Julie R. Neidlinger: Lone Prairie Art Works

Sugar and spice?

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 5 comments link this post

There is no greater friend than a girlfriend who has my back and has a listening (but discerningly gentle) ear.

But women. Working with all women, who may be friends but not necessarily those close confidants, can be killer. In all my jobs, the ones that have been predominantly female in co-worker percentage tend to wear me down the fastest. The constant gossip, backstabbing, subtle verbal jabs and tendency to find the rug pulled out from beneath me at the drop of a hat. I hate even saying it, because I don't like to dump on my own fellow females.

What to say?

I remember watching a particularly awful episode of Bridezillas in which the mother was getting remarried and the 20-something daughter was the most awful, selfish, childish, out-of-line woman I'd ever seen. She carried on and berated and tore her mother down in every way possible, lashing out at her mother's soon-to-be-husband until, in one very revealing moment, the groom summed it all up to the camera: women don't want other women happy. He was obviously saddened and angered by that fact; it appeared to make little sense to him yet he could see that that was the case.

Mind you, he said this as the mother and daughter screamed at each other in the background, but it was an astute observation of the situation at hand as well as one that could apply to too much in life.

My girlfriends, those ones I talked about at the beginning? My true there-for-you friends do want to see me happy, and I them. This isn't about close friends, but how women act and relate in general.

For one thing, the gossip factor is outrageous. I've come to believe that gossip is the default setting for women.

I used to joke about how, in high school, the moment one girl got up and left the group -- even if just for a moment -- the rest of us girls would verbally cut her up. When she got back, we were as sweet as could be. If another girl left, the same thing happened. I know it never occurred to me (until I walked in on some girls trashing me) that they would do the same when I wasn't there. Sadly, high school is actually just the rehearsal for life. That same thing still happens with women.

In fact, I have to actively pursue avoidance of gossip -- work at it, if you can believe it -- rather than the other way around. If you have a group of women sitting around, chances are pretty good they are talking about another woman. I have to consciously decide each moment I'm in a conversation with other women that I will not let myself slip up and start talking about another woman. It's really like that, most of the time.

It goes back to what that man said as he watched his future bride claw it out with her daughter: women don't want to see other women happy.

Which stems, of course, from competition. What is it we are competing for?

I don't know...men? attention? the best outfit? favor? fear of the clock ticking? I know I have feelings of competition with other women and I can't even put my finger on where that comes from, exactly, except that I often feel like I'd better pull ahead of other women or I'll really be left to rot. Ideally, I would find strength and safety instead of endless competition and cutting down.

Of course, the understanding of how women are in constant competition with other women over everything -- looks, home, family, life -- is the foundation for all marketing done towards them. All advertisements for makeup, cleaning products -- everything directed towards women -- count on the fact that we are constantly comparing and competing. See the beautiful model? You can't compete unless you buy such-and-such a product. Women are driven to consume on a competition model, usually one based on other women.

I should think, with as brutal as this world is toward women as far as expectations on appearance and perfection, that it would be nice if my sisters weren't helping throw the knives. At the very least, I need to make this a purposeful action in my own life: build my sisters up instead of tearing them down. Let them get ahead. Help them win. Be happy for their happiness.

I remember in High School reading Frank Stockton's story "The Lady or the Tiger?", a story which leaves the ending up to the reader. We were to debate the story and support, with reason, which we thought happened. Did the man open the door to find the tiger, or to find the lady?

Everyone mostly agreed that his true love would never direct him to open a door and be eaten by a tiger, that she would, since she loved him, direct him to the door with the lady behind it. Even if she knew she could never be with him again, she'd rather see him alive and with another woman than dead.

I sat there in silence, before I couldn't take it anymore.

"Are you kidding? Lots of women would rather see him dead than have another woman win. Let's get real. At that point, it isn't even about the guy, but the other woman. She's competition."

It's always a little sad when I realize how often we women will feed each other to the tiger at nearest opportunity.

I'm sure men have their own take on what they see women doing, in this regard, as well as their own version of "guy gossip" -- I'd be curious to hear it. I have this idea that men work out their conflicts with each other in other ways -- basketball, video games, fight club (ha ha), etc. -- basically, actual competition or physical ways to "get the poison out." Women tend to, because of our verbal accuity and natural tendency to not openly compete in, say, a game to resolve an issue, for example, keep on cutting with our tongue even with a smile on our face.

