The day my shoes thought they got the better of me

Yesterday was one of those days where I woke up on time, had my freshly dry cleaned work clothes ready, lunch packed, and even had time to do my hair before running out the door to get to work by 8. By all accounts a miracle in itself! Really productive day at work full of meetings, projects, getting clients and coworkers taken care of. Even made tons of progress on this recent project. Seriously felt like one of those days where everything goes right.

Wrong.

I jumped in my car after work on my way to a dinner date, kicked off my heels because I drive barefoot (who doesn't) and realized... in my morning rush... I had grabbed 2 different shoes. That's right... grabbed the left of my black stiletto and the right of my black platform wedge. umm how the hell??? I guess they're both black, same height, same toe, and both reside in my very dark closet just waiting for the day that I'll make that mistake and the older pair will get even with me for forgetting them in my car for 2 months and buying a newer, apparently way too similar pair. Karma baby.

So there I was on the way to my date, with 2 mismatched shoes and with the only other pair being flats which clearly wouldn't work at this point considering the length of my pants. Curse my shortness again! I managed to get through dinner, hoping he wouldn't notice and ask if I normally wear 2 different shoes because clearly guys have only 2 pairs of shoes in their closet, and maybe even a working closet light because they can FIX anything, and thus... that never happens to them. Well just to be safe, I awkwardly walked behind him to and from dinner and afterwards quickly switched into my jeans and flats w/ no notice of the shoes... hah! wardrobe malfunction averted!

I suppose this is the only time I've ever been grateful for a guy's lack of attention to detail. I mean really, do they honestly think we wake up and roll out of bed with "come and get me" hair and eyes? More like the "lost a fight with my pillow" look to both. Please. Would it kill 'em to notice when I wear plum instead of beige eye shadow. Curly instead of straight hair. New blouse that I got a killer deal on which you'd know if you paid attention to anything other than socks first, then shoes, then loop, swoop, and pull.

Then again, as they say, be careful what you wish for!

Lessons Learned in Corporate America

My 5-year anniversary with my company came a lot quicker than I thought it would. I still feel like I just graduated! I know I've learned a lot of skills in these short years, technical or otherwise. Probably the biggest lesson I'm constantly learning is the fine art of corporate politics. Sometimes it's how to best work with your colleagues and your clients. Sometimes it's swallowing your pride to kiss a little corporate rear *gasp*. Other times it's the "chain of command" to follow so as to not step on the wrong toes.

I still remember my first run-in with corporate politics, 1-month on the job and of all things, on the wording on my business card. 5-years to get a degree in environmental engineering and my first business card stated "Designer, Public Infrastructure". Sounded like a roadway designer or a city planner to me. I asked my boss whether I could get it changed to something a little more descriptive of my role, especially since I was hired into the environmental infrastructure group. I was told it was up to HR who orders business cards, who also gets approval from the VP before submitting the request to corporate. In other words, I could take it up w/ HR who would request a new set of business cards that may or may not get vetoed by the VP on its way up to corporate.

Well this was disconcerting, so I did what my cal poly education taught me to do... walk up and ask why. Not to my boss, or to HR, but to the VP. And so I headed down the hall, ponytail swaying, straight to the corner office and knocked on his door to discuss the fate of my business card with him.

A serious looking man in a suit stared back at me and gently explained to the "newbie" that in our industry the term environmental on a business card usually refers to "bugs and bunnies" and we don't want to give off the wrong idea to potential clients. [I'm sorry? I didnt realize I got a degree in bugs bunny engineering. Deep breath...] I explained that I most sincerely valued my new job, but that I also took a lot of pride in my degree and my department, and that I'm sure the clients would understand that since I'm at the "designer" or "junior" level that surely they won't get the wrong idea about my qualifications. He nodded and said "I'll see what I can do."

2-weeks later a hefty box of business cards with "Designer, Environmental Infrastructure" appeared on my desk. A small victory for me considering I wouldn't get a new set until I passed my PE a few years later at which point I would get to choose my own title. Environmental Engineer. Simple, concise, technical. No warm and fuzzy bugs and bunnies here.

Sometimes it's what they don't teach you in school that is most valuable. My advice is to learn the corporate politics quickly, always act professionally, and look the part even if you lack experience. One of the biggest compliments I've received on this job came from the serious suit's successor who upon 5 minutes of talking with me about my position and my other interests asked me "where did you go to school? wait don't tell me... cal poly." How did he know, i asked? "I could just tell." I was definitely honored that someone of his caliber, and a fellow cal poly grad I assumed, would see in me a fraction of his potential especially when I decided to skip the butt-kissing side of corporate politics and just be myself. That reminds me, most important lesson, don't forget to stay true to yourself in corporate america. Don't worry about what others are doing around you. Just do you... do well... and it'll pay off.

