at all. But then one day I glanced down and a memory flashed through my mind. I remembered the day before we lost my dad how we were at the hospital visiting him and I wasn't sure where to look. I wasn't comfortable with my dad being so vulnerable. His blanket didn't cover him all the way and my gaze lingered on his feet. Like mine, they were calloused and rough looking. The toes were kind of ugly. I didn't realize then that I was looking into a mirror.<br /><br />Not only do I have my dad's eyes, I have his feet. Two very important things. Sometimes living without my dad feels like a test. A bad joke. A reality I will never get used to. But finding parts of him in unexpected places. That helps.<br />
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He is me. He's in my eyes. In my sense of humor... My smile. Now he's part of the path I walk every day. He guides me with his feet. And if we were Flintstones, he could even drive my car.<br /><br />Melanie Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04552401861776930787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8673668836003846720.post-79644354774474809242016-07-14T09:33:00.001-04:002016-07-14T10:49:48.431-04:00Throwback MyspaceHi y'all! I know it's been awhile since I've posted here. I've missed this spot! But the other day my blog post, <a href="http://authormelanieanderson.blogspot.com/2013/07/walking-dog_12.html" target="_blank">Walking the Dog</a>, about my trip to Petco with Scooter came up in my Timehop. It reminded me of all the crazy ways I found to fill my time during my unemployment. And it still made me laugh.<br />
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It also made me think of my Myspace blog. (Do you remember Myspace?? Man I feel old). So yesterday, I went on the site and was able to find a way to download all my blog posts. It wasn't pretty but they were all there! As I looked for my favorite oatmeal cookie story, I stumbled on another Petco story. The same exact Petco! But this time it was about Sheena. My last dog who I still miss a lot. Reading over the story I had forgotten all about how crazy she could be as well. So I decided to share the story here. As a Throwback Thursday Greatest Hits addition.<br />
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So here it is... I hope you enjoy! (I apologize for any grammar or formatting errors. Myspace was a more informal place. Tom didn't care!).<br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">3/26/07:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">On Saturday, I took my dog Sheena to be groomed at Petco. I made this appointment two months ago when we took her to be groomed the last time. And we had no problems then.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This time was quite a different story...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She was fine going into the store, but as soon as we turned to go in the door that leads to the grooming place, she stopped and sat down. I was like, "C'mon Sheena. Let's go! Daddy's in there!" (I only took my son). She gave me a look like I was stupid. She knew he Daddy wasn't in there! I tried some Dog Whisperer tactics, "Ssst." But that had no effect either. In fact, it seemed to scare her more until the point where she's trying to back out of her collar.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Now at this point, we're still in the little vestibule between the two sets of automatic sliding doors. If she'd gotten loose, she could've gone either in the store or out the door. Which door will be it be? Door #1 where you'll just run free through the store or Door #2 where you'll run free through a parking lot full of cars just waiting to hit you? Neither one a very good option.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Panicked, I change tactics. This time I walked her into the Petco and towards the inside door that leads to the grooming place. Oh, but she was far more clever than me. I think she can smell torture. Or shampoo. She sat down again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Dammit.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The grooming place is busy as hell so no one is paying the least attention to us. We're standing in this big open space at the front of the store where they have adoptions events and such. In fact there is a lady still there putting tables away from one they must've had right before we got there. She ignores us, too.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I study Sheena who is lying on the floor with not a care in the world. That's when I turn to J. "Okay, I'm going to pull her by the collar and you push her butt." And that's what we do. I'm backing up while pulling Sheena's collar and J is pushing her backside. I'm sure it was quite a picture. Caesar would've been laughing his ass off if he saw that one.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It doesn't work. She somehow digs in on the tiled floor and we only get her to move a couple feet. That's when I start over. I start walking her around the store, trying to get her to relax and forget all about grooming. Then I slowly walk over to the door, hoping she's not paying attention.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Yeah, right!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She stops, sits down and starts barking. And she barks loud. This is her mad bark. "Oh, hell no, Mom! I told you! I'm NOT going in there! They make me take a bath!" Actually, it reminded me of my husband in a way.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Meanwhile, J is all embarrassed. "Sssssh, Sheena. Stop barking!" </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This is when the adoption lady makes her move. She hands me a piece of paper. "We have all kinds of dogs up for adoption. Mainly hound dogs and beagles. I guess the hunters just let them go."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I give her an incredulous look. Did she really think I wanted <em>another </em>one? Has she not been paying attention? Or does she think I like to spend my Saturday afternoons hanging out in front of the Petco? But I just take the paper without saying a word.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I tell J to go inside the grooming place to get one of the treats they have in a jar. He agrees reluctantly and it takes him like five minutes to get his nerve up to take one. Like the ladies working there were going to think it was for him and start accusing him of stealing dog treats. Sometimes I wonder about that boy...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">That's when I find out that bribery does not work with my dog. After all, it's not Filet Mignon. Sheena isn't that cheap! She sits back down so that she can bark at me some more. What the hell do they <em>do</em> to dogs back there?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Twenty minutes have gone by and we're now officially late for an appointment that is only about five feet away from where we're at. I'm just fed up at this point. I tell J to hold Sheena while I go talk to the ladies inside.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I hand J her leash, and with J holding her, she follows me inside. WTF???</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I had to be pack leader! That's what it was! Dammit. I should really start paying more attention to that show.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But that's not the end of our adventure. Oh no.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">At the front desk, I tell the lady my name and that I have (had) an appointment. She looks in her appointment book. "I don't see you."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">What? I look down at the desk calendar where I remember the lady writing down the appointment and point. "There we are. Sheena."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She looks at me like I'm stupid. "Well, that was for the 24<sup>th</sup>."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Umm," I look around. "What is today?" Yeah, it's the 24<sup>th</sup>. This does not make her happy. I have enraged the grooming lady. No wonder Sheena didn't want to in there. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Nobody wrote it down in the appointment book," she says, like it was my fault. "Well, I don't have time for you today," she snaps.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Fine. Make me another appointment then." Yes, I should've made a bigger deal out of this since I really did have an appointment, but I was tired and cranky and wanted to leave Hellco.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There was another lady nearby grooming a dog who speaks up, "You have to give her 10% off."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> "Fine. I don't care. I'll give her 10% off."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Jeez, woman, chill. Obviously not a dog whisperer or a people whisperer for that matter.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I made an appointment for next weekend and we leave. But not before Sheena pisses all over the front sidewalk. You go girl!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I think next time my husband WILL be there. And maybe even <span style="font-size: 9pt;">Cesar Milan If I can get him to</span> fly out from LA. "Sssst!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">That's it! Thanks for traveling back to 2007 with me! Maybe next time we'll make some cookies...</span></div>
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Melanie Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04552401861776930787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8673668836003846720.post-70232338115992254202015-03-23T14:30:00.002-04:002015-03-23T14:32:24.695-04:00Camp Time!In a little over a week, I'm going to participate in the <a href="http://campnanowrimo.org/" target="_blank">Camp NANOWRIMO</a>. I'm very excited and working on my story idea. But in the meantime, I still have the book I wrote in the NANOWRIMO November session. I also have another book I wrote a couple years ago. Right before I got laid off.<br />
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I write books. I just never know what to do with them. Both of them need work. I paid someone to edit the first of these two books and it's completely marked up. The critiques are mostly about my passive voice and my pronouns. I almost need a complete rewrite of this one. But the good news is that I can look at it again. After I got laid off, I shut the book away in my mind so I never saw it again. It was an office romance dedicated to my coworkers and it was such a painful subject then. But looking at it now, the story isn't as bad as I thought. All this time, I think I made the critiques from my editor so much bigger in my mind. Like she said, "THIS BOOK IS AWFUL. AWFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUL."<br />
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The second book is my most recent one has not been edited at all, but I have been going over the first draft. I've come to realize that I don't like the style I wrote it in. I wrote it in a past/present style. One chapter would be set in the present, with the next chapter being in the past. Past, present, repeat until the end. The first thing I did with this book is remove all the past chapters and saved them into another folder. Now I just need to read the book without the past and see if any are truly needed.<br />
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Fun stuff, huh? I wish that simply writing a book is the hard part for me. For me, it's editing and acknowledging all my weaknesses. I have so many stories in my mind, I just have a hard time putting the down in writing.<br />
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I love writing and since that's what I love, I will keep doing it. Eventually something will stick. I've been wrestling with mortality lately and I know I will regret not pushing ahead. Not writing. I know that's why my dad would want me to do. I have his picture in the shelf across from my desk and I look at all day long. I saw his eyes in my rearview mirror this morning. Yes, they were actually my eyes, but today the looked more like his. I always understood the scene where Harry Potter sees Dumbledore in the mirror that Sirrius gave him. It's actually Albus' eye, but I know the feeling. I often seem my dad in the mirror.<br />
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The point is that I think if he was here, he would tell me to keep pushing. To keep swimming. Even if I'm the only person that reads these books. Even if they are crap. Because I don't like to think of the alternative to writing.<br />