Is it like this with men, too? Because with women, it's brutal.

Buy the original cartoon!

Materials: Pigment and permanent inks on 8.5x11 super slick 80 lb. UV protected (archival) paper. Unframed.

Cost: $20 (plus S&H)

Labels: cartoons, women, work

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TPS reports.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 3 comments link this post

I'm in a coffee shop trying to study, and at the table next to me are six women discussing their workplace. Evidently, there are some attitude problems at their workplace, and they seem to be trying to come up with a program to curb employee gossip, bad attitudes, and, in general, come up with a way to improve it.

The best way, as far as assured results, would be to pull a Milton, and burn it down.

Some of the ideas these well-meaning ladies have come up with are:

posters in the break room encouraging positive attitude (as if anything good comes from posting something in the break room)
giving away peanut butter cups, and other such rewards, based on the good things and positive attitudes exhibited by the employees
Catchy catch-phrases to remind everyone of the hoped-for positive attitude

I'm just going to stop there, because when the "catchy" catch phrase and poster that everyone agrees will do the trick is "Attention Scotty! We're looking for good attitudes here!"...

...matches.

Get the matches.

A poster like that is asking to be defaced with a Sharpie.

TPS, indeed.

Labels: work

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Homer Simpson is disappointed in me.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 1 comments link this post

I'm not sure what to do with my resume.

Not that it's the resume's fault, but more the person doing the work to add the entries. So maybe I should say, yet again, I don't know what to do with my job/career/how-to-categorize-me life.

I recently attempted to get a night job making donuts at a bakery to earn a little extra money while living down here in Bismarck. I figured night shift work would be better due to the flexible nature of the flying lessons and the hours they generally happen.

As my flight instructor was encouraging me regarding my slow progress in the area of landings, he said something about "baby steps."

"Yes," I said, "but they are such expensive baby steps."

I don't want to end up having a job that pushes the flying into second place, since the reason I'm here is to learn to fly and not, for example, make donuts. However...expensive baby steps.

So, I applied for the bakery job. Heck, I like to bake. I've worked in food service, been a short-order cook. I've done night shift work.

In fact, that's part of the problem.

I've done a lot of completely unconnected stuff over the years, and whenever I apply for a job or some potential employer gets a look at my resume, they don't know what to do with me. What do you do with a person who has a Bachelor of Fine Arts who was a public school teacher and a reporter and cleaned houses and a graphic designer and takes part in medical experiments for a little extra cash and has her own art business and a postal worker and a and a and a...

"You have an interesting work history," I hear often. In fact, people are always telling me I'm "interesting" which, as I told a friend in a recent conversation, is a seriously loaded word. It's a word people use when they don't know what else to say and don't want to insult. i.e. "That's an...interesting painting, Julie."

I can understand employers' qualms.

Am I some sort of quitter? Maybe. But I've never left any job with burned bridges behind me...so maybe I'm not just some sort of quitter, but an expert quitter.
Am I unable to stick around for five or more years? Possibly. Or maybe I've just not found the job meant to be. I don't know. Maybe I'm not meant to punch a time card, particularly since I can't seem to actually handle that.
Do I stay in one place? Well, no. I love to travel and I do.
Am I over- or under- qualified? Depends, I guess, on the job; I'm still willing to give it a try, though. I'm pretty good at faking it until I get it for real.
Why don't I have one type of job; am I aimless? Maybe. But frankly, the person with a single-minded aim is the person who freaks me out.
What should I be categorized as? You'll have hard luck with that one.

I already wrote about the concept of adult underachiever-hood. I think I've achieved things, but they aren't typical or aren't things that "count" when it comes to job descriptions, resume entries, impressive CV's, or, um, donut-making.

I really love cake donuts. I will acquiesce on that point.

I was reading Barbara Ehrenreich's latest book on the white collar work world (which I have never been in), and remember thinking that I was very glad I didn't have to take part in that headhunter/personal coach/resume fibbing-type circus. But, possibly, I do on a small level.

(But...for making donuts?)