New Years Resolution-ers: I have a bone to pick with you

sweet.

i just realized that this is the time of year where i get to spend 20+ minutes walking around the gym aimlessly waiting for my machine to be freed up by the hundreds of people who have finally decided to dust off their gym memberships. gotta love new years resolution time.

well pardon my backfat, i've been using that machine for the last 3 months. that very one you are breathing all over right now. no i will not go find another. that beast is mine for 30-45 minutes on monday, wednesday, and saturday. cant we just fast forward a month when you won't be here, forcing me to park in the very back of the parking lot heaven forbid i have to walk 50 yards further to my cardio machine. let's just pretend you tried really hard because lord knows I was you in January 2007, 8 and 9.

because you know what, you look fine anyway. im the one with an entire wardrobe in the basement of the clothes that used to fit. that combined with the fact that im too cheap to go buy new slacks when there is a perfectly good pair of 6's waiting patiently for me. and they were $70. and they've already been hemmed to match my shortness. and you don't really intend to get sweaty anyways in your juicy couture pantsuit.

speaking of. now that im on the subject and clearly on a fatroll here. what ever happened to women that sweat? clearly im the only one, that 1 out of 5 on the secret commericals. except i really don't need prescription strength deodorent because i don't really sweat an abnormal amount under there, i just happen to sweat the kind of entire body sweat that makes dry-wear the greatest invention since clear roll-on.

anyway, as i was saying. i'm the one that would otherwise be dripping sweat on that machine you're using. If that grosses you out, im sorry. but i'm in desperately fat-kicking times right now. and this is not my new years resolution. this is week 12 of the higher energy, lower carb, less flabby but still lovable me.

One Crazy Week

My computer decided to go nuts this week and disable all Internet browsers rendering my computer virtually useless while almost cutting me off from the rest of the world. Thank god for my pricey pal - the iPhone - from which I can transfer account funds while I wait in line on Black Friday, gps myself to the nearest starbucks, and post a blog entry while I think about how much it's going to cost me to fix this laptop. But
I have survived 5 hours of thanksgiving cooking and 8 hours of black friday shopping, on 3 hours of sleep. I'm exhausted and drained but hopeful that the future will bring resolution to some if not all of my problems.
In the meantime, I'm spending quality time with myself, catching up on a book, the gym, and sleep. Glorious sleep. An afternoon nap is calling my name. What a great way to finish off a very busy, very crazy week.

Sent from my iPhone

May I Yelp You?

Ever have a friend who is way more hip and in-the-know that yourself that you must consult before trying the new Vietnamese place around the corner? I know, me neither. Well don't worry, Yelp is the solution to finding the best restaurant/dry cleaner/vet in town and I've used it a bajillion times to either consult fellow Sacramentans or gripe about that scary hairdo I just got at that one place in Natomas (eek!) and feel better knowing I will have saved countless others from a future butchering.

I have to say I've never been steered wrong by fellow Yelpers, it's a great resource. AND comes w/ it's own nifty little iPhone App. Though handy, the app doesn't let you post a question/conversation to other yelpers. My most recent question was where to eat late-night in Sacramento. I'm mostly talking weekends, when bars close and you've got the munchies. I posted a question and Voila! tons of users posted way more replies than I was expecting. I summarized everyone's responses along with address and closing times as the last post... just something to give back in appreciation for the site and its users.

And in case you're curious, and live in Sactown... here you go:

http://www.yelp.com/topic/sacramento-late-night-eating-in-sac

Bad Habits

So it was recently brought to my attention that I talk with my mouth full. Like all the time. Why? Obviously it's not intentional, maybe I have plenty to say that just can't wait. Plus I've never claimed to be all that lady-like, which I think is part of my charm.

Among friends, I've been known to belch, cuss, drink beer, talk trash, say that's what he said. Naturally, I play sports but I never say it's just a game, I'm super competitive and you'd better be good if you're on my team even if it's charades or so-help-me-god... Anyway. How have I never noticed this talking w/ mouth full habit before? And I love how my boyfriend just now points this out after 2 years. Thanks babe! Now that I know, do I change it or at least hope I remember to swallow my food first in front of a client? Did my mom forget to correct me for that growing up? I remember the elbows on the table and the wooden spoon just in case we forgot. Hmmm...

