Over the weekend, the weather turned windy, cold, and stormy. As the rain beat on my windows, I looked in the direction of my KitchenAid mixer and felt a compelling urge to spend my afternoon baking cookies. I had all the ingredients for one of my favorite recipes, Mint Chocolate Cookies, so I decided that I would make those since they are tasty and baking them didn’t require me to first go out and buy supplies (note to self: stock up on baking supplies now that the weather is going to be cold and this urge is going to strike me on random Saturday afternoons).
I like this recipe because it’s extremely easy and yet absolutely delicious. I am a huge fan of all things mint and chocolate, so these cookies combine those tastes into one tasty treat.
To create Mint Chocolate Cookies, you’ll need:
 
2 3/4 cup flour
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1 cup unsalted butter (at room temperature)
1 1/2 cup sugar
1 egg
1 tsp mint extract
15-20 drops green food coloring
1 bag of Andes mints (chopped)

 
Preheat oven 375 degrees.  Sift the dry ingredients (flour, baking soda, baking powder and salt) together and set aside.
 

 
Unwrap and chop your Andes mints. If you have little minions (aka children), this is the perfect part to have them help with.
 

 
In a large bowl (I did this part directly into my mixer’s bowl), cream together  the butter and sugar until smooth. Beat in egg and mint extract. Gradually  blend in the dry ingredients. Add green food coloring and mix until even colored.  Last, but not least, fold in the chopped Andes mints.
Roll rounded teaspoonfuls of dough into  balls (you may need to shape with your hands), flatten, and place onto ungreased cookie sheets. Bake for 8-10 minutes.
 


 
And now I leave you with the hardest part….not eating every single cookie in one sitting!
 
 
Original recipe can be viewed at http://craftyc0rn3r.blogspot.com/2012/09/mint-chocolate-cookies.html.

Sunday was my ten-year anniversary with the phone company. In some ways it feels that the last ten years have just flown by, but then on the other hand, they have been a journey, a long road of my evolution from a 19-year-old taking a job just to have full-time employment to a 29-year-old with a family and a career.
The first time I walked into the directory assistance (otherwise known as 411) call center, I had no idea what to expect. My personal life was in chaos: I had gotten separated and moved back in with my parents, I was broke, and I had no idea what the future held. I took the job because it paid more than my last job as a grocery store cashier. What I didn’t plan on was sticking around long enough for the job to turn into a career, or to meet people that are still in my life today – good friends, including my best friend forever and ever, Keri, and of course Paul, the man who I would go on to spend almost a decade of my life with. No, I didn’t plan any of that, but I am so fortunate that it all happened. And today, I thought it would be appropriate to reflect back on my career thus far.
At first, working in 411 was challenging. I mastered the job itself fairly quickly. In all honesty, there isn’t that much to it – you search a directory using key words to find listings. I was in training for two weeks to learn the most effective searching techniques, and then I was on my own. The hard part was that for about the first year that I worked there, my schedule was erratic and demanding. The call center was busy all the time, so we were scheduled for six-day weeks. Since the center was open seven days a week, I would routinely be scheduled for Monday through Saturday one week, followed by Sunday through Friday the following week….meaning that I was working twelve days straight with no day off. And the shifts themselves were split shifts, which meant I’d go in for four hours in the morning, have a three to four hour break in the middle, and then go back for another four hours of work at night. Eventually I couldn’t take it anymore, and when I started dating Paul I switched to a night shift so that I could avoid split shifts. But it got better, and gradually the overtime was reduced. The simplicity of the work left me bored most days, but I had a very encouraging boss (thank you, Josh!) who supported me and helped me to find a place in the center’s leadership program, where I got to help out with training new hire classes and schedule management. I even helped out with training a whole new computer system when the center upgraded to a new platform.
I’d made a good start in 411, but after a couple of years at it, I was ready to move on to different things. In the spring of 2006, I applied for a transfer to the sales and billing center, known as the CSSC. I interviewed and was offered a position there, and my training started on May 1st.  I grew closer to the other people in my training class. The CSSC was different from 411. It was like a little family. My trainer, Diane, was absolutely fabulous and to this day I adore her. I graduated from training on my birthday of that year.
 

 
My Graduating Class, July 14, 2006
In the beginning, I had a lot of success in the CSSC even though I was never much of a salesperson. In 2007 I won multiple sales awards, including Diamond Club for being one of the top salespeople for the year. On Valentine’s Day, 2008, I received the award, and then was whisked away in a limo for a celebratory lunch. It was one of the coolest career experiences I’ve ever had to date.
 

