I went to the gym this morning, not because it's New Year's Day, but because it's Thursday, and Thursday is typically a gym day for me. There were a handful of seemingly non-hungover patrons there as well. Just another Thursday morning gym sesh.

I was snoozing at midnight last night, but was awakened by revelrous popping of, hopefully, fireworks. On my bike ride to the gym, I rode through a hefty dose of confetti in one section of the neighborhood.

2025 - I fed some ducks

Will have to change that for 2026.

Speaking of escaping, one goal I had for 2025 was to "read more". I didn't specify a number or a genre, and I'm happy with how that worked out. My Goodreads wrap tells me I read 25 books. Recognize any?

Magnum and I took a typical Sunday morning bicycle ride this morning. Had to bundle up, temperatures were struggling to get out of the 30's. But it was a sunny, calm breeze ride that included a coffee stop. Win.

This week, I noticed another whiteboard question at the part-time faculty break room: 

Not many responses as yet, so maybe the ink was still wet. I noticed the "Super Pretzels with Cheeseツ" is no longer, but I think it would apply to mid-semester decompress.

So yes, it seems we're halfway through this fall semester. I've got a couple of concerning students who stand a good chance of failing their math courses. No fault of their own, really. They work hard, but just didn't learn enough in high school and were shuffled off to college anyway. A global pandemic didn't do them any favors.

In other horrors, we watched "Children of the Corn" this weekend. I'd never watched it but recall it was considered extremely scary back in its day. We found it not scary at all, but entertaining enough in a nostalgic kind of way. 

A lot has changed in the "extremely scary" genre in the last 40 years. Zombies took over?

We took a family road trip throug Nebraska several years ago. There definitely is a LOT of corn in Nebraska. Where there's no pavement or concrete... there's corn. Watch out for them children.

"Well, I thought I should've used that approach, and got too far into it before I realized I was f*cked"

She was explaining her thought process when she nonchalantly dropped the F-bomb.

Now, I personally speak quite cleanly, but often in my mind, I'm saying all kinds of nasty sh*t. 

I happily welcome the introduction of "the f-word" or its various cousins from tutees, however. It's an indication to me that the tutees are comfortable around me. Yesterday was this particulary student's first F-bomb. It was followed by a couple of others later on, while she maintained her typically cheerful demeanor. It made me happy inside.

In other totally unrelated thoughts, I'm considering getting an Instant Pot. Is it worth it? Would I use it that much?

I certainly don't cook as much as I used to since the nest emptied, but I've heard good things about the ease and versatility of Instant Pots. 

Plus Best Buy is teasing me by sending me random $5 coupons - spit in the ocean for an Instant Pot, but still...

I've cleaned our floors, washed the car, and laundered the winter jackets. Short of sacrificing a virgin, I don't know of other strategies to help bring on some precipitation, so now we wait.

I'm enjoying this taste of spring break, which will come to an end for me Thursday as I'm scheduled to work a shift at the testing center. One of my more dedicated tutees still wants to meet online this afternoon, while the rest of the bunch has opted for the week off. I'm not complaining about the light schedule.

I'm assuming the testing center will be quieter than usual with the students out this week. As such, maybe I'll get a chance to have that talk with Boss about my future employment there. 

My testing schedule now is pretty sparse and inflexible. When Buzz transferred over from a different campus and then Kitty returned from family leave, I took that opportunity to increase my tutoring and decrease the testing. Once the tutoring schedule is set, it's set for the semester.

Now after Star has moved on to a better place, Boss is feeling the void she left. Let's just say that neither Buzz nor Kitty are the most robust of workers. That, along with Blossom's frequent absences, leaves Boss overworked and stressed.

He'd be justified in hiring another part-timer, but with me and my skimpy schedule, can he offer someone else enough hours to make it worth their while? We've had others with skimpy schedules before, again, because of outside obligations. So, I'm pretty sure he'll continue with me if I want to, but I don't want to if it's more of a hindrance than a help, y'know?

Then there's Thor. 

As of now, I'm the only amensui...  emenuens... amensui... scribe on tap for his (lengthy, exhausting...) exams. As much as I'm opposed to there not being a plan B and other easily available scribes, if I jump ship before the semester's end, that would leave Thor and the disability support team scrambling to get someone else. Doable, but unsavory.