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Wish me luck! :)Melanie Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04552401861776930787noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8673668836003846720.post-55369672743802934762015-03-19T10:26:00.004-04:002015-03-19T10:28:36.556-04:00Throwback Thursday: My First KissMy first kiss happened my freshmen year of high school. For some reason I thought I was oldest person ever to not be kissed. Never mind that I was probably all of 14 or 15 at the time. I needed to be kissed and NOW. I started my high school year determined to be kissed, whatever it took.<br />
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My first kiss wasn't a DJ Tanner moment where I waited for the right guy and the right timing. I can't even remember how I met the guy we kissed. I just know he qualified for the job by having long hair (in the day of hair metal bands, this was all it took) and lips. Really, that's all I was looking for.</div>
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I remember his name, but seeing that we are in the digital age, I won't say it here. I do have one picture of us together in school. In it, I have a really bad perm and crazy eyes. He's wearing a jean jacket and a dopey expression. I believe we are holding a stuffed animal of some sort. I don't know why.</div>
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The kiss happened on the bleachers of my high school. I do remember that. I'm assuming it happened during lunch since we had open lunch at the time. </div>
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I have to admit that I didn't like him that much. But I didn't <i>not</i> like him. I was just curious about what it was like to be kissed and he served that purpose. My best friend at the time tried to show me how to kiss (no, this isn't <i>that </i>kind of story...we didn't practice with each other), by having me kiss my arm.</div>
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It's not the same. And my arm still hasn't forgiven me for the violation of our trust.</div>
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When the kiss did happen, there wasn't fireworks or music. There wasn't even a cheesy 80's ballad in the background. It was weird. There was a lot of tongue. I didn't really feel anything, but self conscious. </div>
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My real first kiss with someone I actually loved came later. In the meantime though, I had been kissed and had started my high school career the way I wanted. I got the worse grades of my life my freshmen year, but I had experience kissing, so what did that matter? I was a mature woman-child who didn't need no stinkin' education! </div>
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I broke up with him a couple weeks later and never looked back. But he will always be a footnote in the story of my life. I think that's pretty cool. He probably wouldn't. And neither does my arm...</div>
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Melanie Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04552401861776930787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8673668836003846720.post-59065785664148428202014-08-07T07:38:00.004-04:002014-08-07T13:03:03.693-04:00Just Add SaltLast night my husband and I had a discussion about letting our dog Scooter out in the morning. Now that I leave for work at five, he usually goes out around 4 to 4:15. It's dark at that time! And we live in the country.<br />
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Me: When I let Scooter out and feed the cats, I leave the front door open in case of emergency.<br />
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Him: Wait. You are saying that while I'm in the house sleeping you leave the front door wide open? So one morning I'm going to wake up with a bear hovering over me??<br />
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Me: No, the cats are there, so it can't be dangerous. I'm pretty sure they smell bear.<br />
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Him: So one morning I'm going to wake up with a bear hovering over me eating a cat??<br />
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Me: Don't be ridiculous. I don't think the bear will walk all the way into our bedroom to eat a cat. It would probably eat it in the living room where its close to the kitchen. In case it needs salt.<br />
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Him: I'm glad to know these things happen while I'm sleeping.<br />
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Me: What can I say? It's a bear-eat-cat world out there.Melanie Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04552401861776930787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8673668836003846720.post-73089667600094155522014-07-27T10:43:00.001-04:002014-07-27T10:43:39.253-04:00One Day at a Time...I started a new job this week and it's great! I'm working with my former coworker and friend Sunny and it's in an exciting area to work in. I chronicled my days on Facebook and I decided to cut and paste them over here so they are all in one place and can be read in order.<br />
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<strong>Day One:</strong><br />
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">Well, the first day is done! I am sooo freaking tired. I made the big mistake of wearing a new pair of flats today. By the end of the day my ankles were in so much pain I was limping off the Metro while biting back my whimpers. But other than that it was an awesome day! I got to shadow my friend and coworker (again) Sunny, who made me feel right at home and showed me around the area. Our office lo<span class="text_exposed_hide">...</span><span class="text_exposed_show">oks over at some high rise condos and we are just waiting to see an ugly naked guy. <i class="_4-k1 img sp_F6Afu2XGiZY sx_eee5ea"></i> <br /><br /> Then when I got home this evening, my mom had cake and ice cream from her and my doggie friends congratulating me on my new job and my first day. I still haven't ate dinner, but I did have cake and ice cream! That's a good night if you ask me! <br /><br /> All in all, an awesome, but exhausting day! <i class="_4-k1 img sp_F6Afu2XGiZY sx_a8bc3e"></i> Now if someone could get me new feet, I can do it again tomorrow!</span></span></div>
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<strong>Day Two:</strong></div>
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">Day 2: I still don't have a computer, but I'm shadowing Sunny and we share a computer...and a brain sometimes! <i class="_4-k1 img sp_F6Afu2XGiZY sx_eee5ea"></i> Today we set up my voicemail and when I wasn't sure what to use for a greeting, she just recorded it for me. If you call my work number that's not me. Yes, I Milli Vanilli'd my voicemail.<br /><br /> I also wore tennis shoes to walk in and comfortable flats for work. I wore black trouser socks too.<span class="text_exposed_hide">...</span><span class="text_exposed_show"> With shorts. Ha! No. But that would be a good work look. Maybe tomorrow? I could rock that look I'm sure.<br /><br /> Other than getting stuck in traffic this morning and a weird case of vertigo where I thought the building was falling (yeah, that was weird), it was a good day!</span></span></div>
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<br />Black socks with sandals and shorts? Hmm...</div>
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<strong>Day Three:</strong></div>
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">I don't think the subway is for me. Because there are people on it. On the way home today I let so many over-crowded trains go by me that I almost became a mole person living in the tunnels under Virginia. If I ever go missing start your search in the tunnels under the Rosslyn station. I will be living there with a few rats I call my cats.<br /><br /> For lunch I went with Sunny while she picked up a <span class="text_exposed_hide">...</span><span class="text_exposed_show">salad at Chop't. I had a salad from Mel't. Aka... My house. Mine wasn't as fun as hers! Nobody chopped mine!<br /><br /> One the way back we got some crepes from a man who sits in a little food cart on the corner. Just like they do in France! We were feeling French today. Très bon. <br /><br /> Still no computer, but we had meetings and teleconferences and I made calls! Tomorrow she's leaving me to go to another site and I will have her computer all to myself. But I will be lonely because there will be no female companionship. And no lunchtime adventures looking for donuts and fries!<br /><br /> Two more days and my first week will be over! <i class="_4-k1 img sp_F6Afu2XGiZY sx_a8bc3e"></i> A wonderful yet loooooooong week. Thanks for coming along for the ride!</span></span></div>
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I got my computer today! A loaner, but it's a computer. And Sunny's appointment got cancelled so I had my work buddy. Yay!<br /><br /> For lunch we went to get some gyro's and I had a great moment where I forgot the word gyro. The walls were plastered with pictures of pita's and gyros and I just blanked out while the lady stared at me impatiently. It's like going to McDonald's and forgetting the word <span class="text_exposed_hide">...</span><span class="text_exposed_show">hamburger. Or Mc anything. McGyro. That would be awesome! <br /><br /> I think I mentioned earlier that I keep feeling like the building is falling. We are on the 11th floor and even though that's not high in the high rise world, it didn't stop me from experiencing a weird vertigo feeling all week. It's gotten better except in the ladies room. It's so small and the floor uneven, that I feel like Sandy and Danny in the Funhouse scene from Grease. (Tell me about it...stud). If it doesn't get better I'm going to have to take Dramamine just to go to work! The building was built in the 60's so maybe it's just the ghost of all the chain-smoking, whiskey drinking workers messing with me. Probably pissed we are no longer secretaries getting them coffee while they cop a feel when we walk by.<br /><br /> Then when I got off the Metro I tried to add money to my Smartrip card (the Metro system drops off the second "T". It's very smar of them.) and it stole my $5. When I started this job, I imagined myself getting robbed many times in the city, but not by the Metro itself. I had the station manager help me add the $5 back, but then when I went to use it for parking it told me there was an error. Yes, I now have Stupidtrip card. Fingers crossed I can use it tomorrow! <br /><br /> One more day! ONE MORE DAY. I'm glad it will be Friday, but not because it's been a bad week. Just because my feet still need to heal from my bad choice in flats and all the walking. I just need sleep. This waking up at 5 makes me feel like a farmer. A farmer with five tomato plants, some sunflowers and a herd of cats. I miss my cats! I need quality cat and Scooter time.<br /><br /> Until tomorrow!</span></div>
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<strong>Day Five:</strong></div>
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I made it! One week of work! It's such an awesome feeling being employed again. Being unemployed for awhile makes your doubt your skills. But I got mad skillz yo! Sorry. I'm so very tired.<br /><br /> I miss shadowing Sunny but it's good she gets her desk back and I can learn at my own desk. That doesn't mean she loses her shadow for good though! I've still only been there a week. I need to shadow any<span class="text_exposed_hide">...</span><span class="text_exposed_show">one I can! I'm much like a groundhog that way.<br /><br /> We decide to head over the bridge to Georgetown for lunch. It's a pretty area! We see the cupcake shop from the DC Cupcakes show. Mmm... Cupcakes. We don't stop, but it's on the list! Long line and all. Oh and there's a Benetton! I didn't know that store still existed. Actually, there are a lot of stores we didn't think made it pass the 80's. I figure this is where the 80's stores went to retire. If we looked around more, we'd probably find a Jordache jeans store. We have an awesome lunch at Chadwicks, which has a beautiful view of the Kennedy Center and a homeless man sleeping in the middle of the road. Ahh... DC.<br /><br /> We check out the waterfront real quick and head back. Even though we are like five minutes from Gtown (the cool people call it that), the traffic is crazy. Sunny figures we'll just swim across the Potomac next time since it would be faster. I think it's the Potomac River. Well, we will swim across the blue(esh) wet stuff surrounding us. Whatever it's called.<br /><br /> Something happens with a whiteboard, but it's too long to tell and you kind of had to be there. But it's a funny story involving elevators, a delivery man, a whiteboard the size of a Volkswagen Beetle and a man carrying a sleeping bag. I'm pretty sure we are one of the few people who have a funny white board story. That is what this job is like! You just never know what will happen! <br /><br /> I'm sure there's more I wanted to tell, but I'm blanking at the moment. I just know that this has been a wonderful, scary, sometimes confusing but awesome week! I love being employed and I love working with my friend Sunny. I owe her more than I can say both professionally and personally. She rocks at being a friend and coworker! <br /><br /> Well, I probably won't bore you with stories past this first week and eventually I'll get into a routines that will not be as fun for you to hear about. I'm sure you don't want to know when I make copies or send emails. But since we will still be in the city, I'm sure I'll still have a few!<br /><br /> Thanks again for being my cheering squad now that I'm employed, but especially when I wasn't. Having all this support helped motivate me to go to interview after interview even when I didn't want to. Now I'm going to go pass out for about 10 hours... Night-night!</span></div>