 
Me in the sales center, circa 2009
After that, I didn’t really have the kind of success that I’d had in 2007, in part because I decided to become a union steward. This meant that I was in meetings and away from the phones, and subsequently did not make impressive sales numbers. Whether or not I was a top seller, my coaches – first Kris, and then Davena and Roo – were very supportive and encouraging of everything I did, including when I applied for a transfer from California to Washington. The transfer was approved, and on April 12, 2010, I started my first day at the CSSC in Washington.
This was a big change for me, career-wise. I had known that the Northwest was being sold from one company to another, so my employer was going to change in July of 2010. But what I wasn’t prepared for was that I would be exposed to opportunities I never could have dreamed of in Washington. To be honest, by the time I started in Everett, I was beyond burned out on the sales position. I didn’t like the aggressive sales tactics, the constant badgering to perform, the monitoring of my calls, my bathroom breaks, EVERYTHING. I was sick of being on the leash that was my headset. And just when I had about had enough and was beginning to think of jumping ship, I was brought onto a six-month special project known as the Jeopardy Desk.
Basically, I was given an offline position, away from sales, in which I assisted in making sure that orders for services actually made it to the point that they were installed. It was August 2010, and the new company was just getting its feet wet in the Northwest. The company assembled a group of technicians, sales representatives, technical support reps, and contractors to make reminder calls to customers who had pending installations. The whole idea was to make sure that orders were written correctly and made it through installation. If a customer wanted to make changes once the tech got to their house, the tech would call my group and we would make the requested adjustments to the order. If an order was missed, we called to reschedule. Those of us that worked on the Jeop Desk became a close-knit group, and we had a lot of fun together.

 
The Jeop Desk, Halloween 2010
I absolutely loved my job on the Jeop Desk, and I learned so much during that special project. But I had known from the beginning that there was an expiration date on my happiness, a date when I would have to go back to what I now viewed as the drudgery of being on the phones, selling all day. Not wanting it to end, we began campaigning to make the Jeop Desk a permanent position. My coworker Bob and I fought especially hard, and although we didn’t succeed at saving the Jeop Desk, we did get ourselves noticed, and one morning I got a call at home from Doug, the man who would become my boss, offering me a job on his newly-forming Customer Relations team. He explained that he had been offered the new job as manager of Customer Relations, that he was assembling a team, and that he would like me to come to work for him. After I calmly told him that I was honored and would absolutely accept, I hung up the phone and jumped up and down out of pure excitement and happiness. And so, on April 1st, 2011, I joined the work group that I am now with.

Everett Customer Relations
I’ve been in my current position for about two and a half years now, and I love it. Most days, I can expect to come to work and learn something new. My coworkers are some of the best people I know, and even though we spend our days addressing complaints, we have fun together and the atmosphere is generally light and fun.
Although I’ve moved around to different departments in the past, I truly feel like I’ve found my niche in this position and have no plans of going anywhere else. With any luck, I’ll be able to post an update in another ten years.

We all have our own interpretations of what success is, and where we will need to be in our lives in order to declare achievement of it. For some, success may be a desired career, or for others, a beautiful family or nice house. No matter what our idea of success, we will spend a lifetime chasing it, hoping to achieve it and bask in it. We will make goals for ourselves that are centered around our journey to success. We covet it.
I do know people who have achieved success under their own definitions of it. Their lives do not always appear perfect to me, but they seem well-satisfied in what they have, and that is the whole point, right? I have a great deal of admiration for those that have achieved success and I look up to them for being able to do so. I look to them for guidance as I work diligently toward the things that I believe will define me as being a success myself – for me, this would mean being financially comfortable if not well-off, happy in my family, my friends, and my career. There are material possessions that I feel I must have, such as my own home, to be considered successful.
I would think that the best way to achieve the success that you want would be to seek out those who have achieved it, so that you can be surrounded by the power of positive suggestion as well as to have a reminder of what you want. It troubles me that all too often, quite the opposite is true: people seek out the person that has achieved their coveted success, not for guidance but to tear that person down. It’s the if-I-can’t-have-this-nobody-can mentality.
According to a recent study, people who use Facebook feel less happy than those who don’t. The reason? According to John Jonides, a University of Michigan cognitive neuroscientist, it’s because people are more likely to compare themselves to others while scrolling through their news feed. While I definitely understand social comparisons, all this data was depressing to me. Sure, when I check Facebook I see a long list of people getting married, having babies, sending kids to first days of school, and even doing things that I wish I myself was doing, like traveling or buying a first home. But seeing these things compels me to first congratulate that person and then seek their advice on how they did it, so that maybe I can get some helpful tips for achieving my own goals. But I’ve talked to friends who have posted milestones on Facebook, only to have others try and tear them down or make them feel unsure in what they’re working toward. Not only is that a pretty good indication to me that the naysayer is NOT a friend and needs to be deleted on Facebook immediately, but it also shows that there’s a mentality in our society that advocates tearing those down that you feel you cannot rise up to meet.
Although it sounds appalling, more likely than not you’ve experienced it firsthand. I know I have, when someone I regarded as a friend took it upon herself to make unsolicited criticisms about my relationship with my boyfriend. She didn’t have any concrete information to validate her opinions, she just tried to tear me down because she could. Although for a long time I tried to just forgive her and move past it, ultimately I admitted to myself that I couldn’t and cut ties with her. I don’t have time to have that kind of negativity in my life. None of us do.
In the wake of this line of thinking, I must add to my list of things that I feel make me personally a success. I hope to be a kind person, one who genuinely shares in the joys of others. I hope that when it’s my turn to experience an achievement, that those I have surrounded myself with will be right there with me to be happy for me.
 