Oh well, just ruminating 

Meanwhile, doesn't look like there'll be any rain today. 

Yay for Saturday! Sheesh, this was a busy week. I'm glad to have survived.

The students have all of next week off at the college. Testing is running through Wednesday, but my tutor schedule is happily empty.

Don't get me wrong, I do typically enjoy tutoring. But as can be expected, the students who sign up for tutoring are the ones who struggle, not only with the coursework, but with stress and anxiety in general, and I'm no therapist.

But really, it's kind of an odd mix. Some are older students who haven't been in a classroom for a while, so just need some extra guidance. Then there are the younger ones who were academically abandoned by the pandemic and other "systemic failures" during their high school years. 

It's a bit of an old story here - I'm sure I blogged about it as I went through it. But in a nutshell, my degree is engineering, I was a happy engineer for several years, we had kids and I became a happy mom and former engineer, and I picked up tutoring along the way.

About 10 years ago, I enrolled in a program at the university that was a pathway for people with STEM degrees to become high school math and science teachers. Seemed like all paths led me in that direction, except...

I learned that I have NO desire to teach at a high school. I mean... the education classes I was taking felt lame to me, for lack of a better word. The atmosphere at the schools we observed didn't gel with me. I even took a non-teaching job at a "nice" high school and couldn't stand it more than one semester.

But hey, it's not them, it's me. I know! I do know wonderful teachers who love their jobs and their schools, and more power to 'em. It's just not my bag.

I shared that summary with one of my tutees this week after she asked me about it. She was enticing me to take on a next level class that I currently don't tutor, but she will be taking next semester. 

"Do it, we need you!", she implored. Seems the only tutors for that course are retired instructors who only tutor online, while I'm okay meeting in person.

I'll probably do it. I'm reteaching the subject to myself to slough off the dust by Spring semester. As we talked, she asked if I'd ever want to teach a class at the college. People have asked me that before, and it seems like there's always openings for math teachers. But... ew. I enjoy tutoring. Teaching is a whole 'nother can of worms. It really has very little appeal to me.

Part of that is likely because... I turned a ripe 60 years old this week. *ock, my bones*. Ain't got no time nor patience for BS. Teachers put up with a lot of BS, while tutors show up, wearing halos.

In true old lady form, here's a coupla pics of a cat. Wolfgang's cat Maisey, whom I've visited daily this past week while on food duty.

I'm happy to make it to 60. Let it be known, I have no desire to do 60 more.

It's not that she's incompetent. She just rarely shows up.

I'm speaking of our assistant boss at work, who's been there less than a year. I've blog named her Mango, but realize she should have a different name because I've got a Magnum and a Meego here already... too much, so I'm ejecting the Mango.

Let's call her Blossom. I can't think of one week - besides maybe in her first month at work - when she hasn't called in "sick", or come in late, or "needed" to leave early. She does it so frequently, that we just roll our eyes and carry on in our short-staffed fashion.

But is that the right thing to do? I have no idea what it takes to "can" someone at the college. I know Boss has "talked" to Blossom about her frequent absences. She'll clean up for a while, but then it's back to the no shows.

It's weird. She seemingly gets along with everyone, knows the job well, is not a big partier. But what is she doing?  I do know she enjoys smoking weed on occasion, but don't know how much. Maybe its more than I'd thought? Her boyfriend she lives with seems to be a night owl. But really, I think there's more to it.

It's the way she is so nonchalant about calling off. Like "everybody does it", when in fact, no one else but her, at our workplace anyways.

It would be easy to blame her generation - she's a gen z-er, and fitting the stereotype. But then there's Star, who is wonderfully reliable and disciplined at just one year older than Blossom. It's frustrating because Star was originally interested in the position, but HR determined she didn't have enough prior administrative experience. 

Well, she does now. Can we just put Star into the slot and let Blossom take every day off from now on?

If only. 

Okay, so I have a situation. Yesterday at work, Boss shared that another college staffer - "Trish", who used to work with us in testing - is in a difficult place right now.

He didn't want to elaborate because the person who let him know is Trish's current boss, who said Trish doesn't want to talk about it. But at the same time Trish's boss wants to help Trish out financially.