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It's hard to believe that tomorrow I have to do this all again. Everything is so much faster in the city and you get tired fast! Tomorrow I plan on driving to see what that will be like. That should be an adventure! </div>
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Wish me luck!</div>
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Melanie Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04552401861776930787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8673668836003846720.post-55532933920969443052014-06-30T21:38:00.002-04:002014-06-30T21:46:41.767-04:00A Year Ago Today.It's been a year since I was laid off. A year that was like a roller coaster, with many highs and lows. Some loops. A few moments when I wanted to puke. The whole package.<br />
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I had two short-term jobs that each had their own pro's and con's. I miss them both, but I kind of knew they weren't "the one." I'm still grateful though. They helped get me back into the game and stopped me from growing cob webs. <br />
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I still miss my old work family so much, even though I still see a lot of them. It's hard to believe we won't all be together again. There's a part of me that still feels this is a nightmare I'll eventually wake up from. But now that it's been a year, I think it's sinking in now.<br />
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I'm waiting to hear about the job I interviewed with the other day. I both look forward to and dread starting a new job. Beginnings are always difficult, but worth it to get to the good stuff. Kind of like a burrito. You need to chew through the tortilla to get to the meaty goodness in the middle. Man, I'm hungry now. Where was I? Oh yes. New jobs. I look forward to finding a new work family, although it will be hard to find one as good as the one I had (have). <br />
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I just felt like this anniversary needed to be acknowledged in some way. It's been a year and I'm survived. I've gained a bit of weight, lost a little confidence and had some dark moments. Like when our Blazer got rear-ended by a dump truck with my husband in it. I was working at home and had to jump into my car and race down the road to make sure he was ok. He was, but the truck was a wreck. The dump truck's insurance is paying for it and it got towed away today, but it was sad because my husband had just put a lot work and money into it and it should've lasted longer. <br />
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But there were good moments too. I got to spend a lot of time with my son and help him gain some independence. He has his license and now has a van to drive. I also got to spend time with my friend Katie and her kids and now her daughter is almost 1! I was there the day after she was born. Moments like that wouldn't happen if I was working. <br />
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Like I said, there were good and bad moments from this year. It was a cruel winter and I didn't think I would get through it, but I did. I even picked cross-stitching back up, a hobby I have missed doing. It helps relax me when everything is overwhelming. I just have to say that watching Friends and cross-stitching is a cure for anything!<br />
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I have high hopes for the next couple months. As long as I just keep swimming, I'll do all right. And stop by Chipotle, because I really need a burrito now...<br />
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I just want to make sure I thank all the family and friends here and on Facebook and who live with me for all the support I've received. I would never have done it without you. You know who you are!<br />
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Thank you. <br />
<br />Melanie Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04552401861776930787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8673668836003846720.post-48778855948304638832014-06-26T13:13:00.002-04:002014-06-26T17:53:28.325-04:00Throwback Matey's!I have an interview tomorrow. It's with the same company I was supposed to start working for this week, but for a different department. In honor of the interview, I decided to dig up an old work picture of me for Throwback Thursday (#tbt for those who speak in hashtags). <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5AFR-aAmbq_aBc2lS3j9n-iTzgTEguKRW27ePgRfjdUxS9lhBQkUs1mHXMWdZvuAQ1DGb-_4uxT_SFdBbO5QW4h4jyuJ8Srx-7wTJ15K9Rkm03EfUVi-In2ZL6KuJu50ApnNIc0twqSwi/s1600/001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5AFR-aAmbq_aBc2lS3j9n-iTzgTEguKRW27ePgRfjdUxS9lhBQkUs1mHXMWdZvuAQ1DGb-_4uxT_SFdBbO5QW4h4jyuJ8Srx-7wTJ15K9Rkm03EfUVi-In2ZL6KuJu50ApnNIc0twqSwi/s1600/001.jpg" height="280" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The memo was *THIS* big!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Here I am at my first full time job at PricewaterhouseCoopers or just Price Waterhouse back then. I believe this is also my first official desk that was all mine and boy am I proud of it! I shared an office with another girl whose job it was to do research in Lexus Nexus, but usually slept while holding papers to her face and pretending to read. She thought no one knew, but everyone knew. <br />
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As you can see, I'm wearing a nautical themed vest my grandmother made me, which, while very cute, probably wasn't the most professional office attire. Unless I was going sailing later on my yacht. I can see this is after a bad dye job and my hair has that lovely "wave" in it, which was my early 90's attempt at big hair. <br />
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Judging by the angle of the camera, I'm assuming I had it on a timer, because I'm pretty sure no one would take this picture. Do we want to guess what that pose was supposed to be?<br />
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"Wow. Look at this. It's work! Ooooo!"<br />
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"Wow. My desk is so shiny!"<br />
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"I'm so overwhelmed by all this work that I don't even have time to fake pose while taking a picture of my desk!"<br />
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"Maybe tomorrow I will wear a shirt with cats on it!" <br />
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I was also out the day they taught us how to sit in skirts. How ladylike I was! <br />
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Notice the big clunky computer screen behind me? At least I can prove to my son that computers did exist when I was younger and we didn't use rocks and an abacus. I did use an adding machine with tape to reconcile numbers, but we won't mention that. I do miss that clattery, clunking sound. *sigh* I digress...<br />
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Despite all of this, I do have fond memories of that job and that office. Even my narcoleptic officemate. I love to work and have taken pride in every job I've had. I can't say the same for my hairdo's though...<br />
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Hmm... Maybe I was actually trying to make the desk levitate using just my mind! Oooommm... Have a happy Thursday everyone! Ahoy!Melanie Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04552401861776930787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8673668836003846720.post-58330162404345694342014-06-25T23:04:00.001-04:002014-06-25T23:14:33.891-04:00Swinging the Summer AwayI love summer. I love everything about it. I love the fireflies, the long days and the hot temps. I just love it. Another part of the summer I enjoy is seeing all the summer shows on television. Some of them are the same old comedies and crime dramas, but some of them are a little bit cheesy, a little more risky and just plain fun. I don't catch a lot of shows because I'm more of a reruns on DVD type of person, but there was one summer show I didn't miss.<br />
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It was the summer of '08 and one I would gladly forget if I could. It was the summer we lost my father. Yet despite that, one thing happened that I never forgot no matter how many summers have passed since. That was the show Swingtown.<br />
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If you're not familiar with this show, it was a period piece set in 1976, about a couple--the Miller's, who move into a new neighborhood and meet their neighbors, the Decker's, an awesome "It" couple, oh, who also happen to be swingers. <br />
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The group of friends I chatted with at the time were fascinated by this show. It was before Mad Men and it was on a regular network--CBS, so it had to be a bit censored. But, oh my, was it wonderful. <br />
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Unfortunately, the show didn't make it pass that summer. It only had one season and I'm not entirely sure why. I think I read that the ratings didn't support the amount of money it cost to produce this period show, so it went into the summer show graveyard. Yet I never forgot.<br />
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When it came to DVD I wanted to buy it, but instead it hung out in my Amazon cart for many years. For some reason I could never pull the trigger on it. Then three years ago, I quit smoking and my friend Suz sent me a present to encourage me. Swingtown on DVD! She knows me so well!<br />
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So fast forward to now, the summer of '14 and here I am having kind of a crappy summer. My second summer being unemployed isn't as hopeful as my first summer. In fact, the thought of applying for jobs wears me out and gets me down. I need a pick-me-up. I need to visit Swingtown!<br />
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Yesterday I pulled out the DVD's and by today I'd finished them. It's just that good!<br />
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Like I said, this is the story of Susan and Bruce Miller who move to a better neighborhood in a suburb near Chicago and meet their neighbors Tom and Trina Decker. Yet, they also have a hard time leaving behind their old neighbors Roger and Janet Thompson. Janet is kind of the 50's prototype wife at the beginning and Roger is the browbeaten husband. Of course all that changes in Swingtown! <br />
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Instead of typing it all up, I'll just copy some of the notes I took:<br />
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The first show has the Millers swinging with the Decker's. They don't mess around! Trina offers Susan a Quaalude and it goes from there... <br />
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The clothes are awesome! Since I was born in the 70's, I never wore any of the clothes, but my Barbies had hand-me-downs from the 70's and the clothes I saw on Trina and Susan were all familiar to me. Silky blouses tied at the waist and long, flowing dresses with no bra underneath. Of course!<br />
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Janet (the stuffy neighbor) made something called Rosy Perfection Salad and I can't get it out of mind.<br />
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The Decker's basement was where all the swinging occurred, but because it was on a regular network, you didn't really see much. Usually it was one dude with a bunch of women dry humping him. Everything had to be alluded to. <br />
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Grant Snow from the old Melrose Place (and the only one that counts) plays Tom Decker and OMG he's hot and awesome and has a porn 'stach! A good one too. Kind of like Tom Selleck. And he wears John Travolta 'Dance Fever' suits and tight swimming trunks and is always the one behind the bar mixing the drinks. <br />