Hello there, little blog. It’s been far too long since I’ve written. For some reason, I’ve had complete writer’s block when it comes to this blog (blogger’s block?). Now summer is drawing to a close and the first whispers of fall are in the air.
The best way to push through writer’s block is to write, so here I am, and I figured I could break the metaphorical ice by writing a little update about the goings-on in my life over the last few weeks.
I Was Bitten By A Cat
My sweet kitty Darwin bit me on the hand repeatedly as I attempted to give him a shot. It wasn’t his fault – I had restrained him and he got scared, and he only bit me because he could not run away from me – but the injury left me unable to use my left hand up until a few days ago. I had to keep my hand in a splint, wrapped with an Ace bandage. I was taking antibiotics that give me terrible headaches and at times make me sick to my stomach. I missed work for nearly a week, spending my days recuperating on the couch.
I was bitten on a Saturday, and didn’t go to urgent care for treatment until Sunday. Please, don’t do this. If you are bitten by an animal and suffer actual puncture wounds, go get checked out right away. Animal bites are nasty things. Left untreated, they can develop dangerous infections. I received a tetanus shot and antibiotics, and even with all that, I still developed an infection in my bite wounds and had to be prescribed a second antibiotic to supplement what I was already taking. I also had to have X-rays – at times, a part of the animal’s tooth can be broken off when they bite, and if you have a tiny piece of tooth embedded in your wound, it will never heal. One of the doctors who treated me told me a scary story about a woman who was bitten on the hand by a cat, and developed a severe infection that required hospitalization. So, even though it might seem like a huge inconvenience to go to urgent care or the Emergency Room for what you think is just a minor wound, go anyway. I’m grateful that a couple of friends of mine urged me to seek medical treatment, because my situation could have been a LOT worse if I’d persisted in trying to tough it out on my own. Bite wounds are no joke.
Thankfully after a week I started to really feel better, and my hand is on the mend. I have had an absolutely wonderful week so far, which may be due in part to my get-well present to myself. Which leads me to my next bit of life news….
I Bought A New Car
Second only to my reputation of being a cat lady is my reputation for trading cars. What can I say? I spend a lot of time in my car, and a new one is always so much fun! This time, I feel that I really treated myself to an indulgence. My latest vehicle is a 2009 Infiniti G37x, a beautiful, sleek car with 330 horsepower and enough technology features that I still haven’t quite figured out what all the buttons do!

In short, this car is AWESOME. I love everything about it. It’s comfortable. It’s a blast to drive. Friends have told me that it suits me, and I quite agree. Yesterday I had a particularly frustrating afternoon, and was in a sour mood. But once I got into my car to head home, I found myself feeling more relaxed and happy.
I Started Fall Semester
Yes, college is back in session, so I am hitting the books. I doubled my course load this semester (doesn’t that sound WAY cooler than saying I’m taking two classes instead of one?), and I’m finding the increased amount of work challenging. I’m grateful for the opportunity to go to school and feel incredibly fortunate that my employer pays for my tuition. But it’s difficult trying to go to school while working full time. Sometimes I get very discouraged, because I am super busy trying to keep up with everything and yet I’m plodding along toward my degree at a snail’s pace. But I’m determined to keep going, even when I get depressed at how long this is taking. I keep reminding myself it’ll be worth it in the end.
So That’s Where I’ve Been…What’s Next?
September is going to be a very busy month for me. Paul’s parents are coming for a visit,  and Paul and my sister have birthdays this month. I’m heading to Vegas for my cousin’s 40th birthday, and I’ll be celebrating my ten-year work anniversary. I’m really excited for all the fun plans we have in the next few weeks!
 