I was asked what the top three skills or qualifications I'd bring with me to the donut job. Since this wasn't rocket science, I didn't feel the need to point out all the computer software and languages I can work with, nor did I list any of my other skills which -- really, there are many. I got me some mad skills, people. For the kind of work it was, however, I can honestly say (and did say) this:

I show up on time, when asked, and don't call in sick.
I don't bring my personal garbage to work; I have a good attitude at work.
I learn quickly* and am a hard worker.

Nevertheless, I will not be adding further color to my resume with a "donut-maker" entry.

I'LL NEVER EAT ANOTHER DONUT AGAIN! HA!

Someone, buy some of my art.** Please. Or else I may try to apply for a job in your area, throw off the curve, and then you'll be sorry.

*Except, apparently, when it comes to landing an airplane.

** There's lots of new pieces up!

Labels: my life, work

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Trained monkeys.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 2 comments link this post

::This week, I'm teaching a few different summer art classes. Today I taught one on cartooning, which you can read more about here. The cartoon below was one I drew during that class. I'm pretty sure my young students didn't find it as funny as I did... But in about 20 years, they'll understand. And weep.::

Labels: cartoons, work

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I'm very serious.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 5 comments link this post

I probably started it by drawing a cartoon that said "Anna is icky." I'm guessing that's not encouraged in the employee handbook. I have some "professional maturity" issues.

Here are a few theories on the matter: a) Anna brings out the worst in me because she's a cheerful goader.

Anyway, from there, things went south.

I probably also should not have made a paper airplane, but I do make great paper airplanes that gain steady lift, have long glides, and graceful descents. (Please refrain from the obvious comments you could make here about me and real-life airplane descents.)

I threw the paper airplane back towards Dennis, who remained oblivious to the now-activated airspace around him. It was a pure work of grace, that plane, gliding along with sharp lines and clear path.

"That's a good airplane," Anna said, a seemingly rare compliment. I should have known better, though, for she continued. "If only you could fly a real one that well."

The blows are low here, where I work, like verbal steel pipe to the knees.

So I drew up several clever insulting "intra-office memos" and placed them on her desk. She altered them in a most unbecoming manner which involved a scissor and a Milk Dud. Co-worker Toni became jealous, and she said she wanted a cartoon like Anna. Evidently, if I become famous and then die, the drawing may help her financially. I am always happy to insult my friends, so I obliged her wishes by drawing a cartoon just for her.*

"I get a kick out of watching you two," Toni said. "You're like a comedy routine. I can never tell if you're serious or not..."

"I'm always serious!" I said. "That's why I'm making this shirt!"

I'm very serious.

Don't you forget.

UPDATE: You can get your own "I'm very serious" shirt here.

* We do actually accomplish work during the day.

Labels: cartoons, friends, work

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Conversation: No life.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 1 comments link this post

In a recent conversation with a person, I got to thinking about the phrase "I have no life" in terms of working at a job extensively vs. the concept that life = self free time.

"You work a lot," I said.

This person had a working schedule that would make me implode, since the jobs I've had always seemed to suck the life out of me and leave a kind of vacuum inside that made me wonder if I were just lazy or if it was even possible for anyone -- namely me -- to enjoy any paying job. More than one friend has expressed serious disillusion with their work, so I know I'm not alone.

The person nodded in agreement and jokingly replied. "Yeah, I work a lot. I have no life."

"I hope you enjoy your work," I replied.

"I do. I love my job."

"That's good," I said, rather blandly, but I was thinking that this person was so far ahead of most people that I could barely fathom it. Loved the job?

That's far more of a life than the average person working a job they disliked that made them try to overcompensate on both real off-the-clock time and the on-the-clock-but-wish-I-weren't time.

I would love to love a job. It would help cull some of the excessive restlessness inside, the constant push to find the next new opportunity that might be the job I could at least like. The truth in this case lies very close to the truth I am finally understanding about home and geography.

Home isn't geography. It isn't a specific geographical place. It's a fluid time, a compilation of moments, a sense of being where you are supposed to be, where you are safe and wanted. Home can be taken with you from place to place, on into the future, allowed to change, if the foundation was laid right. For too long I thought I had to be in a specific place to be home. That made moving on, and the passage of time and how it played out in people and buildings, a horrible thing. Once I released home from being locked to a place in geography, I could relax and just enjoy the compilation of memories.