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Roger Thompson is played by Josh Hopkins, who is also Grayson on one of my other favorite shows, Cougar Town (he likes shows with towns in it I guess), but I honestly don't see Grayson when I watch it. I just see Roger. Roger who seems really stuffy in his suits until one day you see him in a swimsuit and you are like, "Oh....my....God."<br />
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There are kids in this show too. They are annoying because they take away from the adults and the swimming and the basements. Then sometimes they disappear and you are like, "OMG... Who is watching the children?" But since I grew up in the 80's, where you pretty much did what you wanted during the summer, it's not surprising at all that this was happening in the 70's too. <br />
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There's also a 17 year old daughter having a fling with her 24 year old teacher, which wouldn't be so bad, but the girl who plays her is so freaking annoying and self righteous it's grows old fast and you just want to see more men in tight swimming trunks. Give me the trunks! Give me more porn 'stache!<br />
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Another child storyline was a girl who lived next door to the Miller's who has a drunk slutty mother, who doesn't give a crap about her daughter most of the time. The girl befriends the Miller's son and they have a bit of a summer romance, but again, it took me away from the basement for way too long! I did like seeing Roger and Janet's son drinking leftover liquor from the adults glasses. I used to do that! Not because I wanted to drink, but because I was thirsty. Who ever expected rum in a glass of soda at 8 in the morning? Ahh... The days when drinking was just what you did and smoking expected. <br />
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How happy was I see they even gave the Thompson's a wood paneled station wagon?? Hell to the yeah!<br />
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<em>Fondue!! </em>Yes, there was fondue. And ever since I watched it, I'm had a hankering for some melted cheese. I even priced fondue pots on Amazon.<br />
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I love this show and I'm so disappointed they cancelled, I feel like a Firefly fan, except there are no 'con's for short-lived sex-themed shows on a major network. Well, maybe there is, but I doubt I'll go to one. How freaky would that be??<br />
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Everything about the show felt realistic. I was never pulled out of the show thinking they got something wrong. They even used rotary phones! When Roger is unemployed and Janet gets a job, there's even an ass-grabbing boss. That's the 70's! Man, I wish I had a job...even an ass grabbing one. <br />
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Sometimes I think this show would've been better on a higher channel or maybe AMC, but then I think it might've got too gritty and too realistic. I watched the first season of Mad Men and even though I liked it and I loved the realism, it was too real. I like my swinging sugar coated!<br />
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Swingtown takes you back without actually going back. It asks a lot of important questions like: "Is it cheating when you swing?" <br />
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"Is it ok to sleep with other people when your spouse is away?"<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP1fgOX_RDQlkm2OpVSjYZrKYi4bfIGak05HOfTmat7yY0YYYOGXTPD0qrGR5-pqj2DTg09hBOnnYC904cuk1PonUWYk4CRSPKrhJ6KhSdssPBYUv07QvoQjRZFMUwFf8XfP2ChyphenhyphenLaYSjX/s1600/Swingtown+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP1fgOX_RDQlkm2OpVSjYZrKYi4bfIGak05HOfTmat7yY0YYYOGXTPD0qrGR5-pqj2DTg09hBOnnYC904cuk1PonUWYk4CRSPKrhJ6KhSdssPBYUv07QvoQjRZFMUwFf8XfP2ChyphenhyphenLaYSjX/s1600/Swingtown+(2).jpg" height="640" width="356" /></a><br />
"Is swinging the gateway drug to infidelity?"<br />
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"Can I get my hair to feather like that?"<br />
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"How do you make pigs in a pickle?" Janet made them and they sounded awesome!<br />
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"Would my husband look good in a porn 'stache?"<br />
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"Where did all the fondue pots from the 70's go?" <br />
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These are all important questions that come up while watching this show. Oh and I had to let my friend Suz know I was taking another visit to the basement. After all, she was the one who gave me the key (there is an actual key party in the finale!). Sadly, she got the title wrong so she had to be punished burping Tupperware at Janet's party! I guess it's starting to fade a little for all of us...<br />
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The finale left us with all kinds of cliffhangers and sadly we will never know what happens next.<br />
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Like a summer romance, it was fun, but way too short. If you ever find the DVD's or see this show anywhere, I recommend you watch! <br />
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Embrace the basement. It may lead to the best summer of your life!<br />
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<br />Melanie Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04552401861776930787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8673668836003846720.post-8809755791435629742014-06-19T22:26:00.001-04:002014-06-20T07:43:55.776-04:00Say Hello To My Little FriendToday I went shopping at Target with my friend Katie and her three kids. While walking down an aisle with her daughter Elizabeth, I picked up a box of cat food.<br />
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Elizabeth: "Melanie, do you have cats?"<br />
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Me: "I do. I have six actually. Well, I don't <i>really</i> have six. They live outside. I just feed them." Notice I felt a need to defend having six cats to an eight year old. That's the shame I feel.<br />
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We walked along in silence until, "Did you make that up?" She asked in an accusing voice. "You don't really have six cats!"<br />
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It's nice that children think having six cats is something cool enough to make up. I'm pretty sure in adult land, pretending you have six cats makes you a special kind of crazy cat lady.<br />
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I told Katie about it and she started to laugh. We imagined what it would be like if I really was making it up and what I thought were cats were something else. Like that eyeglasses commercial where the lady invites a raccoon into her house, thinking its her cat.<br />
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Katie would come to my house and be like, "Uh... That's a squirrel. That one is a raccoon. And I don't even know what that is."<br />
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Me: "No, they are my cats."<br />
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Her: "That one is foaming from the mouth. And it's biting you."<br />
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Me: "They are love bites!"<br />
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Her: "Is that a fox?"<br />
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But alas, I really do have six cats. In my defense though, they are rarely all home at the same time so it's more like I run a B&B for cats. That's better, right?<br />
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Whatever. Just say hello to Fluffy. Yes, he always hisses and coils like that. What do you mean cats don't have scales? I'm pretty sure they do! I just wish I knew where my other cats were and what those lumps are in Fluffy...Melanie Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04552401861776930787noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8673668836003846720.post-49203026634527667832014-05-12T09:18:00.001-04:002014-05-14T07:58:12.926-04:00Working Nine to Five in SweatsI currently have a temp job where I work at home full time. I went to the office for a week and a half and I haven't been back since. Working at home seems wonderful, but like all jobs it has its pro's and cons...<br />
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Pro: No longer having to dress up for work. <br />
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Con: There's no incentive to maintain your weight. Sweatpants always fit!<br />
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Pro: No coworkers.<br />
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Con: No coworkers. The best part of working is all the new people you meet. I miss my CACI family so much! There's a bond there you just don't get when you work at home.<br />
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Pro: Setting up your own desk.<br />
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Con: Having your dog walk all over your desk. There's a window Scooter uses to go outside. It's right at level with my desk. There's nothing like having a dog staring at your while you work. (Almost makes you miss those people who were tall enough to look down over your cube wall at you while you worked. Almost...)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT_WBHU11ajSSz-dJCjo2wP7Ux-koPoEmLeFWd7j-tW35RJ52heJQjduND8zw3wS7zGH6BRscHOaF1CV9E7eRa45ROJiEeWgBVYiVSBQNhjemZlvWvbTzASjXP_a-IL0X1qdXxtN7Vox_A/s1600/Scooter+at+my+desk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT_WBHU11ajSSz-dJCjo2wP7Ux-koPoEmLeFWd7j-tW35RJ52heJQjduND8zw3wS7zGH6BRscHOaF1CV9E7eRa45ROJiEeWgBVYiVSBQNhjemZlvWvbTzASjXP_a-IL0X1qdXxtN7Vox_A/s320/Scooter+at+my+desk.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Pro: Having a paycheck. This is a good thing after being laid off.<br />
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Con: It's not very much. I feel like Rachel on Friends getting her first paycheck. "Who's this FICA guy and why's he taking my money?" This is an entry level data entry job. I was making the same amount when I started my job 12 years ago. But hey, like I said, it's a paycheck!<br />
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Pro: No commute! This is how I can make this little amount of money.<br />
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Con: No commute. Call me strange, but I enjoyed my commute (as long as there was no traffic). I enjoyed listening to my satellite radio and having that time to think. Now I just leave my desk and go in the other room. The only traffic I get is when Scooter and I try to leave the room at the same time. (He always has the right-of-way!)<br />
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Pro: Everything is online so there's no paperwork. After years and years of killing trees, I'm hoping they have now forgiven me. <br />
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Con: Everything is online. I live in the country where you are limited on internet options. We have satellite internet, which limits your downloads. It's been a problem at times, but I'm learning to work around it. It would be better if someone would bring a better internet out here, but since it's a temp job, I'll deal. <br />
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Eventually I will probably need to pursue a full time job, but at the moment this will work. It is lonely though. I keep the television on in the background, but it's above my head where I can't see it, so it doesn't distract me from my work.<br />
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Oh and as you might've noticed, my blog moved! I decided to save money and not renew my Godaddy blog at this time. It wasn't very user friendly anyway. One of the reasons I stopped blogging is because I didn't feel like going through the trouble of logging in every time. Yes, I'm lazy. I always loved Blogger because they keep you logged in. Plus, it has my interview with Nora Roberts in it! For those new to this blog, feel free to look around. I especially love all my interviews. They are my pride and joy and are worth a read! Maybe I'll start them up again... I have time on my hands!<br />
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I did import all my Getting Laid... Off blog entries over here. That wasn't easy! First I had to import them to WordPress and then export a file out of WordPress and then convert that to a Blogger file.... Anyway... It wasn't easy!<br />