To clarify - Boss, Trish, Trish's boss, and some of us in testing all know each other pretty well. We might not necessarily hang out that much, but it's more than just work relationships. 

In fact, Trish and I worked together on the hiring committee for hiring the assistant boss for testing. When a candidate asked about the coworker environment, Trish jumped on it saying, "It's more like a family!"

When I first started working there, Trish was another part-timer in testing. She was working on getting her bachelor's degree at that time and had a young daughter and a sort of on-again, off-again "husband". She got her degree, and took a full-time position in a different department where she's been for the last couple of years.

About a year ago, much to our surprise, she told us she was pregnant. Apparently, husband was on-again. Cute baby boy came along last spring.

So here we are at present day. I talked to Trish's boss, who is collecting some money for Trish's daughter, not going to say where it came from. Trish Boss spilled a bit that Trish's husband beat her up? A little?

Anyway, good news - husband is out the door. Bad news, Trish is left as single mom to now two kids, one an infant. Prior to this, she and the husband would provide care to the kids by working opposing shifts. Trish's job allows her to work remotely a couple of days a week.

I don't know what other childcare resources she has, but naturally, she's struggling as this goes beyond finances.

So here's the thing. I've blogged about my involvement in P.E.O. - this organization that helps women with scholarships, loans, blah, blah, to further their education, etc. Here in Colorado, we also have a special fund for temporarily helping women in situations such as Trish's.

I would totally go to bat for Trish as she's the perfect candidate to tap into those funds. BUT, I'm not supposed to know about her situation!

Unfortunately, the fund doesn't allow anonymous sponsorship. All other info is strictly confidential - my P.E.O chapter wouldn't even know about it - but I do need to convey my relationship with Trish and work with her through the application process in order to be considered.

Welp, it's all pretty fresh for Trish right now. I'm hoping she'll eventually open up.

 ... the 21st night of September?

I didn't. Not really. I realized that was last night only this morning when I got a feed in my instagram about a big play from the CU Buffaloes homecoming football game - [Earth, Wind, and Fire] providing the soundtrack. I don't really follow college (or any really) football, but it's where I live, so...

Anyway, happy fall! Flip your mattresses, change out your toothbrush heads!

Work on the screen room continues. We've got walls. Just need a roof, screens, and a couple doors.

This week got busy, and I'm catching up. I mentioned the P.E.O. thing earlier in the week, then the full work schedule, which included my turn on the Saturday rotation yesterday. So today is my 1-day weekend. Magnum and I did continue our car shopping adventures yesterday after work. We've almost got a new machine, not quite in house yet.

I worked with Mango yesterday, and we were talking of the car shopping adventure. I'm contemplating what we'll do with my little Toyota. It's a 2000 Echo that was my mom's. She gifted it to me 10 years ago after she was no longer driving - something that probably should've happened a few years sooner, TBH.

I'm grateful to have had the diminutive car. It has very little "get up and go" - so much I avoid the highway, doesn't do well in snow over an inch or so... off road?  Just. No.

But for putzing around town in good weather, running errands, it's been great. Since I typically commute on my bicycle, the car spends a lot of time in the garage between errand missions. 

All this to say that it's a 24-year-old car that has, honestly, less than 31,000 miles on it. No body damage, but it could probably use a new set of tires - not because the current ones are at all worn down, but because they are 10 years old.

We don't plan to trade it in, and I figured I'd probably sell it to Carmax. I mentioned this to Mango, and also confessed that I feel a little guilty getting rid of Mom's Car.

But Mango provided some good unbiased advice.

"This is a college town, you could probably get a good price for it - students love little beaters that are cheap to keep".

In regards to the guilt: "I dunno. Probably if your mom were to know of it, she'd say something like, 'What? You still have that thing?'"

Come to think of it, I could totally see/hear my mom saying that.

College is closed, having us a snow day, although there's not a whole lot of snow out there at the moment. Tomorrow is already a "remote operations" day, which in my case means simply another day of no testing center.

And we have a few signs of spring already. I snapped this pic a few days ago along the creek path.

"... right in the vag/ cooch/ cha cha/ girly bits/ etc..."

Thankfully, it improved as the day wore on, and I've no more sensation of "it". But this is the main reason I typically prefer a female doctor. My PCP is female, and I have an annual checkup coming up shortly.

