Day 190: If I Ruled Lichtenstein... People are Allowed to be Sick

I don't get sick that often. And when I do feel a little under the weather - like with a headache or stomachache - I'm usually able to continue with my regular life, albeit uncomfortably.

And then there are those sicknesses which knock me on my ass, where even getting up to go to the bathroom seems like an insurmountable task. 

This is how I felt for 15 days this past month. Yeah, that's not an exaggeration. I was sick for more than two weeks in which several of those days were "stay in bed" days.

And yet I had to go to work on those days because of rare, but tight, deadlines that particular week. Crying at work ensued those days because when the file I had been working on became corrupted, I couldn't think of what else to do because of the overriding body aches and coughing.

And of course the laundry and grocery shopping wasn't going to do themselves, and it would have been more of a battle to get someone else to help.

It's inconvenient to be sick, but sometimes I get sick. And if I ruled Lichtenstein, people would be allowed to be sick when they're sick. Someone else would always be there to take care of whatever the sick person needs them to do.

It sucks to be sick. It adds insult to injury to have to work when you feel like crap.

Day 189: What Did Batman Say To Robin... About Journaling Birds

Holy Journaling Birds Batman!

Why is a raven like a writing desk?

This is a question that has puzzled the human race ever since Alice tumbled down the rabbit hole into Wonderland. The Mad Hatter - who I'd very much like to engage in a Batman and Robin-type of conversation with - poses this riddle at the tea party, then later replies that he hasn't the faintest idea regarding the answer.


I have a theory. First, let's deconstruct the two main players - the raven and the writing desk.

The raven is a black, large-beaked bird made famous by a "nevermore" refrain in The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe.


A writing desk is simply a plain wooden desk where one can sit and write or, in this day and age, type.


Therefore, it seems obvious that a raven is like a writing desk if only we were living in the medieval era. This was when writing with quills was popular.

A raven, therefore, is like a writing desk in that you can't have one without the other. In order to sit and write at the writing desk, you need the feather of a raven to use as a quill. In order for a raven to have a vocabulary of more than the single word "nevermore," it needs to learn other words by having access to them on a writing desk. 


Duh, Alice. You totally should have been able to figure that out at the party.

Day 188: Never Have I Ever... Been Completely Unprepared At Work

I have recently been a part of a series of meetings with the executives at my work.

For one of these meetings, my boss at the last minute asked me to prepare some screenshots to go along with a competitive analysis. So of course said I'd do it, worked on it for a bit, and then decided to go to lunch thinking I'd have plenty of time to finish the presentation before the meeting.

So when I got back from lunch, my colleague asked me if I was ready to go to the meeting. I told her I'd be ready to go to the meeting later in the afternoon, to which she responded that the meeting started in 10 minutes.

Panic.

Fortunately, last-minute deadlines motivate me more than anything else, so I was able to scramble and do more in 10 minutes on the presentation than I probably would have been able to do had I had more time.

Unfortunately, I felt extremely unprepared, which probably was obvious, as I was the last person to walk into the meeting, I was wearing flats, and was holding a crappy old notebook and regular ballpoint pen. (I always wear heels and bring my leather binder and sleek silver pen with me to meetings in the main boardroom.)

There was a point when I looked down at what was in front of me (blank page in crappy notebook and unused pen) and what was in front of everyone else (leather binder, research papers, notes, etc.) and just said to myself, "I have never felt so unprepared. This is such an uncomfortable feeling."

Fortunately, I was not asked to present anything, though I am sure I would have been able to somewhat confidently wing my way through it. But I'd much rather be prepared.

Lesson learned.

Day 187: Shakespeare's High School Poetry...

A Clerihew is a comic verse consisting of two couplets and the specific aabb rhyming scheme. It was invented by Edmund Clerihew Bentley (1875-1956) at the age of 16. The poem is usually about a person or character. In most cases, the first line names the person, and the second line ends with something that rhymes with the name of the person.

Since this poem was invented by a kid, I thought I'd write about my three favorite kids.

My niece Katelyn Ruth
Just lost her first tooth.
She tells everyone what to do.
Always obsessed with the rules.