And so, just as home isn't a place, I could love my work if I could finally get a handle on how it has nothing to do with the actual job.

I think.

If you love your job and you are constantly working, you have a life. It's those of us practicing truth-avoidance with a smile that have no life no matter how much time we call our own.

Labels: conversations, essay, personal, work

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So far, so good.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 2 comments link this post

Things are going well on my little summer adventure.

There's still a few unsettled questions regarding the place I'm staying/working, but I'll know more about that today and am not going to dwell on it now.

I do like my room, in that place where I'm staying.

It's small and sparse. There's a ceiling fan that has a slight hum, windows that crack open just enough to let in a breeze from the alley/courtyard below, and about the only noise being the roar of the main building's air conditioning system periodically mixing with the wailing train that goes by. The bathroom, with it's cracked tile floor and old fixtures, is sort of a nice change from things at home. I have four hangers and hanging items in the closet -- that's it! I'm determined to keep it bare and empty, a sort of attempt at de-clutterizing my usual existence. Not having the distraction of easy internet, TV, or, essentially, anything beyond the silence of reading, seems to fit into that idea of taking clutter out of life. Everything is put in its place, very neatly, and I like it.

I'm right in the downtown area of the "city" I'm in, and I've just started exploring and finding where things are (grocery store, etc.). It's a nice switch from the farm, having little businesses and stores and coffee shops tucked into the buildings around me within easy walking distance. Part of what makes it fun, I think, is knowing I don't have to live here forever, but can enjoy it for what it is for now.

A little adventure, you know, is a good an necessary thing, even if it's an adventure that is very much "little" and may not seem like an adventure to anyone else.

Last night was my first night of "class." My instructor is very nice (I'm guessing around my age or a bit younger, though I'm bad at estimating stuff), and I feel comfortable around him. In watching how he was a stickler for detail, I feel like I can trust him to teach me what I need to know. It is important that a student is able to trust a teacher. With what I am trying to learn, it is overwhelming if I look at the huge picture and so I need to trust that I will learn what I need to know when I need to know it. I feel like I can do that. That's good. It helps me to relax and learn what's in front of me and not try to take it all in at once.

I had my first homework last night! It's been a long time since I had a huge textbook with diagrams and tons of stuff to learn. Kind of a nice challenge; I used to love school.

I have been attempting to use my cell phone* to update on both Twitter and Utterz; it doesn't always work, but that's how it goes, I guess.

Whatever else this ends up being, whether it's the success I hope it to be, or a success in spite of things that at first seem to be failures, I know it's an excellent opportunity to get out of a rut and break the usual habits of life I'd acquired. New surroundings, completely new people, new challenges, and requirements for new kinds of discipline, including mental, spiritual, and personal.

On my list of things to do:

Locate free WiFi because there has to be some place in this day and age that offers it, besides McDonalds! Grrr.
Study.
Meet with the person in charge of where I am staying to determine what's going on there for me and what my job/place/role is. (I feel unsettled about that as of yet)
Write the Bible studies and devotions for our morning group meetings during the end-of-June Nicaragua trip, since that seems to be what the others in the group want me to do

* For those of my close friends who have my cell phone number, feel free to text or call me. Just for this summer, I am temporarily lifting the "Don't call me because I have to pay per minute and it's expensive!!!" ban that I usually put in place whenever I give my number to a friend. I'm using "my new cell phone" as my communication link, giving it the workout it has long deserved.

Labels: education, my life, summer 2008, work

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Consti-bear.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

Oh, the glorious hi-jinx at work.

After receiving several scathing verbal blows over my recent cat scat post, my hurt and wounded mind slipped into permanent junior-high-boy level. So, when Anna innocently asked my opinion on a design project geared toward a young girl, I moved in for the kill.

"Try some teddy bears. Going to the bathroom. Because that's all I can come up with, apparently."

This led to a few moments of hilarity.

First, Anna came up with a teddy bear design and asked me to come over and see if I thought it would be appropriate. I thought it was perfect, and wanted an item with the design on it for myself. (See the design here.)

Then, she began flipping through the teddy bear clip art, trying to find one that would work. As I looked over her shoulder, my de-evolving mind infecting hers, we both started giggling at otherwise innocent bear clip art.

