Observations from the freeway

Dear Fellow Driver -
I just wanted to tell you that road rage makes you U-G-L-Y. I know you were frustrated because that one car pulled in front of you on the on-ramp, but I think they were not being rude as it is a merging situation. Nevertheless, I don't really think you needed to get as mad as you got since you exited at the next off-ramp anyway. If you had seen your face, I wonder if you would have been surprised and shocked, like me. Your forehead was creased into a deep V, your eyes were narrowed, your mouth was distorted - all by rage. Over one small moment in your life.

You scared me, and I wasn't even the subject of your feelings.

Please be careful out there. Peace to you.

Respectfully,
a page from her book

...Meh...

My cat has more energy than me today.

He's chasing the fur tumbleweeds that flit across our hardwood.

Yes, I will vacuum. Tomorrow.

Weekend with the 'rents

I got back yesterday evening from an extended weekend with the parents. It was a wonderful weekend, and though I missed TH, it was nice to spend some time with Mom and Dad all by myself.

We spent our time talking, drinking, talking, eating, talking, going to the museum, talking, going to yoga, talking, going to a spa, talking, reading, talking, and quilting. And talking.

Mango-vanilla soy ice cream blended with coconut rum. Drinks all around!

The museum we went to is the California Legion of Honor. We saw a show of "Women Impressionists." Excellent exhibit.

La psyche (The Mirror). Berthe Morisot. 1876.

Mediterranean delights at La Mediterranee in Berkeley.

Is there anything better than new books??

The Chef at work in his domain.

Apricot tarte. Do not mess with perfection. I had two pieces.

The Quilter in her domain. Working on the infamous "Easy Coasters Project" of 2008.

I've discovered that quilting is not my thing. But hanging out with my parents, is.

Good times were had by all.

Sassy-fras

A One-Minute Drama

Scene: exiting the bank. Today, 4:08 PM.

Jennifer holds open the door for a Young Man of about 20 years old. Keep in mind that Jennifer is mid-thirties.

Young Man: Thank you, sweetie.

Jennifer: ... Did you just call me sweetie?

YM: (with pride and a pinch of bravado) Yes. I'm a polite gentleman.

Jennifer: (politely, but firmly) I prefer "Ma'am." (Exits to parking lot, long powerful strides, skirt whipping around her legs.)

YM: (softly) OK, I'm sorry.

Finis

Breaking Perfectionism's Grip

Not quite "Kicking Perfectionism's Ass," but I'm working on it.

I am a card-carrying perfectionist. I have struggled for years with wanting to be good - nay, PERFECT- at all I do. And when I inevitably make mistakes, I beat myself up and obsess for days (months, years). I am sure that everyone sees my errors when they happen, and - worse - remembers them as long as I do, and -EVEN WORSE - holds them against me. Forever.

(As you can see, being a drama queen along with a perfectionist can lead to some interesting internal conversations.)

Anyway, my latest work snaffle just hit this morning, as I am about to take a few days off to spend time with the parents. (Since you asked, TH and Leopold will be having a guys weekend - lots of beer, pizza, and expelling of gaseous substances. If you get my drift.) To make a long story short, an issue of miscommunication seems to have pissed off a professor. I own my mistakes in this situation. However, I recognize that the professor and a student have also made mistakes. I talked myself down from panic-mode, with the knowledge that out of 30+ situations just exactly like this one, this single episode (in which the student ultimately got done what they needed to) could maybe be acceptable. And when my coworkers and boss backed me up, I only spent an hour and a half obsessing before I was able to move on with my day.

I'm so proud of me.

So while I still have a ways to go, I feel like I've made progress. Gee, at this rate I'll kick perfectionism to the curb right....about....when....I....die.