We'll probably talk briefly of "sensitive" topics - like allergies and stuff - before moving on to her updating me on her kids.

When we were in Steamboat Springs, I realized I'd forgotten my Kindle. I've been meaning to read more, and I love how I can carry "shelves" of books on one small device. But there I was... bookless. 

I do have the Libby app, which I'd forgotten about 🙄. I don't like reading books on my phone, but it would've done in a pinch. And as I mentioned earlier, I chucked instagram from my phone - so nice to not have that time waster anymore!

While we were browsing Steamboat's downtown, we came across a local bookstore selling used and new.  Nothing really spoke to me, though, so I remained bookless. The things we take for granted.

It's a story of a young farm boy who goes off to college to learn about farming, but ends up loving and making a career as an English Lit professor instead. Written in 1965, it spans his life from around 1900 to the 1950s.

It's touted as a "classic", but I don't think I'm the right reader for this one. I gave it three stars out of five⭐⭐⭐✖✖  mainly because I appreciated the introspection, and it felt wrong to be any harsher on a "classic".

But at the same time, geesh, the man was SO passive, and it's really a 2 or 2.5 for me. This cover illustration really gets the mood of the whole book. 

"Oh, there's a war? Welp, I'm just gonna go to classes. My wife's a basket case? I'll just hang out at my office.  ho hum...

I found the story, the narration, and certainly Stoner himself to be so very flat and passive. At about the halfway point, he seems to rise up a bit, but then quickly returns to his rather lifeless life. Again, I think I just wasn't the right reader for this book. I mean, so much seemed to be about him being an English professor. I get it... he's an English professor. 

With Teeth is about a woman struggling with her son and his issues - whatever those might be - from his toddler days into the teen years. I downloaded a sample to my kindle, and I couldn't even get through that. I can't properly review a sample, but it was just really bad IMO.

From the few pages I was able to get through, it seems to be about a woman who neither wants to be a mother nor has any business being responsible for the upbringing of a child.  Then she whines about it. A lot.

Funny thing, I read some reviews - they ranged from awful to great - and many said similar things 

"She's an awful mother, not one likeable character - five stars!"

To each their own.

Happy 5th of July. I'm glad to be over the hump that is Independence Day in the US. I engaged in nothing celebratory, and it was another day of homeboundness.

I don't typically like to be at home so much and am not used to it. My house is now quite clean as cleaning has become an activity of choice to help chase the quarantine boredom and also get some payoff.  I'm feeling reasonably well now, but still testing positive on the home test.

And I can't smell a darn thing.

I noticed yesterday, while I was (naturally) cleaning, that the Windex didn't smell like anything. Windex typically has a distinct smell, but this time, it had no smell whatsoever.  So I then began smell testing my other cleaning supplies and got a whole lot of nothing. Even smelling white distilled vinegar was like smelling tap water. Odd feeling.

My sense of taste seems to slowly be returning, so I'm hoping the same will eventually kick in for my smell buds.  In the meantime, I've spokenn with the "COVID response team" at work, and I'm cleared to return as long as:

• I no longer have symptoms
• it's been at least 5 days since the onset of symptoms

So my next scheduled shift is this Thursday, and I'll be back at it. 🙂

But enough of Tales of the Infirm.  I don't harbor hatred for my job. It's no dream job, but it's a good fit for now. One recent day, Assistant Boss asked me if I would do his job for x-amount of money.

"PFFFT, no!", I was quick to reply.  I thought he was joking because we'd just dealt with an annoying technical issue. I felt he was playing all, "I'm out, you take over!"

But then I realized he was being serious. So I asked him, "Why? You leaving?"

He went on to explain his question by suggesting that Boss is probably on the brink of retiring, and he - Assistant Boss - would go for the Boss position, thereby creating an opening for Assistant Boss.  Would I want it?

Honestly, my answer is still "PFFFT, no!", but I told him I would consider it when/ if the time came.

I've found that most professions I would enjoy doing full-time require recent work experience and/or education that I don't have. I don't want to put money into more education at this point since I'm 57 years old, and a fresh degree/ license/ certificate is no guarantee of fulfilling full-time employment. I'm not ready to "retire".

I'm okay with the present compromise - a couple of decent side gigs in lieu of a fully satisfying front gig and time to wander around with dogs and to prattle away on this blog. 