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I hope everyone continues to follow me here! Melanie Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04552401861776930787noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8673668836003846720.post-85340375469219887912014-02-17T18:19:00.000-05:002014-05-12T08:46:15.657-04:00In a Boat Without a Paddle<FONT style="font-size:14px;" face="Arial"><FONT style="font-size:14px;"></FONT>Today I pulled out my black suit jacket and rolled it with my lint brush so I don't have another unfortunate incident in the parking lot tomorrow. As much as I'm going to miss Scooter when I got back to work, I don't want to bring pieces of him with me on my jacket! You know.. Dog fur. I had to clarify because that sounded kind of gross. <BR><BR>As I was rolling the jacket, I slowed down and got nostalgic. I can remember buying this <A href="http://blog.authormelanieanderson.com/2013/07/20/field-of-suits.aspx" target="_blank">Suit</A> not long after I got laid off. I was so optimistic! So sure that it was going to get me hired fast! I remember my first <A href="http://blog.authormelanieanderson.com/2013/09/05/its-my-prerogative.aspx" target="_blank">interview</A> for a job I didn't get. <BR><BR>I also remember getting it dry cleaned and then waiting. And waiting. It felt like forever! Then I finally used it for the job agencies. Still nothing. And then without an interview, or the suit, I finally get a (temporary) job! <BR><BR>But I will be taking him with me tomorrow. (Yes, my suit is a him. I don't know why. It just popped into my head... Let's go with it.)<BR> <BR>I'm so nervous. It doesn't help that we are supposed to get a couple inches of snow tonight (really?!?) and I don't do well in snow. But it's supposed to stop early and I don't have to be there until 10, so I'm hoping the timing works out.<BR><BR>I have a list of things I need to do. And my friend Susie gave me some good advice that I added to the list: Just breathe. I have to remember to do that!<BR><BR>I will be ok. There are so many worse things I could be doing. I could be on a boat in the middle of the ocean like Robert Redford in All is Lost. (My new motto. Think of Robert Redford in a boat). That Slooh asteroid could be coming directly at us instead of missing us by a couple million miles or so. <BR><BR>So that's it. I could be Robert Redford. Or be hit by an asteroid. I do know how to put things in perspective! <BR><BR>Wish me luck...</FONT>Melanie Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04552401861776930787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8673668836003846720.post-21651154500661523152014-02-15T22:43:00.000-05:002014-05-12T08:46:15.666-04:00Faking It<FONT style="font-size:14px;" face="Arial"><FONT style="font-size:14px;"></FONT>If you are my friend on Facebook then you know that I signed a job offer on my birthday. It's the temporary job I was waiting for in my last post and starts on Tuesday. Do you know how when you are scared and almost dreading something, time just flies by? That's what's happening here.<BR><BR>Only two more days until I have to work. I was hired without an interview, so I don't even know these people except by email and phone. <BR><BR>I feel like I have so much more I need to do before working again. I wanted to learn to knit! I had more cross stitch projects I wanted to do. How am I going to watch Bones and Friends? Who is going to keep Scooter and the cats company?<BR><BR>There's no doubt I needed a job and I'm happy to have one, but I'd gotten used to a more relaxed lifestyle and how I can go back to the other way now?<BR><BR>I have lists of things I feel I need to do, but I haven't written them down. A haircut. Clothes. Shoes. What am I going to wear? Obviously my interview outfit the first day, but what is their dress code going to be? <BR><BR>I feel like it's the first day of school. In a new school. I did that once. I can do this too. And nobody is as judgmental as high school kids. Compared to that, this will be a piece of cake! Mmm... Cake. <BR><BR>The lady that I met at third job agency told me that she was an introvert so she has to "fake it until she makes it." I keep thinking that's what I'll have to do at first. Not fake my personality, but fake the confidence that I rarely actually feel except in writing. And Facebook.<BR><BR>I just have to focus. Get on track. I can do this. I CAN DO THIS. Fake it until I make it baby! <BR><BR>And eat plenty of cake. </FONT>Melanie Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04552401861776930787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8673668836003846720.post-78305223402543710592014-02-07T15:53:00.000-05:002014-05-12T08:46:15.705-04:00The Waiting Game<P><FONT style="font-size:14px;" face="Arial"><FONT style="font-size:14px;"></FONT>I got a job offer this week. It's a temporary job, but not through a job agency. The company contacted me on their own. I'm still waiting for them to finalize the paperwork and send me an offer letter. All of this makes me very nervous. Just the job description is extensive and it's been so long since I worked. But it's temporary which means I'm not committing to anything.<BR><BR>But I'm still waiting... And waiting. It's 1:49. I'm hoping to hear something soon or I won't hear anything until Monday. I don't even know when I'll start. It would be kind of sucky to start around my birthday, but if that's what I have to do...<BR><BR>3:48: I just got the email and it looks like details have been put off until a meeting on 2/11. I guess that's a sign I might not be working on my birthday, yet I was kind of hoping to go to work soon.<BR><BR>I guess that's the way it is in the employment game. It's a waiting game! Hey, that's the title of this blog entry. Wow. That's quite a coincidence! <BR><BR>Stay tuned because I do have another moscato to try his weekend! <IMG border="0" src="http://blog.authormelanieanderson.com/emoticons/smile.png"></FONT></P>Melanie Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04552401861776930787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8673668836003846720.post-37282776116527872802014-02-06T11:23:00.000-05:002014-05-12T08:46:15.714-04:00So Saucy<FONT style="font-size:14px;" face="Arial"><FONT style="font-size:14px;"></FONT><FONT style="font-size:14px;"></FONT>Lately I've been looking at old cookbooks. Whenever we go to thrift stores or used bookstores, I like to skim through them because some of the older recipes are just...gross and strange. My mom brought over some cookbooks she had and one of them was a children's cookbook from 1963. "For the Hostess and Host of tomorrow." Yeah, I'm scared too.<BR><BR>This is the first picture I see:<BR><BR><IMG style="border-top:0 solid;border-right:0 solid;border-bottom:0 solid;border-left:0 solid;" src="http://images.quickblogcast.com/1/7/8/8/2/333104-328871/SaucyFrank222x296.jpg?a=30"><BR><BR>Timmy: "Watch me take out my saucy frank..."<BR><BR>Sally: "Your frank is saucy. So plump..."<BR><BR>Just in case you thought I was making this up...<BR><BR><IMG style="border-top:0 solid;border-right:0 solid;border-bottom:0 solid;border-left:0 solid;" src="http://images.quickblogcast.com/1/7/8/8/2/333104-328871/SaucyFrank2480x640.jpg?a=9"><BR><BR>Saucy Franks give you plenty of spicy sauce for the buns... That's what he said!<BR><BR><IMG style="border-top:0 solid;border-right:0 solid;border-bottom:0 solid;border-left:0 solid;" src="http://images.quickblogcast.com/1/7/8/8/2/333104-328871/GrapeFloat.jpg?a=88"><BR><BR>After Amanda made herself a grape float, she went straight to the convent.<BR><BR><IMG style="border-top:0 solid;border-right:0 solid;border-bottom:0 solid;border-left:0 solid;" src="http://images.quickblogcast.com/1/7/8/8/2/333104-328871/ClownLemonade.jpg?a=83"><BR><BR>When life gives you lemons, this clown will suck out your soul!<BR><BR><BR><IMG style="border-top:0 solid;border-right:0 solid;border-bottom:0 solid;border-left:0 solid;" src="http://images.quickblogcast.com/1/7/8/8/2/333104-328871/CinnamonToast.jpg?a=80"><BR><BR>Even I don't need a recipe for cinnamon toast and I'm blonde!<BR><BR><IMG style="border-top:0 solid;border-right:0 solid;border-bottom:0 solid;border-left:0 solid;" src="http://images.quickblogcast.com/1/7/8/8/2/333104-328871/BobBoat.jpg?a=14"><BR><BR>Would anyone like to board the S.S. Bob? Destination...eww.<BR> <BR><IMG style="border-top:0 solid;border-right:0 solid;border-bottom:0 solid;border-left:0 solid;" src="http://images.quickblogcast.com/1/7/8/8/2/333104-328871/Egginabun.jpg?a=98"><BR><BR>Kids, if anyone wants to put a egg in your bun, say NO. Trust me.<BR><BR><IMG style="border-top:0 solid;border-right:0 solid;border-bottom:0 solid;border-left:0 solid;" src="http://images.quickblogcast.com/1/7/8/8/2/333104-328871/Some_mores.jpg?a=63"><BR><BR>Why is the girl on her knees making "some-mores"? That's not right! "Baby get down and make me some-more." At least it wasn't saucy franks.<BR><BR><IMG style="border-top:0 solid;border-right:0 solid;border-bottom:0 solid;border-left:0 solid;" src="http://images.quickblogcast.com/1/7/8/8/2/333104-328871/Some_moreonknees.jpg?a=36"><BR><BR>Here's a close-up. Feels like it might be one of those swingers clubs, but with snacks.<BR><BR><IMG style="border-top:0 solid;border-right:0 solid;border-bottom:0 solid;border-left:0 solid;" src="http://images.quickblogcast.com/1/7/8/8/2/333104-328871/DoughnutSundae480x640.jpg?a=90"><BR><BR>Have I ever tasted a doughnut sundae?? Hell no! That sounds like the best invention EVER! Why is the moon walk the biggest achievement we hear about from the 60's? We had doughnut sundaes! The 60's WERE awesome. I'm so trying that.<BR><BR><IMG style="border-top:0 solid;border-right:0 solid;border-bottom:0 solid;border-left:0 solid;" src="http://images.quickblogcast.com/1/7/8/8/2/333104-328871/EverydayDrumsticks.jpg?a=76"><BR><BR>This is not what you might thinking reading the word drumstick. It's ground beef on a stick. With bacon on it. Yeah, it's that awesome.<BR><BR><IMG style="border-top:0 solid;border-right:0 solid;border-bottom:0 solid;border-left:0 solid;" src="http://images.quickblogcast.com/1/7/8/8/2/333104-328871/SaucySpaghetti.jpg?a=28"><BR><BR>My spaghetti brings all the monkey's grinders to the yard... This is disturbing in many ways. First of all, why is this man lurking around this young girl's window? And why is spaghetti made with Vienna Sausages? It's literally a can of spaghetti with Vienna sausages added. It's redneck spaghetti! Or unemployed person spaghetti. Hmm... <BR><BR><IMG style="border-top:0 solid;border-right:0 solid;border-bottom:0 solid;border-left:0 solid;" src="http://images.quickblogcast.com/1/7/8/8/2/333104-328871/SuperSoup.jpg?a=92"><BR><BR>This soup. Not so super... <BR><BR><IMG style="border-top:0 solid;border-right:0 solid;border-bottom:0 solid;border-left:0 solid;" src="http://images.quickblogcast.com/1/7/8/8/2/333104-328871/MagicWhiteSauce.jpg?a=77"><BR><BR>Someone once offered me their magic white sauce. It was not what I expected..<BR><BR><IMG style="border-top:0 solid;border-right:0 solid;border-bottom:0 solid;border-left:0 solid;" src="http://images.quickblogcast.com/1/7/8/8/2/333104-328871/FatherServing.jpg?a=33"><BR><BR>"If Father serves at your house, the plates belong in a stack at his place." Father cannot be bothered to get up and serve people. <BR><BR><IMG style="border-top:0 solid;border-right:0 solid;border-bottom:0 solid;border-left:0 solid;" src="http://images.quickblogcast.com/1/7/8/8/2/333104-328871/PineappleDoubleRing.jpg?a=82"><BR><BR>I don't know what to say about this. It's under "salads". It's pineapple, two nuts, and some cherries? So much innuendo... Brain...over...load....<BR><BR><IMG style="border-top:0 solid;border-right:0 solid;border-bottom:0 solid;border-left:0 solid;" src="http://images.quickblogcast.com/1/7/8/8/2/333104-328871/TomatoSandwichSalad.jpg?a=17"><BR><BR>This is a tomato sandwich salad. It's layers of tomato and cottage cheese. And lettuce. Mmm....<BR><BR>Well, that concludes our trip back in time. There was so much more I could've commented on. Like when they tell you that you can make breakfast for your mom, "ask Dad if he'd turn out in time to make a pot of coffee for you." Turn out? There was also apple sauce made from Red Hot's and Perky cooky (sic) faces made from vanilla wafers. So many ways to scare away any guests who come to your house for dinner!<BR> <BR>Now I have to go. It's Doughnut Sundae time!! It's going on my shopping list right after Vienna Sausage...</FONT>Melanie Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04552401861776930787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8673668836003846720.post-39750343084411639562014-02-05T21:41:00.000-05:002014-05-12T08:46:15.754-04:00What Was I Thinking? Summer Lovin' Edition<FONT style="font-size:14px;" face="Arial"><FONT style="font-size:14px;"></FONT><FONT style="font-size:14px;"></FONT>Growing up in the 80's, tanning was still the thing you did in the summer. As soon as the temps went up, the girls got out the Coppertone oil, grabbed their bathing suits and laid out in their chaise lounges in the backyard. Sunscreen was for wusses! <BR><BR>I was so pale I could get mistaken for paper, but despite that, I always thought every summer was the summer I was going to get that elusive tan. I went after it like 'squach hunters go after Sasquatch...only with less feces in the woods. I was determined every summer was the one!