 

Recently, a very close friend of mine was bullied at the gym. She was in a workout class, and the woman behind her insisted that she move aside because “you’re too tall and I can’t see over you”. And of course, having someone twice her age calling attention to her size really bothered my friend. When I found out about it, I was pissed off and could barely keep myself from marching over to that woman and telling her off. I didn’t find out until later that this had been going on for awhile, and it both enraged me and made me sad. When class started, I planted myself smack in the middle of the front row, my friend next to me. The woman urged us to move to the side, whispering over and over “Scoot down, scoot down!”
“No,” I said flatly. “We’re not ‘scooting down’.”
Why is this kind of thing still happening? I felt like I was back in middle school, being ordered to leave a certain lunch table because that was where all the popular girls sat (I was new to the school and had no clue where it was and was not acceptable to sit). I’ll never forget the shame I felt as the cool clique tried to force me to sit on the steps with the only girl less popular than I was, saying to me, “We think you should be friends with her, since nobody likes her either.” Thanks, you little twats. Scarred for life, I commenced eating lunch in the library every day until I made some friends and felt safe eating with the masses again. My only crime was being the new girl, but that single incident set me up for all sorts of teenage insecurities that I could have very well done without.
I was twelve when the lunch incident happened. At twelve, I was certainly not confident enough to tell an entire table of my peers to go fuck themselves. But I’m twenty-nine now, and I won’t put up with being bullied – and I won’t stand by when it happens to my friends, either.
Maybe I was wrong, but I seriously thought things had changed. I’ve seen all these Anti-Bullying campaigns and harsh penalties for kids that pick on their peers., and I thought that it was more or less socially unacceptable to be a jackhole to someone simply because they’re different than you. So I have no idea why the incident at the gym occurred, or how that woman felt that there was nothing wrong with bashing my friend for her height. I don’t understand every time one of my thin friends is told to skip the gym and eat a cheeseburger. I don’t understand why some anonymous person commented on my friend Kate’s blog and asked her whether she was too fat to write a fashion blog. I’m not saying I’m a saint and that I’m never critical of anyone, but I really try to refrain from making ANY judgments based on appearance. And that goes twofold at the gym, where people are coming to improve themselves. The last thing someone needs when they’re trying to make healthy changes is to feel like they’re unwelcome or judged when they go to the gym. I remember when I used to work out at Curves, and there was a woman who must have weighed at least 500 pounds. Every evening when I got to the gym, she was there, doing her workout. I remember how hard it was for her to settle herself at the machines, how she had to go much more slowly than the rest of us. But mostly I remember her because she was there, doing it. She was making an effort to be healthier. I don’t know what in her life caused her to be that heavy, but I do know that I had nothing but admiration for her because she was trying to change things. She could have easily gone and had weight-loss surgery, but she didn’t, she chose instead to go to the gym and do it on her own. She was amazing. If anyone had ever made fun of her or said something cruel to her, I would have been outraged.
To anyone who reads this, I hope nothing like this ever happens to you. I hope no one ever makes an unkind remark to you about your looks, at a gym or anywhere else. If it does happen at the gym, my advice would be to let the instructor know what’s going on. You deserve to be comfortable and to have a good time with your workout. And if it happens out on the street, I would say the best course of action would be to trip the asshole that said something mean to you. Just make sure it looks like an accident.

Since the beginning of the year, I’ve been sporting pretty much the same look: long, blunt-cut blonde hair. Then lately, I just hit a wall with my hair. Maybe it was because I’ve just turned 29 and was ready to start off a new year of my life with a change, or maybe I was just bored, but I decided I needed a hair makeover.
The last time I got my hair cut, I discovered Savvy Hair Studio in Marysville and fell in love with them. At the time I was just in for a trim, but was super impressed by how nice and knowledgeable all the stylists were, how relaxing the vibe was in the salon, and how pretty my hair turned out. Plus, the salon’s owner also owns Vinaccio Coffee in the same lot, and salon patrons are treated to free coffee while they receive their services, and a gift card for half the amount they spend on their salon visit. What’s not to love?
I made a hair appointment for last Sunday, scheduling myself for a cut. I thought it might be nice to get some layering in the front of my hair, especially since my long hair was heavy for summer. I had also been playing with the idea of going back to red hair, but hadn’t made any concrete decisions. Then, as I drove to the salon, I decided I wanted to go for it. Luckily, my stylist Nicole had time, and she expertly colored, cut, and styled my hair into what I thought was perfection!

