Yes, I was feeling fantastic this morning, as I said.

But it didn’t take long for that to change.

And now I’m at home, bundled up in a sweatshirt, buried beneath a pile of blankets and shivering like I live in the Tundra.

Life is just mean, sometimes.

Yes, I was feeling fantastic this morning, as I said.

But it didn’t take long for that to change.

And now I’m at home, bundled up in a sweatshirt, buried beneath a pile of blankets and shivering like I live in the Tundra.

Life is just mean, sometimes.

See how over yesterday I am?

Today is beautiful! We woke up to a 45 degree morning. The windows were open, a gentle breeze soughing our skin, the cats playing chase…it was a perfect morning to snuggle in.

So I asked Fishdog get up and get the kids ready for school. And being the obedient fishdog that he is…he did as I asked. Not without a small argument that it wasn’t really snuggling if he wasn’t in the bed.

Semantics.

This will be a lovely weekend full of yard work, walking, writing, and wine drinking.

Anyone have any big plans they’d like to share?

I try to stay away from work related posts in my blog for a couple of reasons–the main one being that most work related posts would put your ass to sleep. I work in accounting for corn sakes!

Rarely do I have anything to vent about because even though this is far from my dream job, I have a great department.

Today, I’m venting.

Dear Employee,

If you would like to get reimbursed, FILL OUT YOUR OWN DAMN EXPENSE REPORT, ATTACH THE RECEIPTS AND APPROVAL PROPERLY, AND SHUT THE FUCK UP. If you do not want to get reimbursed, go ahead and email me the expense report, mail your wadded up receipts separately, and then send me a note asking me to get the approval for you. I’ll get right on top of that. Using “please” and “thank you” when asking me to put together YOUR expense report does not endear me to you and it does not make me change my mind. Neither does promising that this is your last time and putting a 🙂 in your email. And making a smart ass comment about me being unable to hit print will not work in your favor–I promise. 🙂

You’re grown folks…all of you. If you wanna get reimburse, you’ll by God put together your own reports and they’ll be legible. And you won’t bitch at me when I deduct an expense because you “accidentally left the receipt off”. Wah. Expense it next month and shut the fuck up.

Sincerely,

Melissa, not your mother-fucking babysitter, Francis

Okay, less ventful blog tomorrow.

I try to stay away from work related posts in my blog for a couple of reasons–the main one being that most work related posts would put your ass to sleep. I work in accounting for corn sakes!

Rarely do I have anything to vent about because even though this is far from my dream job, I have a great department.

Today, I’m venting.

Dear Employee,

If you would like to get reimbursed, FILL OUT YOUR OWN DAMN EXPENSE REPORT, ATTACH THE RECEIPTS AND APPROVAL PROPERLY, AND SHUT THE FUCK UP. If you do not want to get reimbursed, go ahead and email me the expense report, mail your wadded up receipts separately, and then send me a note asking me to get the approval for you. I’ll get right on top of that. Using “please” and “thank you” when asking me to put together YOUR expense report does not endear me to you and it does not make me change my mind. Neither does promising that this is your last time and putting a 🙂 in your email. And making a smart ass comment about me being unable to hit print will not work in your favor–I promise. 🙂

You’re grown folks…all of you. If you wanna get reimburse, you’ll by God put together your own reports and they’ll be legible. And you won’t bitch at me when I deduct an expense because you “accidentally left the receipt off”. Wah. Expense it next month and shut the fuck up.

Sincerely,

Melissa, not your mother-fucking babysitter, Francis

Okay, less ventful blog tomorrow.

Mondays are hard for me…but a Monday like today is especially hard.

The sun is out and the air is a crisp 54 degrees.

My patio was calling my name as I left the house this morning. It was begging me to stay and sit outside with a cup of coffee and my laptop.

I resisted. Somehow, I resisted.

It’s never easy going back to the bump and grind of the office, especially coming off a successful writing weekend. I’ve written thirty pages since last Thursday and I hate that I’m back at work, interrupting the mojo of this proposal.

This is something radically different for me. I’m working on two things at once, something I wasn’t sure I could manage. But I am. The proposal is a new genre for me (and I’m not going to talk about it too much, cuz I don’t want to jinx the mojo) and then my regular Southern Fiction story, which I’m really hoping to have completed by Jan. 1.

Okay folks…how was your weekend? Get any writing done? Favorite team win? (Woo Pig Sooie!) Have anything super special happen that you wanna share?

Mondays are hard for me…but a Monday like today is especially hard.

The sun is out and the air is a crisp 54 degrees.

My patio was calling my name as I left the house this morning. It was begging me to stay and sit outside with a cup of coffee and my laptop.

I resisted. Somehow, I resisted.

It’s never easy going back to the bump and grind of the office, especially coming off a successful writing weekend. I’ve written thirty pages since last Thursday and I hate that I’m back at work, interrupting the mojo of this proposal.

This is something radically different for me. I’m working on two things at once, something I wasn’t sure I could manage. But I am. The proposal is a new genre for me (and I’m not going to talk about it too much, cuz I don’t want to jinx the mojo) and then my regular Southern Fiction story, which I’m really hoping to have completed by Jan. 1.

Okay folks…how was your weekend? Get any writing done? Favorite team win? (Woo Pig Sooie!) Have anything super special happen that you wanna share?

I love my little piggies.

I love calling the hogs.

I love the words WOO PIG SOOIE! especially when they’re cheered out loud by 60,000+ fans.

And even though it was an ugly game to watch, I love the fact that we won. In 2 overtimes.

It wasn’t pretty. But pretty doesn’t matter when it comes to the scoreboard.

I do feel sorry for the Alabama kicker. He missed 3 field goals/point afters. And let me tell you, the game wouldn’t have gone into OT if he had hit them. But, his crappy playing is to our benefit. Sorry, dude. Your loss, our gain.

My heartfelt sadness goes out to my friend Marley Gibson. I know she’s crying into her drink as we speak. I don’t blame her. I would be crying too, if we had lost. But I’m not crying. I’m celebrating right into my bevvy.

Peace.

I love my little piggies.

I love calling the hogs.

I love the words WOO PIG SOOIE! especially when they’re cheered out loud by 60,000+ fans.

And even though it was an ugly game to watch, I love the fact that we won. In 2 overtimes.

It wasn’t pretty. But pretty doesn’t matter when it comes to the scoreboard.

I do feel sorry for the Alabama kicker. He missed 3 field goals/point afters. And let me tell you, the game wouldn’t have gone into OT if he had hit them. But, his crappy playing is to our benefit. Sorry, dude. Your loss, our gain.

My heartfelt sadness goes out to my friend Marley Gibson. I know she’s crying into her drink as we speak. I don’t blame her. I would be crying too, if we had lost. But I’m not crying. I’m celebrating right into my bevvy.

Peace.

Fishdog refers to me as twfkam in his blog.

Several of you flit over to the flophaus and take a gander every now and then and then come back and ask me what the hell twfkam means.

The Woman Formerly Known As Momma.

See, I have this thing about my husband calling me momma. I hate it. Absolutely, fucking, hate it. With one exception…when he’s talking to me for the kids. “Momma, can you help Rader with his homework while I do something manly like light the grill?” That’s fine. I have no issue with that.

But, when we’re out together, just the two of us, or we’re at home, just the two of us, or the kids are in the room but Fishdog is speaking to me about something that has nothing to do with them, or if he is blogging about me– he is no longer allowed to call me momma.

It’s been a hard adjustment for him, but he finally did manage to stop referring to me as momma in his blog. Sometime this past spring he finally got a clue. It’s only taken me twelve years to get it into his head…but hey, at least he can be taught, right?