I've been working some extra shifts these last two weeks.  A couple of weeks ago featured spring semester finals for the college students. Then this past week, one of my coworkers took a vacation week to Mexico, so I covered one of her long shifts.   I'm looking forward to "normalcy" working hours.

And I'm looking forward to continued spring thaw.  Many signs shout it out, mainly return of allergy sneezing and puffiness and little puffball goose babies around every corner.

Back to work this week.  Nice to see my little team of coworkers (four of us plus a boss). Naturally, they were sympathetic about Hagrid's home.  Boss has a step-niece who was evacuated with her family, but their home was undamaged.  They weren't able to move back in yet since utilities were all turned off, but they've been back to look around.

They've got young kids who will have to be "prepared" before they return to what's left of  the neighborhood.  "Like another planet".

We've begun checking people's COVID status - fully vaccinated or recently testing negative - for access to the testing center.

I'm basically a bouncer.  Who'da thought?

We got a lot of snow, which has pulled us out of our drought for now.  We've entered the crusty yucky freeze-thaw-freeze-thaw-freeze phase from which Napolion likes to meditate.

He used to go outside each day and find things to kill or get in fights with.  Now he's strictly a housecat (not by his choice).  I wonder what he thinks as he sits on his window perch.  

Similarly meditative, y'know my young coworker friend, Malcolm, who died unexpectedly last year - he'd mentioned he liked to rap.  But whenever we asked him to lay some lyrics on us, he never would.  This week, I was led to a site where he'd uploaded some tracks.  Several tracks, actually.  More than 50 tracks over the span of about a year.  I had no idea he was so creatively prolific.

Now, I actually like some rap/ hip hop, which might surprise some.  There are also rap songs/ artists I can't stand.  I really like Malcolm's material.  And how nice to hear his voice again.

So 2022 has begun.  I don't have any resolutions, just the usual "get better".  Kaizen, yo?

The first thing I noticed were his legs.  Yes, (1) they were quite large and muscular, but (2) the temperature was upper 30's - a bit chilly for shorts in my book.  Maybe big muscles are warming. 

After acknowledging the big bare legs on the crisp morning, the next thing I noted was his bag. It was attractive and resting comfortably-looking on his back, made specifically for bicycling.  He continued south at the point where I turn east, but not before I'd acquired a good case of bag envy.

This happened one morning last week as I was riding my bicycle in to work.  Mornings are busy with bicycle traffic as I live in between a high school and an elementary school.  Packs of high schoolers pass in my opposite direction as I ride along with the elementals and, sometimes, a parent or two.

But Bag Guy was no high schooler, nor a parent of an elementary kid.  He looked to be another commuter like myself - but younger, faster, with stronger legs and nicer bag.

Until then, I'd been content enough with the backpack I wear to work.  It's about 3 years old and still in decent shape.  It holds what I need and then some.  I emptied it out for a round of what's-in-my-bag:

And I thought, "well, just for fun, let's see if I can find that guy's bag online", which of course I did.

I found it all over:  the bag company website, Amazon, REI.com... All at the same price

The bag company detected me lurking around and offered me 10% off my purchase.  But I can get it from amazon with free shipping, which about balances with the 10% off, BUT I can get it from REI, pick it up myself and avoid shipping altogether PLUS get my 10% dividend.

And then I thought, "Wait, do I need a new bag?".  Well, no 

"Does that bag have some nice features my current one doesn't?".  Well, yes.

"But do I need it?". Well, no

...and so on.  

My inner don't-settle-for-less struggles with my inner minimalist. 

Then this morning, this popped up in my Instagram feed.  This black cat in the bag I want/don't need.

source

I've always liked black cats.

"Is this cat telling me to get the damn bag already?".  Well... ?

In a little while, I'm going to the eyecare place to pick up my new glasses.  They ask that customers either wear a mask or bring their vaccination cards.  I don't actually have a vaccination "card", I have a vaccination "cheesy slip of paper".  I don't know if the shooters ran out of cards and just made paper photocopies to then fill in, but that's what I have.  

We were vaccinated at work, and one of my coworkers left her vaccination cheesy slip of paper in her work scrubs and put them in the laundry.  So much for that "proof of vaccination".  But she requested and received an actual card from the pharmacy that supplied our vaccines.  