 
I feel amazing with my new hair! After having a bleachy blonde color for so long, the darker red feels a bit drastic, but not overwhelming. I love how the color matches my skin tone (I’m so pale and freckly, red hair looks very natural!), and I think the red brings out the greener tones in my hazel eyes.
Although most of the makeup colors I wear will work well with either red or blonde hair, I had seen some pictures of actress Lauren Ambrose wearing a peachy-colored lipstick that looked great with her red hair, so I decided to give that color a try. I picked up a Revlon Super Lustrous in Smoked Peach ($6.39 on drugstore.com), and paired it with just a hint of lip gloss. I kept my usual eyeshadow routine (I like a matte brown shadow and brown eyeliner), and I think the look turned out great!
I feel absolutely beautiful with my new look and I definitely feel more confident with it! It’s amazing how much a little thing like a new hairstyle can make me feel so fabulous! For all my Washington friends, if you want to refresh your look or get a whole new style, I definitely urge you to check out Savvy Hair Studio. They will make sure you leave happy and feeling like a million dollars!

Yesterday was my 29th birthday. Hard to believe that I’m beginning the last year of the second decade of my life, that the much-hyped “30” is looming only 364 days ahead of me.
There are a couple cool things about my birthday. The first is that the date I was born, 7/14/84, is comprised all of numbers that are divisible by 7. Not surprisingly, 7 has always been my lucky number. The other really neat thing about my birthday, and the thing that is most special to me, is that I get to share my birthday with my wonderful Dad. I love that we get to share our birthday and have some awesome memories of growing up and spending the day together. My mom always took special care to make sure that we were each spoiled on our birthdays – when I was little, she even made two different birthday cakes! In fact, one of the things that made me saddest when I contemplated a move out of state was the possibility that I wouldn’t get to spend birthdays with Dad anymore. Happily, this birthday was my fourth since I’ve been away, and even if we haven’t been together on the exact date, my parents and I have gotten to see each other every year since I left.
This year, Mom and Dad flew up for a long weekend of some Seattle sun and fun a few days before mine and Dad’s birthday. We had a really nice time, enjoying breakfast together at Lowell’s at Pike Place Market, taking an Argosy Cruise through the Hiram M. Chittenden Locks (if you’ve never done this, I highly recommend it! So much fun and so informative!), and enjoying the sights on Whidbey Island, including a trip to Fort Casey and Deception Pass. In between exploring expeditions, we ate way too much, visiting some of our favorite Northwest restaurants like Anthony’s and Ray’s Boathouse, in addition to enjoying some backyard grilling and Paul’s very famous steaks. I think summertime is the best time of year for people to visit the Northwest. It’s so beautiful, they can’t help but fall in love!

 
At the Argosy Cruise
Another great thing about the Northwest is that I live much closer to my cousins, who live only a few hours away near Vancouver. We were able to get together last weekend for a birthday lunch and pedicures, and had a great time. I’ve really connected with my cousins since moving to Washington, and they’re now among the most special people in my life. My cousin Caitlyn couldn’t make it to lunch, but she sent me a beautiful card and the most adorable drawing of a cat, which is now in my cubicle at work where I can see it every day and smile.
 
                          Pretty Toes
Yesterday was my actual birthday. I knew the moment I woke up what I wanted to do first: I called Dad, and we swapped stories of plans for the day and talked for awhile. I was a little sad that I wasn’t going to be there for the birthday party he was having with the rest of my family that day (Mom made her famous potato salad AND an ice cream cake! I confess, I almost hopped a plane to California!).
Paul made sure I had a spectacular day. We went to Blazing Onion for lunch, as my main requirement was that I wanted to eat somewhere that had a patio so we could sit in the sun while we ate. After lunch, we spent a leisurely afternoon in the backyard, soaking up the sun. In the evening, Paul took me out for a nice dinner at Arnie’s, a seafood restaurant in Edmonds. I honestly don’t think I could ever get tired of seafood! Paul and I had never been to Arnie’s, and after our dinner there I would definitely go back. The food was delicious and the service was very attentive. We finished off the evening with chocolate mint cupcakes that Paul brought home from Simply Sweet Cupcakes, my very favorite  cupcake bakery in Washington.
Today, I came into work to find adorable desk decorations arranged for me by my boss. Since my coworker and friend Bob also shares my birthday, he had decorations of his own waiting for him. We got to work, and mid-morning I received a call from the front desk that there was something waiting for me. My wonderful friend Kate sent me a bouquet of flowers for my birthday! She knows how much I like receiving flowers and she’s out of town for work, so she made sure I still had something special (hurry back anyways, Kate. It’s lonely without you!).
Over the last week, I’ve also received birthday presents and cards, sweet text messages, and thoughtful Facebook posts, wishing me a happy birthday. For everyone who thought of me, thank you so much. You have no idea how much your love means to me and how happy it has made me feel!
Thank you to all my wonderful family and friends for making my birthday so special; for all the thoughtful gifts, for the time spent together, for the lovely birthday wishes!
 