<BR><BR>Tans were so important that I dreaded going to school during summer and shorts season more than any other season of the year. Even though we had summer breaks, you still had a little overlap where you had no choice but to wear shorts or die of heat exhaustion. Air conditioning back then wasn't what it is now. It was non-existent in buses. Then there was gym and recess...well, you get the point.<BR><BR>Over the years, I had my fair share of teasing and bullying, but one of the insults that sticks in my head was a boy who called me, "Albino." Now in restrospect it seems kind of tame, but for some reason it was so insulting at the time, I've never forgotten it. <BR><BR>Wanting a tan made me do very strange things. My mom brought over some more pictures the other day and I found this one:<BR><BR><IMG style="border-top:0 solid;border-right:0 solid;border-bottom:0 solid;border-left:0 solid;" src="http://images.quickblogcast.com/1/7/8/8/2/333104-328871/003640x475.jpg?a=94"><BR><BR>As soon as I found this picture, I groaned at my past self, "Oh Dear God, why?"<BR><BR>I remember this picture and this day. It was at a family cookout (which is why my late uncle is letting my cousins out of our little kid prison--er, I mean our tent trailer that we opened up in the middle of our backyard...because that's how we rolled back in the day) and I wanted my face to get tanned. So instead of waiting for a time when I was alone and nobody could witness my psycho sun worshiping, I did it in front of everyone. And I can't say I did it for a short period of time. This went on for awhile! Way too long. <BR><BR>As you can tell by my pale, freckled (albino) face, it was pretty much a waste of time. But thanks to the magic of photography the moment has been framed forever...and ever. <BR><BR>Maybe I can tell people I was doing yoga... It's the sitting down warrior pose! Yes, that's it....</FONT>Melanie Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04552401861776930787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8673668836003846720.post-85520293527269678742014-02-03T13:56:00.000-05:002014-05-12T08:46:15.763-04:00Look at this Photograph...<FONT style="font-size:14px;" face="Arial">Do you remember a time before digital cameras when whatever pictures you took was the ones you were stuck with? Back then there was no do-overs. You couldn't screen your pictures before posting them online (what was online?) or printing them out. In those days, you would fill a roll of film with pictures and when you were done, you take it to the drugstore or grocery store to be developed. A week or so later (or the next day when they started 24 hour developing) you would pick them up. The pictures you imagined were totally awesome would be... Not awesome. <BR><BR>The other day when I was looking for blog ideas, I found pictures of a day back in the 90's that I spent with my friend Susie at the mall. It just reminded me how very un-photogenic I truly am. She looked like a model in the pictures and I looked like.. err... Well, I'll show you.<BR><BR>Here she is eating a French fry: <BR><BR><IMG style="border-top:0 solid;border-right:0 solid;border-bottom:0 solid;border-left:0 solid;" src="http://images.quickblogcast.com/1/7/8/8/2/333104-328871/005640x4611.jpg?a=83"><BR><BR><FONT face="Arial">She looks beautiful. Perfect lipstick, great smile! There's even a Cinnabon behind her with the sign: "Served Oven Hot." She really was oven hot!<BR><BR>There there's me:<BR><BR><IMG style="border-top:0 solid;border-right:0 solid;border-bottom:0 solid;border-left:0 solid;" src="http://images.quickblogcast.com/1/7/8/8/2/333104-328871/004640x4591.jpg?a=58"><BR><BR>Do not adjust your monitors. I am that pale! Like Susie, I'm eating, but instead of looking sexy, I look like a hamster hoarding food in her cheeks. My bangs are awful because it was the 90's and they weren't happy about it. There's an Arby's behind me and as tasty as their food is, it just reminds people of hot beef. Not exactly a Cinnabon!<BR><BR>Here's another picture of Susie:<BR><BR><IMG style="border-top:0 solid;border-right:0 solid;border-bottom:0 solid;border-left:0 solid;" src="http://images.quickblogcast.com/1/7/8/8/2/333104-328871/001640x475.jpg?a=88"><BR><BR>Even though these pictures are posed, she looks natural. Like, oopsie, I dropped something! Let me flip my hair and pick it up! Ooo, look at my long golden locks flowing behind my back! <BR><BR>Me again:<BR><BR><IMG style="border-top:0 solid;border-right:0 solid;border-bottom:0 solid;border-left:0 solid;" src="http://images.quickblogcast.com/1/7/8/8/2/333104-328871/002640x472.jpg?a=21"><BR><BR>I'm sitting by a mall fountain thinking pensively to myself. A very natural pose. Everyone has deep thoughts in a crowded mall eatery, right? What's up with the woman wearing a red coat with a blue shirt underneath? Thanks for adding to the absurdity of the picture! Then there's the little girl photobombing me. I appreciate her attempt to add some cuteness to this picture, but nothing is going to help it at this point. Especially when there's someone wearing a Cosby sweater in the background. My bangs are getting angrier. They are trying as hard as they can to band together and blind me in one eye. <BR><BR>One more picture:<BR><BR><IMG style="border-top:0 solid;border-right:0 solid;border-bottom:0 solid;border-left:0 solid;" src="http://images.quickblogcast.com/1/7/8/8/2/333104-328871/003640x473.jpg?a=28"><BR>Susie still looks good, her hair over one shoulder, lipstick still perfect. She has the frilly shirt with big sweater that just somehow works. Then you look at me... My eyes are closed, my pants are way too tight, my bangs have somehow spread out in an attempt to blind me in both eyes and what's with my jacket? (I can't even talk about the paisley shirt) I'm not sure why we posed in front of the Aladdin display, but that magic lamp is ejaculating all over me! <BR><BR>And what is a Love Field?? Whatever is it, you have to be over 13 to go there! <BR><BR>This is why I hide whenever someone pulls out a camera. I know what's going to happen. Everyone else is going to look like a contestant for America's Next Top Model and I will look like something they created on Face Off!<BR><BR>But this is me. It's how I am. it's not like I don't have other talents. Like storing food in my cheeks for winter! Does anyone want some fruit cake from Christmas?<BR><BR>Until next time... Enjoy the Nickelback earworm from my title! You are welcome...</FONT></FONT>Melanie Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04552401861776930787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8673668836003846720.post-38825712439077018362014-02-02T10:12:00.000-05:002014-05-12T08:46:15.802-04:00Muscat Love<FONT style="font-size:14px;" face="arial"><FONT style="font-size:14px;"></FONT>Back around Christmas, my friends put a bottle of wine in my Christmas Care package. I opened it up on Christmas day and it was really good. Since then I've looked everywhere--even on the website listed on the bottle and haven't found anymore bottles of the wine. I haven't totally given up, but it's time to move on. I was telling Katie about it and she said I should try a different Moscato every week or month and blog about it. <BR><BR>That's why I've decided to do a Moscato experiment! For science of course. <BR><BR>According to Urban Dictionary:<BR><BR><EM>Moscato is a sweet slightly sparkling wine made from muscat grapes made popular by rappers such as kanye west.</EM> (sic)<BR><BR>See! I'm as cool as Kanye West! I always knew I was!<BR><BR>Since I'm unemployed, my first experiment is with a cheap wine that I heard good things about. From Kanye and Kim of course.<BR><BR>It's Barefoot Wine's, Moscato.<BR><BR><IMG style="border-top:0 solid;border-right:0 solid;border-bottom:0 solid;border-left:0 solid;" alt="" src="http://images.quickblogcast.com/1/7/8/8/2/333104-328871/BarefootWine.jpg?a=40"><BR><BR>It's also 10% off at the grocery store so score! Since I still don't have any wine glasses, I buy some super fancy cups at the store as well.<BR><BR><IMG style="border-top:0 solid;border-right:0 solid;border-bottom:0 solid;border-left:0 solid;" alt="" src="http://images.quickblogcast.com/1/7/8/8/2/333104-328871/DesignerCups.jpg?a=89"><BR><BR>That's right! I do things right! Just like Kanye! "ULTRA" Designer cups!<BR><BR>I have my wine. I have my pizza. Now it's time to drink! I open up a Word document and go to work. Last night was also the night for me to do my Melly's Saturday Night Story Snark on Facebook, so that's what I'm talking about when I say snarking. (If you want to join the group, click on this link and ask to join: <A href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/357546877655252/">https://www.facebook.com/groups/357546877655252/</A>)<BR><BR>So here it is. My scientific results of the Moscato experiment:<BR><BR>****<BR><BR><br/><P style="margin:0 0 10pt;"><FONT face="Calibri">Experiment: Barefoot Moscato</FONT></P><br/><P style="margin:0 0 10pt;"><FONT face="Calibri">8:00. I pour the wine into my fancy plastic cup. Half a bottle of wine fills up the cup. Awesome! Redneck style is good. The wine is a bit bubbly and sweet, but is too warm. I should've refrigerated it more. <BR><BR><IMG style="border-top:0 solid;border-right:0 solid;border-bottom:0 solid;border-left:0 solid;" src="http://images.quickblogcast.com/1/7/8/8/2/333104-328871/FancyCup.jpg?a=53"><BR><BR></FONT></P><br/><P style="margin:0 0 10pt;"><FONT face="Calibri">I decide to put it back in the refrigerator when Smoke tells me to put it in the freezer instead.</FONT></P><br/><P style="margin:0 0 10pt;"><FONT face="Calibri">Me: "The bottle or the glass?"</FONT></P><br/><P style="margin:0 0 10pt;"><FONT face="Calibri">Him: "Both."</FONT></P><br/><P style="margin:0 0 10pt;"><FONT face="Calibri">I go to put it in and it's hard to find a place amongst the Lean Cuisine's and Hot Pockets, but I manage. Score!</FONT></P><br/><P style="margin:0 0 10pt;"><FONT face="Calibri">8:21: I take out the cup. It's a bit chilled and ready for drinking. I have to get my snarking on and it's time to kick it up a notch. A sign of a good wine is when you say things like, kick it up a notch.</FONT></P><br/><P style="margin:0 0 10pt;"><FONT face="Calibri">8:35: Took the bottle out and poured some more. The colder it gets, the better it gets, but there's still a little aftertaste to it. Maybe I need a palate cleanser like a cake. Good thing I bought a Creme-filled Angel Cake! <BR><BR><IMG style="border-top:0 solid;border-right:0 solid;border-bottom:0 solid;border-left:0 solid;" src="http://images.quickblogcast.com/1/7/8/8/2/333104-328871/AngelCake.jpg?a=23"><BR></FONT></P><br/><P style="margin:0 0 10pt;"><FONT face="Calibri"><BR>Oh yes. Much better! I'm supposed to be on my Facebook snark page but the internet hates me. Why??</FONT></P><br/><P style="margin:0 0 10pt;"><FONT face="Calibri">The Big Bang Theory is funny on a regular day, but when you are buzzing, it's enough to make you pee your pants.</FONT></P><br/><P style="margin:0 0 10pt;"><FONT face="Calibri">8:42: Texting Katie is a lot harder when you are starting to buzz.</FONT></P><br/><P style="margin:0 0 10pt;"><FONT face="Calibri">8:46: Just took a couple selfie's while waiting for my internet to decide what it's going to do.<BR><BR><IMG style="border-top:0 solid;border-right:0 solid;border-bottom:0 solid;border-left:0 solid;" src="http://images.quickblogcast.com/1/7/8/8/2/333104-328871/WineSelfie2.jpg?a=72"><IMG style="border-top:0 solid;border-right:0 solid;border-bottom:0 solid;border-left:0 solid;" src="http://images.quickblogcast.com/1/7/8/8/2/333104-328871/WineSelfie.jpg?a=47"><BR><BR></FONT></P><br/><P style="margin:0 0 10pt;"><FONT face="Calibri">8:56: I finally got some snarking in but the buzz is quickly wearing off. Must drink faster! Just like all the fancy wine tasters do.</FONT></P><br/><P style="margin:0 0 10pt;"><FONT face="Calibri">9:00: Still snarking but keep getting distracted by Jimmy Fallon's special. Already seen it but I can't get enough of Jimmy. that man is FINE.</FONT></P><br/><P style="margin:0 0 10pt;"><FONT face="Calibri">10:29: I've almost drank all of the wine and I'm getting sleepy. I'm still snarking on the Facebook page, but I'm not sure if anybody is still out in Facebook land. I'm still yawning a bit.</FONT></P><br/><P style="margin:0 0 10pt;"><FONT face="Calibri">I do have to say that this wine isn't quite as sweet as the other Villa Alena. And not as fizzy. But it's good!