Me: Ha ha. That one look like it's...

Anna: No, wait, look at this one!

Me: Ha. That one would be perfect if you added an alien bursting from its stomach.*

Anna: You're disgusting.

She flips to the next image, which is actually a cartoon-y bear with its teeth bared, as if it was merely growling, but in our current mindset, it looked constipated. We both burst out laughing.

I went back to my desk to resume working. It wasn't long before Anna jokingly suggested I draw her some teddy bear clip art since she couldn't find any good ones. This was a foolish request since it was obvious I wasn't going to come up with anything usable.

As you can see.

* Alien, Aliens, and Alien 3 were on the Fox Movie Channel recently and I recorded them on the Tivo (and will leave them on there for future enjoyment). I haven't seen them in years, and I've worked my way through the first two and am obsessed with aliens and facehuggers. I saw the alien creature used in Aliens. It's in the SciFi museum in Seattle. In person, it's a lot less terrifying. Looks like dried up foam and paper. In the film, however...well, see for yourself (warning: linked video is not at all child safe). Ripley is awesome. I love monster movies.

Labels: cartoons, friends, humor, work

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Threatened doll.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 1 comments link this post

So I get an email with the picture you see here attached, and the following message:

Someone needs your help. I hope nothing bad happens!

I've also gotten a message in my Facebook inbox regarding this toy and its imminent safety, referring to it as a "weird, stuffed worm baby."

This is a toy I was getting to give as a gift. It's soft and squishy and has angel wings and says "blessings to baby" and this is what happens in my absence from work.

Nothing is safe anymore.

Two guesses as to which co-worker is pulling these hi-jinx.

I fear for my pet mouse.

UPDATE: And the adventures of Worm Baby continue. My co-worker has a lot of time on her hands...

Labels: work

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Battle of personal theme songs.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 2 comments link this post

At work, I began humming my own personal theme song, "Sleigh Ride."

Anna then began humming the "Raider's March" from the Indiana Jones' movies.

"I can't wait for that movie to come out," I said*.

We discussed when it would come out. Then, I told her of the Indiana Jones triple feature I went to during my college days.

"It was at the Fargo Theater, and started at 6 p.m. For $2 each film, I watched all three movies in order. It was awesome! I'd never seen the first two in a theater before that!" I was excited just recalling the moment.

"The second movie wasn't very good. It lacked continuity," Anna said, efficiently throwing a wet blanket on my enthusiasm. I narrowed my eyes.

"So? The point was, is that I got to see all three films one after another. Six hours of Indiana Jones."

"I didn't like the second one."

Harrumph.

"I'm going to tie you to a post, prop open your eyes**, and open the Ark of the Covenant and make you watch," I snapped.

It devolved into us bickering about the age of Harrison Ford and his ability to do stunts and the use of stunt men, and finally, me humming "Sleigh Ride" louder, trying to drown out her effort at humming the "Raider's March."

Bah.

*A rough recall of actual conversation.

**Taking a page from A Clockwork Orange

Labels: friends, movies, work

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The day.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 2 comments link this post

Today I got up, washed my face, cleaned up the kitchen, and made the pastry dough for the strawberry galette I'm planning for tonight's meal. I did, of course, South Beach-ize the recipe and used whole wheat pastry flour and a sugar substitute.

I put the dough in the fridge, and then went upstairs.

I opened my email program, and while the emails were downloading (over 40 of them), I straightened up my bedroom and got things in order. I then proceeded to answer the emails, filing them all into the appropriate email folders, whether it be from friends or customers or art inquiries.

I printed out a few time sheets for some projects I'm working on, filling out project information and organizing them on the clipboard that tops the pile of "things I need to keep in mind."

I opened up my online document program and checked my "to do" list. I have a long list of projects in the works, including blogs and web sites, illustrations, logos, personal sewing projects, NRN-ND related tasks, photo re-touching, and a group art opportunity. I fielded an email about an upcoming interview for a North Dakota artists web site, and sent off an email interview of my own, to feature on this blog.

I got to work, firing up my graphics and ftp programs.

Just before lunch, I went to town and mailed a T-shirt to my sister in preparation for an upcoming event.