I wrote this post awhile back, but when I wrote it I didn’t intend to publish it or share it. It was just for me, to express relief over finally finding a new level of self-acceptance that I didn’t even know that I was looking for. I decided to share it now not just because I’m in a much better place, but because I think it could be a benefit to others that may stumble across my blog. 
Internal monologue, also known as interior monologue, inner voice, internal speech, or stream of consciousness is thinking in words. It also refers to the semi-constant internal monologue one has with oneself at a conscious or semi-conscious level.
–Wikipedia
I don’t know why, but I never really considered my thought process to be an inner monologue, although of course it is just that. My thought process is a stream of narration from an inner voice, one that internally comments on everything I see and hear. And I have to admit, the narrator of my inner monologue is something of a critical bitch. She seldom has anything nice to say to me about anything. “See that girl?” she hisses in my ear. “That girl is prettier than you, and smarter, and more successful. You will never be that good.”
For years, this has been my reality. My day to day life was fraught with harsh self-criticisms that at some point, I lost all perspective on. They were so ingrained in my psyche that I didn’t even consciously examine them, just accepted them for truth and fought a never-ending battle to try to change them. Never mind that no matter who I became, they never DID change. It was a constant cycle of me working my ass off to be successful enough, smart enough, thin enough….GOOD enough. But because the dialogue never changed, it didn’t matter how much I as a person changed – the criticisms were still there. And frankly, that’s an exhausting existence.
After becoming aware of the concept of the inner monologue, I then had the consciousness that I could change mine. The next morning when I was getting ready for work, my Inner Narrator began her typical running commentary on how I didn’t look good, my clothes didn’t fit right, and I would be worse than all the rest today, so why bother trying in the first place. For the very first time, I had a shocking revelation: no one has EVER said things like that to me. For the first time, I could actually see that I didn’t have negative ideas about myself because other people had planted them in my head. I had them because I had repeatedly said those things internally about myself. 
Recognizing that you have an unhealthy internal monologue is one thing. Changing that unhealthy internal monologue is an entirely different undertaking, and not nearly as easy as the realization of its existance. I’m retraining my mind after years of detrimental thoughts. When that Inner Narrator hisses at me, “You look really fat today,” I am learning to roll my eyes at her and say, “No, I don’t. Shut up. I’m just fine today.” The whole process reminds me of a part of the movie ‘The Help’, when kindly maid Aibileen is telling her charge Mae Mobley You is kind, you is smart, you is important, and teaching the child to repeat it back about herself. The idea behind that exercise was to instill in the little girl a sense of self-worth, and to help her develop a positive inner monologue. Perhaps we all ought to recite these things to ourselves.
Does the Inner Narrator still get to me? Sometimes, yes, absolutely she does. She’s got a knack for sensing insecurities and preying on them. The important thing is learning to dismiss negative thoughts and to ultimately replace them with positive ones. I will say that since I’ve embarked on this change in thought process, I’ve noticed a change in my internal monologue. I’m steering it to a more positive place, one where Inner Narrator and I will ultimately be able to coexist peacefully.