</FONT></P><br/><P style="margin:0 0 10pt;"><FONT face="Calibri">11:02. I'm so sleepy but I don't want to go to sleep already. I want to keep snarking. I don't want to waste this wine buzz! I'm going to drink some more wine and find my second wind! Once in awhile I want trade my sleepiness with someone who has insomnia. </FONT></P><br/><P style="margin:0 0 10pt;"><FONT face="Calibri">11:28: All I want to do is sleep, but I keep denying myself. Why? </FONT></P><br/><P style="margin:0 0 10pt;"><FONT face="Calibri">Ok. My overall opinion is that it's sweet and smooth, but still has a bit of a bite. It wasn't as effervesant as the last wine I had, but I wouldn't say no to more.</FONT></P><br/><P style="margin:0 0 10pt;"><FONT face="Calibri">I can't wait to try my next!</FONT></P><BR>****<BR><BR>Overall I'd say that the wine was good, but not as good as the one before. On a Buzz scale, I'd give it 7 out of 10. I am happy to say that I didn't drink the entire bottle, but I came close!<BR><BR>Onto my next wine. If anyone knows a good Moscato, please recommend it! I'll put it on the list.<BR><BR>Until next time... Kick it up a notch!<BR></FONT>Melanie Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04552401861776930787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8673668836003846720.post-23621928798793497002014-02-01T13:23:00.000-05:002014-05-12T08:46:15.811-04:00Love in an Elevator<FONT style="font-size:14px;" face="Arial">Job Agencies Part III<BR><BR>It's a good thing I didn't go to more than three job agencies since I don't know Roman Numerals past three. <BR><BR>Yesterday I had an appointment with the local agency only 15 minutes away from my house so I didn't have to get ready as early. I did pick a different shirt and a different necklace this time. Mix it up a little!<BR><BR>The only part I worried about was parking. It's located in the old part of town, which means limited parking options. I haven't parallel parked since my driving test back in 1991. To say I'm rusty is an understatement. So I leave about 45 minutes early.<BR><BR>I'm there in 15 minutes, which also gets me to the office a half an hour early. That is way too early for me! But that's okay since I still need to find the office. First: Parking.<BR><BR>Even though parking is free, there are time limits. On the street it's an hour and on some side streets, 30 minutes. I'm already 30 minutes early and I have no idea how long it will take so I find a three hour parking lot and park there. Of course I still need to walk and find the place.<BR><BR>Luckily, it's a mild day (like 45 degrees...a heatwave!) so I'm not walking around the town freezing my ass off. I hold up my phone and use the "walking" option of my GPS. I follow where it tells me but I can't find it anywhere. I pass a fire station (where I'm paranoid the trucks are going to come screaming out, sirens flashing and run me over) and pass detentions centers, sheriff's offices and all kinds of fun places and then back to where my car is parked. Yikes. I've now walked in a circle. Great. I can even get lost walking!<BR><BR>I try again. I feel like the people smoking on the corner have already seen me once before and are now laughing at me. Where is Andy Griffith when you need him? I would even take Barney at this point. I look at my phone and start walking again. If I had a map, I could get in it, but I only have a phone and stepping on it might break it. I finally decide maybe I need to cross a road. Yes, now I'm thinking outside the box! Go me!<BR><BR>I cross the road and start paying attention to the addresses since my GPS swears I'm right there. There's just no signs with the agencies name on it. I finally find the correct street address but the only signs are for a credit counseling service and a campaign headquarters. Since I'm desperate at this point (yet still early), I open the door. It creaks open to this huge space that leads to a tall staircase and I realize it's an old historical building that was probably once a spacious townhouse, but is now offices. The suite number I need starts with a three, so I have to walk up three stories. In one day, I go from elevator's to old creaking staircases. The railings are short because apparently people used to be shorter and it takes getting used to.<BR><BR>After all the walking I did around town and after climbing up three sets of steps, I'm out of breath by the time I find the office. At least I got a workout in! The office is small, just the one desk and there's a lady sitting there. She stands up and introduces herself then closes the door, putting a "do not disturb" sign on it. <BR><BR>We exchange small talk--I amuse her with stories of how lost I got (always good times), and then she hands me a folder of paperwork to fill out. She goes back to her desk and I tackle the application. I can't help but think of my last two interviews. The first one had everything on a computer and the second had me fill out an application at home and didn't even take it. This one is all by hand, which is fine, because the office is quiet and cozy and l feel less stress than I did at any of the other places.<BR><BR>Finally the paperwork is done and she comes over to my table and starts talking. It's a full fledged interview, where she asks my strengths and weaknesses, although she doesn't ask me where I see myself in five years, because that's always a hard question for me. I don't see myself past 2:00 this afternoon! (Other than wine. I will be drinking wine!)<BR><BR>After the initial interview is over, she starts talking to me about job options. She's honest about the limited opportunities in this small town. Too many people wanting to work locally and not enough jobs to go around. I knew that walking in so I'm not discouraged. Then she starts giving me job hunting advice. She'd been out of work for three months before her current job and knows what it's like.<BR> <BR>It's weird because I suddenly feel like she really sees me as a person and not just a potential employee. She sees a person who got laid off from a job and feels a little insecure and down. Her advice is so good, I start writing it down because even though some of it I'd read about, it was different hearing it from someone who had actual experience. Her sympathy makes me feel emotional for the first time since starting this tour of agencies. Maybe it's part of her job, but I don't think so. Her job is to place me for her clients and not to help me find a job with another company.<BR><BR>She had one opening to run by me but immediately I know it's not for me. The first four lines dealt with talking to people on the phone and selling them stuff and telephones are my kryptonite. You know how they say that when looking at a food label the first three ingredients shows what the product contains the most of? It's true of jobs too. The first three or four things are what you'll be doing the most. I tell her I will consider it because I can't say no, but even if I could, I do like to think about things first anyway. I'm a thinker. I like to pose like the thinker too.<BR><BR>As I'm leaving she tells me there's an elevator I can use, but honestly, I'm kind of scared the elevator is almost as old as the building. Once a week on an elevator is enough! I think Aerosmith exaggerated the appeal of elevators. <BR><BR>As I make my way down the steps, there are women taking a tour and for the first time I see there are plaques on the wall showing the history of the building. I wish I can stop and read them but the ladies are there and I don't feel like talking anymore. I can only talk so many hours a day. I'm tired. (See! This is why a sales job would never work for me).<BR><BR>On the way home I consider just interviewing with that job anyway, but decide not to. I've done telephone work a few times in my 20's, and I never got comfortable with it, no matter how long I tried it. I don't think that's changed in my late 30's. (Shut up! I know I'll be 40 in 13 days, but I'm stretching out my late 30's as long as I can!)<BR><BR>I email her thanking her for talking to me and letting her know how much I enjoyed meeting her and how I didn't think I would represent them very well if I interviewed for that job. She thanked me for getting back to her and said she'd consider me for other opportunities.<BR><BR>After all I went though this week, I still don't have a job. But all hope is not lost! I did get an email from another company (not an employment agency) altogether. They asked me to send them my resume to be considered for a temporary position. The location really sucks though. It's not the worse place I could work like DC or in an elevator, but it's up there. I'm going to pursue it anyway because the job sounds kind of cool and it's temporary so I'll be able to take other positions if they come up.<BR><BR>That's my employment agency experiences this week. I hope you learned something. Like Melly has a really weird phobia about elevators. And shares way too any details.<BR><BR>Until next time! </FONT>Melanie Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04552401861776930787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8673668836003846720.post-38218033847944254982014-01-31T20:21:00.000-05:002014-05-12T08:46:15.850-04:00Started From the Bottom<FONT size="+0"><FONT style="font-size:14px;" face="Arial"><FONT style="font-size:14px;"></FONT><FONT style="font-size:14px;"></FONT><FONT style="font-size:14px;"></FONT><FONT style="font-size:14px;"></FONT>Job Agencies Part II<BR><BR>Yesterday was my appointment with the employment agency not far from my last job. It's not my ideal location, but at this point I'm open to anything. This is also the flaky agency that forgot to send me a confirmation for my last appointment. My opinion wasn't changed much after my visit.<BR><BR>But first I have to get ready again. Getting ready to go places now is an ordeal that starts early. Gone are the days when I could get ready to go to work on autopilot. Now I have to dig out an iron to iron my pants (using a towel on the floor... Ironing board, what's that?). I pick a purple shirt to wear under my suit jacket and put on my jewelry. I put on the hooker boots and off I go. I have to leave an hour and a half early to guarantee I'll be there on time. This time I leave Scooter and Smoke home.<BR><BR>I do take my Drake CD with me. That's the one thing about driving alone. You can play your own music! Drake is my inspiration. Started from the bottom, now I'm here! Driving to a job agency, now I'm here! <BR><BR>When Drake and I get there, I have to park in a parking garage, and it's still cold so there's a lot of walking and freezing. I'm so spoiled! I text Katie the floor of garage I'm parked in so I don't have a Seinfeld situation where I lose my car and my fish dies. You never know! They might provide a free fish!<BR><BR>It's been a long time since I've been near an actual office building. The last building I worked in was a warehouse with office space. That still doesn't excuse me acting like a country pumpkin looking at the elevators like crazy contraptions that take you up in the air. Golly! I manage to get the flying boxes to take me up to the 4th floor, where the company is located.<BR><BR>When I walk in there's nobody at the front desk, but there is a sign-in sheet. I start signing my name when a woman walks up and says, "Are you here to meet with someone?"<BR><BR>"No, I just wandered off the street and found this company randomly," is what I want to say. What I do say is, "Yes, I'm here to see Blah, Blah."<BR><BR>"Ok, have a seat and I'll let her know you're here."<BR><BR>I sit down and notice that the color scheme seems to be orange. Not the orange of the 70's, (which would've been awesome), but more of a burnt orange. Kind of a Denver Bronco's orange. (Did you like that? Topical! Five years later if I read this, I'll have no idea what it means. Dear Future Melly, the Denver Bronco's are playing the Seattle Seahawks in the Super Bowl. A Super Bowl is a football game between.... Wait, that will probably still make sense). <BR><BR>Orange is everywhere. It's mixed into a gigantic dried flower arrangement on the table in front of me. It's in the material of the chair I'm sitting in which have a tiny clouded glass plate welded to the right arm rest. You could use it to write on a Post-It. Or eat a cracker. <BR><BR>The lady comes back and lets me know that Blah, Blah is finishing up something and will be with me in a minute. After she leaves at least four other people ask me if I'm being helped. A receptionist never shows up. A group of employees starts congregating around holding pads of paper, obviously going to a meeting. It's crazy how out of touch I already feel with office life. It wasn't that long ago I was holding a pad of paper on a way to a meeting!<BR><BR>Finally, Blah, Blah comes back and introduces herself and leads me to a conference room. She seems to have a hard time turning on the light. She stands there waving her arms until they come on, explaining, "I never use this room." That leads me to believe she doesn't have a lot of clients or I'm not good enough for the VIP conference room. "Don't let the blonde too far into the building. She doesn't know how to work a elevator."