Well after 28 years of a bad habit, what do you do? I tell you what. If it's not hurting anyone, offending anyone, and I'm not spitting on you at dinner, then Get.Over.It. We all have little annoying things that people shouldn't do at our age. Plus it's not like I'm blowing my nose on the cloth napkin (although I hear that's ok). Or getting sloshed and puking on the side of your house. Or belching at work. Ever!

So I guess if you have a problem w/ my eating habits, talking habits, drinking habits, or anything else I do of the habitual nature, then please exit stage left and have a nice day! Otherwise, I'll give you a mouthful to complain about... that's what he said.

***Feel free to share your bad habits in the comments! This post is for C. Starr who enables my habits on a weekly basis. Thanks for putting up with me!***

September 11, 2001

I was 20 years old when it happened. It was September and I'd usually be finishing up my summer job and heading back to school on the Central Coast of California. That weekend, however, I was visiting my friend Lauren in Philadelphia with a couple other girlfriends from high school. I had originally planned on flying out on Sunday the 9th, but since my dad worked for the airlines and I had a stand-by ticket, I stayed a couple extra days and intended to fly out around 1:30 on tuesday.

I awoke that morning to Lauren panicking from the front room. She had turned on the TV just as the first plane hit. I sat in her living room as the 2nd plane hit and was completely stunned. The first thing I did after I snapped out of it was pick up the phone to call my parents, but I couldn't. They were travelling to Europe and hadn't landed yet.

We listened to the news as the airplanes were grounded, and knowing it would be a week before I would be able to fly stand-by anywhere let alone to San Francisco, I figured i would have to find another way to get home. Once I finally got a hold of my parents, and we quickly went over the few options I had, we settled on the only available option at the time - taking a Greyhound bus across the country. At that time (or any time), riding the greyhound for 3 days wasn't ideal, but it was the fastest and cheapet ticket off the East Coast, and so I hurried down to the station in downtown Philly and got in line that afternoon.

It was unlike anything I've ever seen. Families, mobs of people, the poor and affluent, filled the greyhound station in a line that wrapped the entire station twice. I boarded the first bus around 6:00 and we left and headed towards Pittsburg. That station was no different than Philly, except it was near where those brave passengers diverted a greater national disaster and crashed the plane destined for the Pentagon. Anxiety gripped this bus's passengers, and everyone sat silent as our nation held its breath. I can't really describe what I experienced, as it was different for everyone on that day. But as we left Pennsylvania, the passengers breathed a little easier the further away from the coast we traveled.

Around the Pittsburg station I discovered (or was discovered by) a very nice older couple who were also travelling to San Francisco. I'll call them the Johnsons, a husband and wife in their late 50s/early 60s. They heard that my parents were out of the country, and that I was travelling alone. Since they had a daughter about my age, they told me they would look out for me, and I thanked them and sat near them on the next bus.

What happened next could only be described as my body's self defense mechanism. In dealing with trauma, sometimes people's minds block things out unconsciously, well mine tells me to go to sleep. And so I slept... for the next 2 days of the 3-day trip. The Johnsons awoke me when it was time to transfer buses, I stood with them in line and once I sat down again, fell immediately asleep. While the other passengers traded stories and got to know each other, I completely checked out. I didn't wake up, in fact, until Cheyenne, Wyoming. The passengers laughed and said "we were wondering if you were ever going to wake up." The last 1100 miles of that trip is a blur. I remember crossing into California, and stopping in the Sacramento greyhound (only a couple miles from where I live today), and finally arriving in San Francisco where I was greeted by my sister and niece, then only a few months old.

It was an emotional goodbye, to the Johnsons. Thinking back on the 3 days they spent with me, they welcomed me into their hearts, protected me from imminent danger (hello... seedy middle america greyhound stations = no place for my petite, very cute butt!), and gave me a glimmer of hope in my anxiety.

We exchanged addresses that day, and I've since sent them a couple of letters, usually on the eve of the 9/11 anniversary. I am forever changed by the events of that tragedy, and because I truly believe they were my guardian angels. Half the reason I wrote them was to be sure they actually existed and I didn't dream it! They wrote back each time, of course, as kind people usually do. I truly can't thank them enough for what they did, and how their kindness still resonates with me today, as does the courage and bravery of those Americans who gave their lives that day and since to protect our freedom.