Over the last few weeks, for the most part I’ve tried to keep my blog posts to the fluffy, upbeat variety. There’s nothing wrong with that type of writing, but a lot of my reasoning behind it was that I was dealing with some not-so-fun stuff and have been feeling pretty wrung out. Now that I’ve seemingly come through to the other side of my recent difficulties, I feel like I can be open about what I’ve experienced and what I’ve taken away from it.
“Be kinder than necessary, for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.”  -Unknown
Ever have a situation that starts unremarkably enough, but then snowballs? That was what happened with my oldest cat, Angel. One morning I was playing with her, and noticed a strange-looking growth coming out of her paw pad, curving upward toward her claw. I’d never seen anything like it, and although I wasn’t terribly concerned, I did want to get it checked out. I did some research on the Internets and was fairly confident that she had what’s called a Horned Paw Pad. According to what I read, if that was all the growth was then it could be trimmed with kitty nail clippers to keep it from bothering her. But since I didn’t know for sure, I made an appointment to have her seen by the vet.
The vet confirmed my suspicions: Angel’s growth was a horned paw pad. She demonstrated for me how to keep it trimmed, and that should have been that. But as she looked over my kitty, she also noticed that Angel was showing signs of gum disease, and may need to have as many as two teeth extracted. So we made an appointment for Angel to have pre-op blood work followed by a dental cleaning (cats are put under anesthetic for dental procedures). The blood work was recommended due to Angel’s age (she’s eleven), and even though it was optional, I agreed to have it done, just because of the slim chance that something could go wrong in surgery. So this led to a second trip to the vet to have her blood drawn, and then the main event, the morning of her surgery. The plan for the morning was simple: I’d drop Angel off and go to work, and then pick her up in the evening. But in my life, things seldom go as planned, and this was no exception. The vet explained to me that Angel’s blood work had revealed a slight abnormality in her kidney function, which was cause for enough concern to hold my kitty overnight after her surgery to administer post-op fluids and monitor her, as well as to run more tests. Although I wasn’t really happy not to have my girl overnight, I agreed, and I managed to make it out to my car and drive to work without crying or getting too upset. I’m trying to learn not to freak out until I have a reason to, and at that point, I didn’t know anything. I arranged to take the next day off from work so that I could pick up Angel and stay home with her since she was going to be pretty unhappy post-surgery.
Angel’s vet stay had mixed results: happily, she went through surgery well, and more tests revealed that her kidney function may just be slightly lower than is considered “normal” in cats. She’ll have another test in a few months just to make sure her levels are staying, well, level. On the gum disease front, the news wasn’t as good: she ended up having a total of seven teeth extracted. All things considered, she did great, and she’s now fully recovered and her normal happy self. Missing some of her teeth doesn’t seem to daunt her whatsoever.
 

 
I would do anything for this girl. 
Here’s the thing about trips to the vet: they’re expensive. I knew when I adopted cats that there was a chance that over time they’d have medical issues, and I’ll gladly pay whatever I need to in order to keep my babies happy and healthy. I will never begrudge one of my pets the cost of their vet bills. But it IS costly, and without another thought to it I charged all of Angel’s medical treatments to my credit card with the plan of paying off the balance when I got my paycheck. So imagine my shock when I checked my bank account and realized that my paycheck was $1200 short of what it should have been. Again, no reason to panic until I know what’s going on, and I absolutely assumed that my missing money was an annoying payroll error that I could have corrected.
Never assume. Never, never, never.
My shortened paycheck was actually my company’s way of notifying me that a portion of my pay was going to be calculated differently, which, long story short, translates into my being paid $1200 less per month. I was upset about the change and outraged that no one had the courtesy to notify me or my boss that this was going to happen. All I could think about was the balance on my credit card for vet bills that I had slated that $1200 for and now wouldn’t be getting.
Ultimately the higher-ups did agree that it was a lousy way to handle things, and I am being paid on my normal scale until July, when the new pay rate kicks in. If there’s a silver lining to all of this, it’s that I have had a huge wake-up call to pay more attention to how much I’m spending and to budget my money better. I’ve made a lot of financial changes to my life, some that bum me out (like not getting my nails done). But I know this will help me to be better off in the long run. Overnight, my priorities when it came to spending changed dramatically.
I admit, in the aftermath of all this, I’ve been pretty down (hence the reason for fluff blog posts….not that I think those are bad). But I’m slowly finding the good in my new reality. Like in the mornings when Angel comes into the bathroom to “help” me get ready for work, when she meows and chatters at me, when she hogs my pillow at night, I’m just so grateful to see her healthy and back to her old self again. My family and friends have rallied around me and supported me, even when I’m sure I’ve sounded like a broken record complaining about things, and the love I’ve felt is overwhelming. No one seems to care if I don’t have the money to pick up the tab for lunch or go out anymore. In fact, one of the best days I’ve had lately was last Sunday, when Paul and I just stayed home and lounged in the backyard and had a lazy afternoon together. And I know there are people out there who have it much, much worse than me, like the sweet girl I work with who just lost her sister in a car accident. Compared to her, I have it easy, and no doubt she’d give anything to trade places with me.
“You never know how truly blessed you are in life until you see someone who has it worse than you.”  -Unknown
So I’ll take the good with the bad, and I am grateful that my loved ones are happy and (once again) healthy. I know that a time will come with my beloved kitties when the story isn’t going to end happily ever after, and I’m just thankful that this time, it did.
“Let’s not allow ourselves to be upset by small things we should despise and forget. Remember ‘Life is too short to be little’” –– Dale Carnegie

