January 14, 2009 at 7:49 am
I had intended to write an entry today about the annual Quaker Oatmeal Festival held in Lafayette, Colorado. I imagined posting images of the world’s largest topping bar and telling you everything I learned about acupressure at the health fair. However, it was not to be. I was unable to attend the Oatmeal Festival due to unforeseen circumstances, namely THE SUPER SCARY MOUNTAIN PASS OF DOOM.
My brother, Jim, and I landed in Denver Friday night as the sun was setting, picked up our rental SUV and headed out for Breckenridge, Colorado, where we would be staying for 3 nights. Breckenridge is 80 miles west of downtown Denver and the oatmeal festival is about 20 miles north of downtown Denver. That meant there was a whole lot of driving to be done that evening, the next morning, and directly after the festival. In retrospect, I should have more carefully examined the itinerary and requested that we stay in Denver the first night. However, I’ve been suffering from constant chronic pain lately, and I’m lucky to be […]
November 25, 2008 at 7:43 am
Next week they’re laying off at least 55 people at my workplace, maybe as many as 97. The news was announced a couple weeks ago and since then morale has been as high as the stock market. There are rumors and speculation over who will get axed, but mostly there is gallows humor and the unanswered question, “If I get fired, do I still get to go to the Christmas party?”
I’ve heard that at least one person in my department of nine people will probably be let go, maybe more. If it’s me, I hope I don’t cry, or that I can at least hold my tears until I reach the parking garage and can blow mucus into the napkins I store in my car to clean up messes like these. If it’s one of my coworkers, it will be strange and awkward and sad and I won’t know what to say or what to feel. Everyone here does their job well. There is just not enough money to pay everyone.
I read the news on […]
October 20, 2008 at 9:18 am
I was standing on an unfamiliar porch, holding a stuffed animal from a Maurice Sendak children’s book, when I saw a man smoking a substance I wasn’t entirely sure was legal walk around the corner half a block away. He was black, so the fear I suddenly felt made me feel like a racist white girl. Sure, I was in a questionably safe part of town and, sure, his manner of dress and body language would have provoked suspicion even if he was white, but he wasn’t white. He was black, and when I’m scared of black men I feel racist even if my fear is justified.
I’d taken the Wild Thing with me on my trip to North Carolina for my friend Elise’s blog project, Where the Wild Thing Is. All I had to do was pose the adorably scary creature amongst local landmarks, snap a picture, and submit a journal entry. I had to return the plushie before the weekend so he could travel to some other semi-exotic locale. Elise kindly emailed me […]