I then ate lunch while catching up on an episode of Psyche (one of my favorite TV shows and one of the few TV shows I watch anymore) that I have saved on Tivo.

Then, I designed the shirt for the 5K event.

I emailed a drawing to a client.

I continued working on my list of things to do.

Around 4:30, I'll go downstairs and work on finishing the strawberry galette dessert. After dinner, I will take a bath, and then sit on my bed and read. I might practice the guitar. I have a few letters to write, and a new devotional book that I think looks interesting.

After that, I'll flip off the light, the cat will curl up next to me, and I'll go to sleep.

In the course of the day today, I earned more money than I did yesterday at my "real" job and didn't spend any money on gas or lunch. This isn't always the case, mind you, but I've been very busy as of late. I hope this keeps up, and I hope I can keep up.

This might sound like a really boring day for the career professional. It's been pretty quiet in its own way, with no constant phones and noise and commuting. But... all in all, a pretty good day.

How about you?

Labels: food, my life, work

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An X-Files day.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 5 comments link this post

Today has been odd so far.

I started it off right wearing my new St. Patricks Day 2008 T-shirt. You can never have too many St. Patty's day shirts on hand. I figured I'd get everyone ready for the major holiday, which is just a week away.

Then, after informing dad that the refrigerator sounded funny, I found myself trying to help him get his hand unstuck from where he had accidently wedged it between the wall and the fridge in an effort to "find out what that rattle is."

"Well doggone it, now I've got my hand stuck," he said. (Or something like that)

At work, I faced the difficult task of getting annoying songs out of my head, which started with "Do The Hustle" and was followed by selections from "The Barber of Seville" which was then followed by the theme from the Smurf's and finally, my old stand-by of at least three years running, "Sleigh Ride." It was very difficult to concentrate with all that racket running through my head. I found, by humming the flute part in "Do The Hustle", that I was able to get the tune stuck in my co-worker's head, too. There was some relief in that small success.

I took my first break, walked to my optometrist's office, and picked up my new glasses. I liked them immediately. That was a strange experience. Usually I have to go through about 12 complaints before settling down and liking something.

I then went downstairs to get a better look at the new glasses in the bathroom mirror.

"I wouldn't use that toilet if I were you," a co-worker said.

I agreed.

The toilet was like something out of X-Files, gurgling and bubbling and actually spitting water out. My first thought was of the fluke episode of X-Files, which made me want to vomit. But then I wondered at the sudden change in job status, now that I worked at a place that had a functioning bidet.

That also made me want to vomit.

The glasses were still rockin', though.

Back at my desk, I was buzzed over the intercom.

"Julie, you have a package just delivered!"

My initial thought was one of terror, since I have an over-active conscience and am guilty about something at any given time. This morning, I beat a Chevy pickup to a parking spot and considered that the driver may have decided to exact revenge by delivering something nefarious.

It turned out to be flowers. Six peach roses and some dark purple status. Absolutely beautiful and...with no name on the card. My first thought was that perhaps dad had turned soft and sent me flowers for helping release his hand back into the wild earlier in the morning, but that wasn't really a viable option.

"Is it your birthday?" someone asked.

"No," I said. "But I did get new glasses today."

I'm the queen of non sequiturs without even trying.

I also fell off of my diet today by eating Cadbury Mini-Eggs which I refuse to feel guilt over.

"Anna, I'm throwing my Mini-Egg wrapper away in your garbage," I said. A little later, I threw away a Diet Coke bottle that I'd been lugging around for over a week and was now flat. "I'm throwing away my Diet Coke in your garbage."

"You know," she said, "you don't have to update me every time you throw something away."

The weird thing was, I still feel like I need to let her know. The garbage is behind her, and it seems natural, like when walking behind a horse, to make my presence known.

"I'm throwing my cheese wrapper away in your garbage."

I wonder what the rest of the day will bring, and I'd really like to know who sent those flowers. Oh, the suspense of both.

UPDATE: And now, here at work, we have no running water -- no running water! -- at what appears to be the Gulag! (For 15 minutes, at least.)

Labels: family, friends, my life, work

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Lucky charms.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 1 comments link this post

Today at work I wore a light green shirt under a dark green T-shirt that says "Ireland" on it.

"You look like a leprechaun," co-worker Anna said to me, adding that I was also short.