<BR><BR>The conference room table is small and kind of cracked and old looking. It makes me think of my last office when it was new and we weren't allowed to even bring in drinks to the new conference room tables. Now it makes sense to me.<BR><BR>She starts the normal interview questions, asking about what kind of work I do and about my experience. The location I want to work. She apologizes for not sending me the confirmation email and explains that I need to leave a message to contact her because her phone "doesn't show missed calls."<BR><BR>O...k. Finally, she lets me know I'm going to be meeting with another one of her colleages who will see if she has any openings for me. She leaves me alone. That's when I get that feeling...you know the one. When you think something is on your nose. I start to panic until I remember that the other day my mother gave me something and I never took it out of my coat pocket...<BR><BR><IMG style="border-top:0 solid;border-right:0 solid;border-bottom:0 solid;border-left:0 solid;" src="http://images.quickblogcast.com/1/7/8/8/2/333104-328871/CatMirror.jpg?a=10"><BR><BR>Yes, that's a foldable cat mirror! For once my crazy cat lady tendencies worked in my favor! I take it out and check that everything is ok just before she walks back in.<BR><BR>"Boo, Boo got pulled into a meeting, so you won't be meeting her today." For a minute I'm flabbergasted. It's weird because you'd think that she would be pulled out of a meeting for someone that might make them money. But maybe I'm misunderstanding employment agencies. <BR><BR>She hands me a business card. "I ran out of business cards, so I wrote my information on this."<BR><BR>And readers, I shit you not, she had used someone else's business card and crossed out their information and wrote her own. Professional, no? I begin to wonder if maybe she'd given me a fake number. She shakes my hand and then kind of flitters out of the room leaving me to wander out on my own. I pass by her talking to the receptionist that has now magically returned. I've been dismissed.<BR><BR>I leave the office and go back down the magic boxes <FONT face="Arial">(first finding a public restroom in the hallway...yes, so sad)</FONT>. I didn't need the text because I actually did remember where I parked. <BR><BR>It really was a surreal experience. She didn't take the job application that they had me fill out in the email. She didn't take any of my information, which leads me to wonder if they even wanted me there. Maybe they will find me a job, but it mostly felt like a waste of time and gas. I started from the bottom and I'm still there... I still haven't tried the number yet. I'm kind of scared too. It might end up being a deli. (Friends reference of course).<BR><BR>I went to another employment agency today that was much better, but this story took so long, I'll save it until tomorrow. <BR><BR>To be continued...</FONT></FONT>Melanie Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04552401861776930787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8673668836003846720.post-66123913077208472862014-01-29T08:51:00.000-05:002014-05-12T08:46:15.860-04:00Crash Test Dummy<FONT style="font-size:14px;" face="Arial"><FONT style="font-size:14px;"></FONT>Hello! I apologize for not posting on Monday. I loaned out my laptop and was working on a cross stitch project I really wanted to finish.<BR><BR>So Monday was the interview with the first job agency. Since this was in an area I wasn't familiar with, I invited Smoke along for a ride. He decided we should bring Scooter too. <BR><BR>But first I had to get ready. Since it was a job agency I decided to wear a suit jacket and pants (instead of the skirt--it's too cold for a skirt!). I also decided to pull out my hooker boots. Ok, they aren't really hooker boots, but they do have the zipper on the side like Julia's in Pretty Women. They just aren't as tall. They do have heels. They are a couple years old, but make me feel confident. <BR><BR>After we leave, I quickly find out that having a dog with light colored fur, who seems to shed a lot more than a short haired dog should, is a problem when you are wearing a black suit jacket. I'm constantly brushing off my sleeve because for some reason he enjoys leaning against me. I'm pretty sure it's on purpose.<BR><BR>The drive down there is a long, about an hour, but it's a straight shot. Compared to my last commute which was going towards the city (the city being DC) and along many different highways and back ways, this drive seems so easy! Why hadn't I thought of this area before?<BR><BR>We find the agency with about 10 minutes to spare. I'd put my bag of emergency supplies in the back, so that's where my lint roller is. I open up the trunk and Scooter pops out and tries to jump on me. "Mommy, please don't leave me! Take me to your interview!"<BR><BR>I'm pushing him off because he's just defeating the purpose of the lint roller while at the same time Smoke is pulling him back in. There are windows facing the parking lot and in the back of my mind I can just see all of these people looking out saying, "This women can't even go anywhere without her dog! Does she think she's Paris Hilton?"<BR><BR>I stuff Scooter back in the car and do the best I can with the lint roller. Then I take a deep breath and go into the agency.<BR><BR>I give the lady at the desk my name and she has me sit down in the reception area. There are windows facing the parking lot and I can see Scooter in the back of the car staring down the building I'm in. For a minute I wonder if he can somehow see me from that distance. He's a spooky dog! <BR><BR>The lady has me go back to a computer and fill out a survey. This survey has questions like, "When was the last time you did Meth?" Uh... Did these people watch Breaking Bad too much? I type, "I'm doing it right now." Ha! Not really. There are also questions about cocaine, pot, prescription drugs and alcohol. They keep asking you if you would steal from the company. The way they phrase the questions seem kind of tricky at times so you really have to read them. Since I'm pretty clean (unless you count coffee and life), I finish the survey in no time.<BR><BR>She tells me to sit back in the waiting area and I ask her where the restroom is (see list about turning 40). As she's leading me there, I'm like, "I'm sorry. I've been driving a while." A voice in my head is like, "Are you apologizing for needing the restroom? And stop offering up more information than people need!" (Also on list of signs your turning 40). <BR><BR>Finally, I'm led back to my agent. Is that what you call them? The lady who is supposed to help me get a job. We start talking and I keep mentioning how old I am, how things were different back when I found a job before. Again, the voice is like, "Don't tell people you are old! Jeez. Nobody cares, geezer! So what if you walked to your job up-hills both ways!" <BR><BR>She's super nice (which I'm pretty sure is part of the job, but helps put me at ease) and writes down the kind of jobs I want and how much I want to make. <BR><BR>After we are done she tells me I need to fill out more forms and then I should do some testing. I hate to make Smoke and Scooter wait longer for me, but I want to do the testing and I don't want to put it off. I want work!<BR><BR>I fill out all the paperwork, which is mostly benefit information and then the front desk lady sets up the testing. Well, actually, the first computer she sets me up at doesn't work and I have to go back up and get her and I feel like I'm starting to annoy her at this point. I'm pretty sure she wrote in my file, "Annoying. Takes creepy dog with her everywhere. Talks about her bathroom habits." <BR><BR>The problem with testing on programs like Word, Excel and Outlook, is that even if you worked on it every day for at least 13 years (which I did), it doesn't mean used every single feature of it. Some you just didn't need. Plus they've upgraded so much, things you used to know how to do have changed. They do give you a lot of chances to go back if you did it wrong, but if you can't do it after so many tries, you just don't know. I don't think I did bad on those, but I'm sure I could've done better. <BR><BR>My words per minute is 68. It's 70 before mistakes. I don't know if it's that good or not. Since all I've been typing for the last six months are job applications, cover letters and blog entries, it seems pretty good to me.<BR><BR>Another problem with the testing is that it's getting later in the day and the employment office is getting louder. They are sending out tax forms to their employees and with stamp prices going up it's going to cost them over a thousand dollars to send them out. I hear about this and many other discussions while I'm trying to concentrate. I feel like they should move the computers a little further away from the front desk, especially when someone is taking a test. <BR><BR>Finally everything is done and I take my folder and free pen and say goodbye to front desk lady (hoping my cheerful disposition will make her forget my annoying habits) and go out to Smoke and Scooter still waiting in the parking lot.<BR><BR>Now I just wait for a job. Judging by how busy the office is it's not going to be as fast as I hoped. They have a lot of employees. I told her I would even take short term assignments if they came up, but so far my phone is quiet. (I know...it's only been two days. But still!)<BR><BR>Yesterday I was supposed to go back to that second employment agency, but I never got a confirmation email. I called the number that called me and left a message on the voicemail. Still no response. Then around two (an hour after I was supposed to be there), I get an email apologizing for not sending me a confirmation and asking when I wanted to reschedule. <BR><BR>I'm not sure about this agency. It doesn't seem like it's going to be very helpful if they can't even get back to you in a timely manner. I will probably go because I have to look into every opportunity, but I'm even less hopeful. It's closer to the city too, which I was trying to avoid.<BR><BR>After all this I'm not quite as optimistic as I was at the beginning of the week, but I haven't given up hope. At least I have other people helping me find work now! Every step is a good step. Take it a day at a time. That's how I look at life. Today I'm breathing. I have coffee. I have my spooky dog and evil cats and I just watched a reunion of the guys from Full House on GMA. Life is good!<BR><BR>Thanks for reading this long post and coming along for the ride! And thankful for the good luck wishes here and on Facebook. Having a place to talk about it helps me get through it!</FONT>Melanie Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04552401861776930787noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8673668836003846720.post-36975946174908775992014-01-26T22:15:00.000-05:002014-05-12T08:46:15.899-04:00Redneck Clouds<FONT style="font-size:14px;" face="Arial">I've had a blog in mind that I wanted to do. I even scanned in the pictures. But all I keep thinking about is my interviews this week. In addition to the two employment agencies (one that I still don't know what it's called or where it's at), I also heard back from the local employment agency who contacted me last time. They had another job they wanted to submit my resume too. <BR> <BR>Things are happening! But's also making me a nervous wreck. What's exactly is going to happen? Am I going to have a job soon? Do I still know how to work? Am I going to look stupid? What do I wear? Chicken or egg? <BR><BR>It's weird to go back to being in a professional mode after about seven months, but it's time to go back in the world. It's time to wear shoes all the time. Maybe even a bra. You never know. I might find a job that's back in the 70's! With Jack Tripper and Chrissy. Janet. <BR><BR>I'm glad my appointment isn't until 2:30 tomorrow, because I feel like I need all the time I can get to prepare. Pretend like I'm a normal human being. Well, as normal as I can be. Figure out how to walk on heels again.<BR><BR>And since I always like to include a picture, I was at Big Lots today with Smoke when I saw him motioning me over. When I walked over he was like, "Look at this chair."<BR><BR><IMG style="border-top:0 solid;border-right:0 solid;border-bottom:0 solid;border-left:0 solid;" src="http://images.quickblogcast.com/1/7/8/8/2/333104-328871/chair9.jpg?a=64"><BR><BR>Me: "Yikes. It's camouflage."<BR><BR>Him: "Sit in it. It's really comfortable."<BR><BR>I sit down and kind of sink in like I was on a redneck cloud. "Yes, it is."<BR><BR>"When we get money, I want to get it."<BR><BR>Me: "Wait, for real? Just because it's comfortable that doesn't make it right!"<BR><BR>You might be a redneck if... Screw it. We are rednecks! That chair was damn comfortable though. Of course there were other chairs that we could sit on and be visible in but that's beside the point.<BR><BR>Wish me luck tomorrow! </FONT>Melanie Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04552401861776930787noreply@blogger.com0