My niece Mackenzie Grace
Has the most innocent face,
Though I must confess
That she's always a mess.

My niece Alyson Spencer
Is quite young for me to know her.
But she's impossibly cute.
With a wide smile to boot.

Day 186: A Picture is Worth 1,000 Words... On Fearlessness

If we were to peel back the skin on this stud, we'd see some interesting stuff coursing through his veins.

Last week's cliche: High as a Kite

Day 185: Stop. Focus. Click... On the End of Fall

I've been trying to hold onto fall because when I tell Chicagoans I hate the cold, they always respond with something along the lines of, "Oh just you wait. You haven't seen anything yet." I know there's only frigid temperatures to come, but I'll just try and keep focusing on the magical lead-up to Christmas. And this gorgeous photo of the golden fall leaves in the courtyard at my apartment complex.

Day 184: Remember the Time... Part Two: Winging It As A First-Time Pup Mom

Now that you know the story about Chloe's adoption, I thought I'd move on to write about winging it as a first-time pup mom.

Before bringing any dog home, I did my research. I read books and online articles about what to expect with my first pup; went shopping for a leash, collar, dog dish, kibble, bed, and toys; and felt ready to be a dog owner when I went to pick her up.

They gave her over to me wearing a green rope leash, and I directed her to jump in the backseat of the car. She then pretty much joined me in the front seat by standing on the center console and staring out the windshield.

First order of business? A desperately needed bath. So we headed to the dog bath section of Pet Supplies Plus. After narrowly avoiding a run-in with an over exuberant Rottweiler, I told Chloe to get into the steel tub, secured her in there by the neck, and went to work. Giving her a bath was distracting, however, as I kept glancing over at the woman next to me bathing her lab who kept yanking her hand away from him and yelling at him to not try and bite her again. Chloe was the model of obedience.

And when we got home, I fully expected her to trot in behind me, lay down at my feet, and go to sleep. That's what dogs do, right? (Now, actually, that's what she does because she's getting to be an old lady.) Nope. This one wanted to explore every inch of our three-bedroom condo. And with me not knowing what she was going to do (chew my shoes? Scratch the doors?), I spent that first evening following her around watching her get acclimated to her surroundings.

But because I was still scared of what she might do when we weren't home, I made the decision to cage her while I was at work. So right before I left, I grabbed her collar and directed her to the cage and set off for the day. I still remember the drive home later that day, as I was looking forward to playing with my new pup before heading to an evening work function.

Poor Chloe, though, had a rough day. I imaged waking her up from a nice all-day nap ready to play. Instead, I walked in to a dog trying her hardest to cower in a corner of her already probably too-small cage to avoid the piles of both puke and diarrhea. (I have now learned that you don't just change a dog's food. Apparently you have to slowly introduce the new food over the course of many meals.) Poor baby.

So that left me dressed in my work clothes hosing off a dog cage in my front yard. The cage became a battle for me, as Chloe was not happy having to go in the cage, and let me know by hiding when she saw me put on my shoes in the morning, and then whining and piddling if I tried to force her in it by her collar. That cage also, however, led to Chloe becoming a magician because toward the end of that short period where I caged her, I'd find that she managed to unhinge it and jump out more times than not.

She didn't like the cage and she let me know she didn't like the cage, but I didn't know to listen. I stopped caging her and I swear when she looked at me it was a sort of "what took you so long to trust me?" look.

I have since learned that Miss Chloe will tell me when she doesn't like something by misbehaving until she gets her way. Like the time she refused to get on her feet on a walk when I was yelling at her to get on her feet because she didn't like me yelling at her (I've since learned that she was abused and rolling on her back is a show of surrender). The second I switched the tone of my voice to sweet baby talk, she hopped right up and was like, "Let's go! Where are we off to?"

And that dog usually gets her way. Like when she wants to be petted, she'll ask to be petted by putting her head down somewhere on you and look at you with those oversized brown eyes. I haven't yet found a way to resist those eyes and her sweet, loving nature. There truly isn't anything like the unconditional love and devotion you get from your loyal dog - even one owned by an inexperienced, first-time pup mom.

Chloe was telling me what I needed to do from the minute I brought her home. I just needed to learn to listen.