I love coming to work.

Anna is short, too.

I threw out a few comments about pots of gold, rainbows, and lucky charms. Just wait until she sees the green T-shirt I have with Kermit the frog on it, with the admonishment to "stay green" written across the front. Plus, I have the $5 Old Navy St. Patty's day shirt for 2008 all ready to wear on March 17th. (Though this year's March 17th brings events that will force me to be subdued and hide the shirt somewhat.)

So I'm all decked out in green and looking like a leprechaun, I guess, when a customer blurts out to me, as I'm working on her shirt design, that I have beautiful eyes.

"Mine are just brown," she said. "Yours are...wow. Green and blue."

I stuttered and stammered and turned red-faced. But...I made her shirt extra special and I think I grew an eighth of an inch taller.

Flattery gets you everywhere, with or without lucky charms.

Labels: my life, work

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Conversation: Not in the shower.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

I met with Michael and Colleen for coffee today. I was frustrated with work; I am at the point in life where, after a decade of doing the same thing, essentially, I can't possibly come up with another design for another school sports event, nor do I find any sense of purpose or fulfillment in putting names on pants and shirts. I was, in other words, Debbie Downer.

Me: (sliding low in my chair) If I have to create another name for another hockey jersey, I am...I am.. I'll just... hang myself.

Michael: (sips his coffee) In the shower or in a barn?

Me: (pausing to think) It'd have to be a barn. Our shower's too short. Not enough altitude.

Michael: Do you guys have barns?

Me: Yes, several.

Colleen: That's right, you do, don't you...

Michael: You could jump out of the hay mow.

Me: (shaking my head) No. That's questionably reliable.

Michael: Yeah, you'd probably just hurt yourself.

(pause)

Michael: So which chapter in the book are you going to teach for Sunday school this week?

Me: Not sure. I'll let you know.

And then I went back to work.

Note: Comments are closed. I have such good readers -- many of whom will kindly lecture me on joking or making light of this subject -- that I have just gone and closed them and saved you the trouble. Rest assured, I am not giving away my prized possessions.

Labels: conversations, friends, work

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Flower power.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 6 comments link this post

A co-worker got flowers from her husband today. Delivered right to the store. As she walked by with her platoon of long-stemmed roses, I said something sweet and appropriate like "You jerk."

I think she said something like "you'll get flowers someday" to which my funeral immediately came to mind.

I'm like Charles Bronson. Death wish. I have planned and re-planned my funeral many times, while other chicks plan weddings. I completely understand Tim Burton's movies, which has always annoyed me.

Death wish, but with flowers!

I love flowers. I do. We have lots of flowers in flower beds around the house. A relative was up visiting a few years back, and we got to talking about the flowers.

::Tip: Deer love to eat tulips. Just be forewarned; spring may bring momentary delight and subsequent squelching disappointment.::

"I love flowers," I said as we walked around the yard, planning to continue on with the comment by talking about flower bouquets. However, she interrupted and said that she, too, loved flowers but that they shouldn't be cut because they belonged outside where they were growing. That could be an interesting philosophy for life, if carried to its ultimate end: things should remain in their natural state from whence they originate.

Being spineless, I said, in the moment, that I agreed.

Heck no, I don't agree. I love cutting flowers and arranging them in vases and bowls.

::Tip: Remember to dip the peonies in water or your table will soon be covered in ants.::

I've gotten flowers twice. Actually, I think my mom got me flowers once. I can't remember the details... anyway, I got a bunch of roses from a woman who ran an non-profit organization I had done some art and design work for. It was a thank you gift, and I was thrilled. There were pink and peach and yellow roses -- really beautiful. I also got flowers from my friend Becky in college, the evening of the opening of my B.F.A. senior art show. Tulips, red and yellow, in a glass vase. I still have the vase. I remember being aghast when she handed them to me and said they were for me; those were the first flowers I'd gotten. It was the perfect topper for a hellish semester of stress and drama to get the art show up.

::Tip: Do NOT plant white yarrow in your flower bed. It is the nastiest weed-like plant that you'll never be able to get rid of.::

Come to think of it, I think I've gotten a few carnations at church when they used to give away flowers to all the women in church at the Mother's Day service. They always throw me a little awkward pity and just say something like "you can have a flower even if you're not a mother" and I take one because carnations are fun to mess around with if you have a bowl full of colored water and patience.

