Success:

To laugh often and much;
To win the respect of intelligent people
and the affection of children;
To earn the appreciation of honest critics
and endure the betrayal of false friends;
To appreciate beauty;
To find the best in others;
To leave the world a bit better,
whether by a healthy child,
a garden patch, or a redeemed
social condition;
To know even on life has breathed easier
because you have lived;
This is to have succeeded.

~Ralph Waldo Emerson

"The Simple Faith"

Before me, even as behind,
God is, and all is well.

~John Greenleaf Whittier

Mental Health Day

I just love Mental Health Days! That is to say, I love my mental health. Which is why after only one day in the first circle of hell... I mean... at the office... I told my boss that I was taking a Mental Health Day today.

I was kind of shocked really. He didn't ask for a full itinerary of my plans for the day or three methods of communication on the off chance they needed to contact me. He didn't remind me to put up my "Where Are You" sign. He didn't even ask me why I needed the day off or tell me to "coordinate my daily tasks with my A/P partner to make sure everything is covered" like he does with everyone else. He just said, "sounds good" and told me to have a good day. Okay, who are you, and what have you done with Anal-Retentive Timeclock Nazi?!?

I suppose in all fairness, the last time I told him that I was taking a Mental Health Day, he did ask me if everything was okay. I burst into uncontrollable tears and wailed, "I JUST NEED A FREAKIN' DAY OFF, OKAY?!?" This was before my shrink got my medications regulated and I was borderline checking into the loony bin. So yeah... I can see where he might have been having flashbacks of Bipolar Girl and didn't want to relive that wonderful moment in our working relationship. But still... After recent events at the office, his eagerness to let me leave had me slightly suspicious. I have my theories, of course...

• He's adding up my demerits so he can fire me or demote me upon my return. They seem to do that quite a bit up there. I know of several people who came back to the office after being out who were either fired for failure to pre-plan their illnesses, or who came back from vacation only to discover someone else sitting in their desk and to learn that they were now part of the janitorial staff.

• Perhaps Bipolar Girl is rearing her head more prominently than I realize and he's frightened of me. Sure, I'm only 5'1" and a good foot shorter than he is, but Bipolar Girl is scary. She goes from crying hysterically over her flat Diet Coke to severe rage that someone is looking at her for crying to laughing uncontrollably at her irrational behavior... all within a matter of seconds. So if Bipolar Girl is coming back, I can see where he might want to have me out of shooting distance. :-)

• He respects my "no-nonsense, tell-it-like-I-see-it" approach. (Yeah, right :-) I always tell him exactly what I think, whether he likes what I have to say or not. You'd think it would get me into trouble, but it seems to have the opposite effect. Shoot! Sometimes he even comes to me and asks me what I think! Maybe he respects the fact that I tell him when I'm taking off, rather than asking permission. Why ask permission when I'm going to take the day off no matter what he says? I'd just call in "sick" if he said no, and he knows that. I suppose, rather than lose that battle, he just says "sounds good" so he feels like he made the decision in the end. :-)

Whatever the reason for his completely out-of-character reaction to my demand for a mental health day, I won't worry about it. I'll just lounge around the house in my pj's and enjoy the day. I guess we'll find out tomorrow if I'm still the Accounts Payable Coordinator or if I've been demoted to Towel Girl in the women's restroom. But until then... I'm "mentally-healthy" and feeling gooooood! :-)

The Ultimate Compliment

I'm not one who gets completely awestruck over celebrities or who gets all flustered around public figures. I'm not easily intimidated. You pretty much have to deal with the real me no matter who you are. I call it like I see it, and I will usually say exactly what's on my mind to whoever happens to be there at the time. Granted, that's not always a good thing. I'm kind of shocked I've made it this far in life without having my mouth (or my little typing fingers) get me into serious trouble. I seem to be missing that filter between my brain and my mouth that turns my exact thoughts into something a little more appropriate for the situation at hand before speaking. Just last week I told the entire department (including my unsuspecting male boss) that the underwire popped in my bra and I was being stabbed in delicate, private places. I easily could have just excused myself, saying that I needed to "take care of something." But where's the fun in that?!? I'm all about the shock factor. ;-) To be honest, censoring myself didn't even occur to me until after his jaw hit the floor, his face turned all red, and he started trying to look everywhere except at my chest. And at that point, I was getting such amusement at his expense that there was no way I would have changed it! Bad, Tammy! ;-)