At the beginning of this year, I finally found the motivation to return to college in pursuit of my Bachelor’s degree (I earned my Associate’s back in 2010). When I enrolled at WSU, I imagined the proud day when I would finally graduate and declare triumphantly that I had beaten the odds and finished college.
Up til now, all of my online courses have allowed for open-book exams that I could take at home. But this semester, I’m enrolled in a business law class which required me to actually take a closed-book, proctored exam (basically, I had to take the test in front of a certified supervisor to ensure that I didn’t cheat). This was a first for me: I’ve never taken a proctored exam before and I haven’t taken a test that wasn’t open-book (and open-Google!) in about ten years. I studied for hours but still felt unprepared, and as I left work to take the test last night, I was incredibly nervous.
I had scheduled my proctored exam at Everett Community College, the approved location that was closest to my office. As I drove onto the campus, I saw the stereotypical college scenes: students walking along, carrying books and laughing together, perfectly manicured lawns, and a plethora of parking spaces that were reserved and threatened fines and tow-aways if non-special people like me dared park there (that part of college campuses, I do not miss). I was early and had loads of time to drive around until I finally located visitor parking. I paid for my one-day parking pass and gathered up my notebook and purse to go in and take my test.
The exam itself was easy enough. I chose a computer that faced a window, and when I needed a moment to collect my thoughts, I looked out at the campus. The tall brick buildings, the sidewalks lined with leafy trees…this reminded me a lot of my community college days.
I only attended community college full-time for one semester, right out of high school. Although I had hated high school for the most part, I loved college. I loved getting to campus early and meeting friends for coffee in the student center. I loved the professors who weren’t just talking to drones of students who had no choice but to be there, but were teaching adults who were choosing to attend the classes. I loved the instruction I got, especially from my English professors, who encouraged me wholeheartedly to write. While I admit that I skipped my fair share of classes, I did incredibly well that first semester, and ended up with a high GPA and a place of honor on the Dean’s list.
Then, over the winter break, my life changed drastically. I found myself moving out of my parents’ house, changing jobs, and getting married, none of which was conducive to continuing life as a full-time college student. I couldn’t really afford classes and I no longer had a work schedule that was flexible enough to allow me to go.
I did try to go back, a year later. I took a night class at the school during spring semester, but then over the summer, my world changed drastically again when I filed for divorce. I dropped out of college yet again, and that time I stayed dropped out until 2008, when my coworkers clued me into the benefits of company-provided tuition assistance as they started attending University of Phoenix. I followed suit and completed my final classes for my Associate’s degree over a year and a half. I tried to stick with the program and continue for my Bachelor’s degree, but I disliked the format of UoP’s Bachelor program (it’s not a bad program really, but there are a lot of group assignments, which I didn’t enjoy and found difficult to do with much success in an online environment). After a couple classes, I called it quits.
I knew I needed to find another program, but I enjoyed working full-time without the hassles of trying to complete college coursework at the same time. I was getting good opportunities to try new things that I liked at work, so I lost some of the drive to finish school that I had when I was working as an online rep in a call center. Which is how I ended up here, today, nearly twenty-nine years old and still in college.
I thought about all of that as I paid the proctor for monitoring my exam and walked back to my car. I slowly drove off campus, being flooded again with the sight of students walking to and from class on the campus. They had no idea how much I envied them in that moment, those lucky students who were able to attend class IN CLASS instead of via the Internet, who could go on campus and have the college experience. I fought back a sudden urge to cry as I looked at my own life and realized what a disservice I had done to myself when I quit taking advantage of the opportunity I’d had to be one of those students. I know I will never get to have that life now, and I know that I’ll most likely be in my mid-thirties by the time I can finish my degree.
For the most part, I’m at peace with the choices I’ve made thus far in my life, good and bad. Every single step I’ve taken has led me to where I am now, and overall I love my life. It’s true that I have no idea where I would be  if I had chosen a different path and continued college, and that I wouldn’t necessarily be happier than I am now. But for a moment last night, I vividly remembered moments on campus during that first semester that I attended college, and I ached for that happy time.
I’m not exactly sure why my visit to campus yesterday affected me so deeply, but even today the melancholy feeling that I’d made a terrible mistake clung to me. There’s really nothing I can do but live with the regret, and remember that feeling so that I continue to push myself. If I can stay committed to college this time, and finally graduate, then maybe I’ll be able to find peace with the mistakes that I made.