::Tip: Cut the stems of roses diagonally with a knife. A scissor damages the stem in such a way that they will not last as long.::

Flowers are just beautiful. Even the cheap bouquets from the grocery store, even the flowers dyed a garish color. I've purchased a few of those cheap bunches now and then, just for us to enjoy here at home. The cat, however, enjoys fresh plant material a little too much and so maybe it's all for the best that we don't have lots of flowers in vases in the house. It's a little disheartening to see him bitting the flower heads off of the stems.

::Tip: Lilacs are always the right flower for making your house smell wonderful. Mmm...lovely.::

I do, however, expect my nieces and nephews -- for whom I've devoted many countless hours of my life babysitting, reading to, taking on trips, making burned grilled cheese sandwiches for, buying fundraising items from, changing diapers, making bottles, helping with homework, taking to movies, playing Legos with, making scavenger hunts complete with prizes for, talking to, and buying presents for -- to buy a ginormous, over-done, pink, totally occasion-inappropriate pile of flowers for on top of my casket, in remembrance of crazy old auntie Julie.

I'm leaning toward pink for my funeral colors. The pall bearers will have matching dresses.

::Confession: I admit to taking a flower from a funeral bouquet when no one was looking. Lilies are beautiful creations. I'm sure it said 'take me from this place' and so I did.::

Labels: brutus, family, my life, work

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Dr. Seuss makes me sick.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 7 comments link this post

OK, Dr. Seuss doesn't personally make me sick, but the very delicious and completely packed-with-sugar cake I ate at school yesterday after celebrating a month of reading that was topped off with the entire K-12 playing relay games in the gym -- the cake made me sick later.

Darn sugar.

I simply cannot resist cake.

I love cake.

The cake was to celebrate Dr. Seuss' birthday and cap off National Reading Month.

The last time I did anything remotely celebratory of Dr. Seuss and National Reading Month was a few years back when I was at the state capitol, covering some meetings for the newspaper. I was hanging around my friend Naomi and her dad (a representative) and his cronies¹. The legislators were wary of me taking a photo of them in their Dr. Seuss hats, which they had to wear all at once for a few brief moments while a woman went to the podium and read some reading stuff. Most took them off right away, but a few kept them on for a bit.

"This better not get in the paper, heh heh nervous-chuckle kind-of threat please don't publish it."

I didn't publish the photos, though I did get a photo of a legislator sleeping on the job. The use of that photo is single-handedly keeping my bills paid...um... anyway, back to present day stuff.

This past week had been a lot of fun subbing and then, watching all the kids from preschool on up have such a great time doing relay races together...very cool. Made me want to go straight home from school and get to reading, though I instead got a delicious piece of cake with gobs of frosting which made my lips blue from the frosting and then rode with dad to Devils Lake to pick up a vehicle that was in the shop and then met Michael and Colleen for coffee and various discussion².

Side note: I have a pair of socks that I wear periodically that feature Seuss' poetic "one fish two fish red fish blue fish." I know this is incredibly non-age appropriate gear. I don't know how it features into National Reading Month, though, at this point, you've suffered through reading some incredibly dismal writing.

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

¹ The word "cronies" makes me giggle inside. I want some cronies.

² Oddly, part of the "various discussion" involved a book we'd gotten recently and our hopes of using it to teach from for Sunday school. It also involved a computer question in which Michael stated that he "wished he knew more about computers" to which I replied that I, too, wished he knew more about computers. But the book part of the discussion? That relates to the topic at hand.

Labels: education, friends, my life, work

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Friendly place settings.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 6 comments link this post

A friendly napkin.

My co-worker came back from her lunch break and handed me this napkin.

"I thought you'd like it."

How nice, I thought, that this restaurant has even employed their napkins to do a little extra work.

Either that, or the clientele are a little on the slow side and need the extra labeling and instructions.

Napkin, in other countries, is a serviette. Calling this brown paper nap

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Conversation: No life.

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So far, so good.

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Consti-bear.

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Lucky charms.

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Conversation: Not in the shower.

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Flower power.

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Dr. Seuss makes me sick.

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Friendly place settings.