I mention all of this because my reaction to something that happened earlier this week was completely out of character for me and caught me totally off-guard. I logged in the morning after I wrote my latest Random Rambling expanding on my great love of the highlighter and saw that I had some comments to post. That, of course, made me happy. I love comments. After all, what is a blog other than a shameless plea for comments, really? Yeah, yeah... It's a creative outlet for divulging one's innermost thoughts and feelings. Blah, blah, blah... But I like the comments. They give me the warm-fuzzies and make me feel special and important. :-)

My completely out of character, star-struck, crazy reaction came when I saw that I had a comment from "Foster Mama." My heart skipped a beat! NO WAY!!! Surely not the "Foster Mama!" Not "Foster Mama" from Postcards from Insanity "Foster Mama?!?" A friend of mine suggested her blog when I started this whole foster/adopt journey, and I love it! This woman writes the most hilarious stuff I've ever read (not to mention has some great insights and experience in the foster care arena). She's got nearly 79,000 hits on her blog. I clicked on the profile, and sure enough it was her!!! My heart started racing... My hands got all cold and clammy... I nearly started hyperventilating... Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness! "Foster Mama" read my post! "Foster Mama" even liked my post!

After I calmed myself down and my heart rate normalized, I sat in total dismay at my completely ridiculous reaction. Soooo not like me! But for a person who has always secretly desired to make a career out of writing witty emails and short stories, a compliment from "Foster Mama" was like a compliment from Celine Dion to an aspiring singer or one from Angelina Jolie to an aspiring actress. It's official. Just call me a "Foster Mama" groupie, but her comment just made my day! :-)

(P.S. - If you like my sarcastic sense of humor, you'll love "Foster Mama" too. Check out her blog if you want more laughs.)

The Circus Comes to Town...

...and I am staying far, far away!

I feel a little guilty. Children love the circus, and I'm sure my niece and nephew would would be thrilled silly if Aunt Tammy took them. But quite honestly, the circus scares the living crap out of me!

I think my initial hesitation to visit the circus stems from my irrational fear of clowns. I've never been a huge fan of clowns. To be honest, they've always creeped me out a little bit. They wear all of that makeup to cover up their true identities. They play strange games and do weird things. Even as a child, I just didn't get it. But then good old Mr. Stephen King had to go and scare the living CRAP out of grown adults by writing "It," effectively ruining whatever good-natured fun that might have been remaining for the clown-loving community. Small children might still appreciate a good clown or two, but it might traumatize them to see their parents cowering in the fetal position under their chairs or run screaming from the Big Top. Thanks a lot, Mr. King!

 

As if my clown terror alone wasn't enough to keep me away from the circus tents, my fear of falling just adds to it. Some people are afraid of heights. Not me. I am afraid of the sudden stop at the end of the fall. I don't even like to stand on a step stool. It makes me nervous to see other people perched precariously on ladders. So the thought of sitting by helplessly as people walk on a highwire with no safety net or go hurling themselves through the air on the trapeze or doing that crazy "stacking the chairs" thing where they do a handstand at the top... Oh HELL to the no, thank you!!!

Then you've got all of the lions and tigers... Call me crazy, but I have a feeling those animals are pissed. Taking a wild carnivore and making them jump through hoops in front of loud crowds of people... That's just inviting trouble! I wouldn't want to be in that circus tent the day the lions decide they've had enough. Oh, no sir!

In fact, I think the only redeeming quality of the circus is the yummy food. But to be honest, if the twins want cotton candy or roasted peanuts, I'll be more than happy to take them to a baseball game or the State Fair. They have good food there too. ...and you don't have to worry about man-eating animals, a sudden fall to one's death, or psychotic clowns.

Yep, the circus is coming to town... but I am staying far, far away.