At first, I was all, "Oh NO, you WASHED it??".  But when she got her card, I was all, "Aw, I want one".

I never got one.  Maybe I should?  Last time I went to the eye docs, I took a picture of the cheesy slip of paper and showed that when I checked in and was allowed in without a mask, but they'd prefer the card for some reason.  Maybe I should put in the effort.

I'm thinking the COVID vaccine should've been the heftier gun version - like the smallpox.  Your proof of vaccination is the tell-tale scar.  My scar is still obvious, I think I was in the last class of kindergartners to get that badge of courage.  Anyone else have a smallpox vaccine scar?

Meanwhile, watching any of the Olympics?  I haven't watched any yet, just catch a few of the headlines each day whether I want to or not.  Thinking of my vision shortcomings, I could totally relate to this capture:

I may never win Olympic gold, but yes, I can relate.  Scoreboards and everything else are so far away.

Here's the full reaction:

Yeah, she's one of us.

"sign cope?", Magnum sounded out.  We were at a coffee shop when he got a text from his step mother.  His dad was at the hospital getting checked out after an episode of syncope.  

I asked him what had happened, and that's when he phoneticized "sign cope?"  

"Ah", I recalled ,"he fainted -  sing·kuh·pee"

My FIL is nearly 87 years old, active and in quite good shape for his age, but syncope happens.  He was given a thorough once over and sent home to rest after ruling out anything serious.  

But we got into pondering why we non-medical people have different words, that aren't necessarily slang, than medical people.  They say syncope, we say fainting.

Many years ago, when I was pondering ways I could both earn money and stay home with the kids, I took a medical transcription course.  I finished it but never became a medical transcriptionist, opting instead for home daycare.  I managed to remember some of the terminology though, like syncope.  

Another word I liked was "debridement" as far as fun words to pronounce go, because my particular transcription course used the French pronunciation.  Even wound cleaning sounds sensual in French.

Yesterday, I went in for my annual physical if for nothing else but our insurance puts money in our HSA if we do these things each year.  And since I was there, I asked my doctor about a mole on my shoulder that seems to have gotten bigger recently.  After taking a look, she referred me to a dermatologist.

Back at home, I contacted the skin doctor office to book an appointment while looking at the notes from my Dr. visit.  She'd listed "changing nevus" in the things we'd discussed.  Through my adroit deductive reasoning, I determined that nevus (nee·vuhs) means mole.  Yup.  

...or mole means nevus?  

Which came first, and why?

Got any medical terms to share today?

We started out as coworkers, and eventually I was sort of his boss.  Malcolm was one of the young "pups" of which I found myself the den mother.  

When I  think of Malcolm, I think of how patient he was with the elderly residents in his care, kindly coaxing them out of their confusion or loudly but gently asking them to "PUT IN YOUR HEARING AIDS".  Like the rest of us, he tired of wearing the gowns, the N95 masks, etc. but he did it without complaint, looking forward to when the residents could come out of their rooms and socialize.

And mostly, he was just a sweet kid.

In the  kitchen, he was known for his "legendary" breakfasts.  Working the day shift, we could order anything for our breaks, and the cooks gladly obliged while we all marveled at Malcolm's metabolism.  They loved his huge orders, and he was also their "go to" whenever they needed a taste tester for new recipes.

He once casually asked me what my favorite lunch special was, and I voted for chicken saltimbocca.  The next time the cooks prepared that dish, Malcolm took it upon himself to stash a serving away for me.

I can honestly say that, although he was so young and I'm old enough (and then some) to be his mom, I'm a better person for having known Malcolm.  He found a new job about a month ago and left our care facility after deciding he didn't want to get the COVID vaccine just yet.  I told him he'd be greatly missed, but it was a good new opportunity for him.

He tragically died last weekend.  He was just 19 years old, taking the year off before starting college because of the pandemic.

From what we've been able to gather without being too pushy, he smoked some weed that was - unbeknownst to him - laced with fentanyl.  

Dammit, Malcolm.  Damn world.

This whole work week, we've shuffled along like zombies, trying to remain cheerful if only in appearance.  A couple of residents have picked up on it, and I confessed that I'd unexpectedly lost a good friend.

They offer sweet words of comfort and encouragement since, heaven knows, they know grief, having lived as long as they have.  I still couldn't bring myself to tell any of them that it was Malcolm we'd lost.  

Rest In Peace, sweet Malcolm. 

I still hear you and believe I see signs of you letting me know that you're still here with us, but just out of reach.  All these little coincidences...

I'm grateful to have known you.  

I'll never forget you.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Linking up this week with Mama Kat for the prompt:
4. Write a blog post inspired by the word: light

I'm sitting here enjoying some coffee while catching up on a few blogs.  I had an enjoyable morning run and am just chilling, post shower and breakfast

So what?

Well, my work schedule is different now, and I think I like this better.  I used to work early morning until early afternoon.  Now, I'm late morning until early evening.  I'm 40 hours a week instead of 30, but I feel like I'm more productive, both at and away from work, because of these lazy mornings.   Then again, it's only been a coupla days.  Give it time...

It's nice to see visitors at the nursing home.  I've been there since September 2020, so don't know of anything pre-pandemic.  Most of my young charges who work the evenings are high school or college students, all girls.  While they're great with the residents, they are clearly enjoying young visitors, particularly grandsons!

One of the girls said a rehab patient asked her if she's married.  She's not.

"Oh, not into guys?", he asked.

"I'm seventeen", she deadpanned.

Maybe it's these guys getting bolder near the end, or having their minds make them think they're young again.  Or a little of both.

Why assume only two options?  Married or not into guys?  Women have many opportunities for fulfillment these days, most seventeen-year-olds know that.

They just need to remember that, now that the grandsons are here.

I stepped into my boss's office, she looked up with a look that said, 

"WhoTF are you and why are you in my office?"

I mentioned a while back that my boss at the old folks' home put in her resignation after accepting a bigger position at another senior living place.  This is her final week with us.  There's been some speculation about who would replace her, and the most logical choice seemed to be the current assistant boss.

The present hierarchy in our department is as such:  Boss --> Assistant Boss --> Me --> the rest of the cubs in the den.  To make speculation gossip all the more confusing, Boss and Assistant Boss both have the same name, let's say they're "Audrey".

So conversations have gone something like, "Is Audrey gonna replace Audrey?  How does Audrey feel about it?  If Audrey replaces Audrey, who will replace Audrey?"

Follow?

There was a time when I thought I would want to be Assistant Boss if the opportunity arose, but lately, that feeling has waned.  Not sure why, maybe it's just spring fever.  Anyway, amid the speculation, I knew I would not apply for Assistant Boss should Audrey2 replace Audrey1.

Then...

yesterday, Boss started texting me, inquiring if I was interested in being Assistant Boss.  I said I was open to chatting about it.  We arranged to do that this morning.

I'm not working today, so I went in at our agreed meeting time when I was greeted with the aforementioned "WhoTF...?" look.  Apparently, I look quite different in my everyday than I do when I'm at work?  

After a moment, she finally recognized me and we had a bit of a laugh, her saying I look so different.  It leaves me wondering if the "different" is good or bad, but anyway...

It turns out the Assistant Boss has, in fact, secured the Boss position.  They want me to be the new Assistant Boss, so I now have a decision to make.  Honestly, I've been seriously thinking about cutting my hours at the facility and picking up more tutoring jobs, as the facility work has started to feel quite mundane. But if I take the Assistant job, I will stop the tuting altogether.

I told them I'd think about it and get back to them, so that's what I'm doing.  I did a little decision matrix just now and Assistant Boss won out over reduced hours + more tuting (57 points vs. 47 points).  It won out mainly because the Assistant Boss work would have more substance than what I'm doing now, has more potential for growth and learning, and pays better unless I take on a LOT of tutees.  

Tuting won out only for free time - which dwindles if I take on enough tutees to match the pay of the Assistant Boss - and it has a teeny tiny better commute, since I tutor online.  Even a 1.5-mile commute can be a factor when there's two feet of snow.

So I think I'm gonna say yes?  I mean, at least my name isn't Audrey.

And more importantly, do I look so different at work vs. not at work?  I took a car selfie (something I never do because I just don't "get" car selfies) after my chat with the Audreys to juxtipose with my work look (post COVID vaccine selfie)