A Week's Worth of Happenings

It has been an extremely long week, as are most weeks that lead up to one of our two day conferences. This week was just a wee bit longer, since on top of the usual preparation necessary, I was working two teleconference calls on the Thursday evening prior. One at 8 p.m. Eastern then the 2nd at 8 p.m. Pacific (11 p.m. Eastern). In the end I didn't get into before until around 12:30 a.m. this morning.

I was surprised this morning, as I headed out for downtown Richmond, with the blanket of fog that was covering the area. Leaving the house it was almost impossible to see further than a car length in front of me. The fog certainly didn't clear out any the closer I got to the river, however things did improve by the time I made it to Cary Street.

There have been some of the usual snafu's along with a few that have been a tremendous hassel. I tried to access the office remotely (usually not a problem) and wasn't able to find the office computer. Turned out that the office router was acting up, all it needed was a reboot and things were back to normal. Yet it took a couple of hours to figure this out.

I'm exploring going back to school to get a Masters Graphic Design Certification. It is a 17 class program and would really do some back filling on what I've been doing. Since I've never really 'taken' any classes in the work that I do. I've managed to slip in a few phone calls about school during the day today and am pretty sure that this is something that I'll be doing. I'll be able to get a student loan for this and that'll definitely help get things underway and give me a way to manage it without a huge chunk out of pocket at the start.

The little squirrel was hanging out next to the fence behind the office this week. He was having a grand old time munching on Cheerios. There was a Blue Jay too, but he was much more elusive, by the time I'd get him in focus he'd fly off. Maybe next time.

Email & Newsletter Gleanings:

Thought for the Day: (Fortune cookie wisdom) "Fear knocked at the door. Faith answered. No one was there."

Cleaning Poem

I asked the Lord to tell me
Why my house is such a mess.
He asked if I'd been 'computering',
And I had to answer 'yes.'

He told me to get off my fanny
And tidy up the house.
And so I started cleaning up...
The smudges off my mouse.

I wiped and shined the topside.
That really did the trick...
I was just admiring my work.
I didn't mean to 'click.'

But click, I did, and oops I found
A real absorbing site.
That I got SO way into it.
I was into it all night.

Nothing's changed except my mouse
It's very, very shiny.
I guess my house will stay a mess.....
While I sit here on my hiney.


Public Restrooms
This is hilarious
When you have to visit a public bathroom, you usually find a line of women, so you smile politely and take your place. Once it's your turn, you check for feet under the stall doors. Every stall is occupied.

Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall. You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter, the wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants! The dispenser for the modern 'seatcovers'(invented by someone's Mom, no doubt) is handy, but empty.. You would hang your purse on the door hook, if there was one, but there isn't - so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, (Mom would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!), yank down your pants, and assume ' The Stance.'

In this position your aging, toneless thigh muscles begin to shake. You'd love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold 'The Stance.'

To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser. In your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying, 'Honey, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!' Your thighs shake more.

You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday - the one that's still in your purse. (Oh yeah, the purse around your neck, that now, you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time). That would have to do. You crumple it in the puffiest w! ay possible. It's still smaller than your thumbnail.

Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn't work. The door hits your purse, which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest, and you and your purse topple backward against the tank of the toilet. 'Occupied!' you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT . It is wet of course. You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late.

Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat beca use YOU never laid down toilet paper - not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try. You know that your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because, you're certain her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, dear, 'You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could get.'

By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose against the inside of the bowl that sprays a fine mist of water that covers your butt and runs down your legs and into your shoes. The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too.

At this point, you give up. You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You're exhausted. You try to wipe! with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.

You can't figure out how to operate the faucets with the automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women still waiting.

You are no longer able to smile politely to them. A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe! (Where was that when you NEEDED it??) You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and tell her warmly, 'Here, you just might need this'

As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used, and left the men's restroom. Annoyed, he asks, 'What took you so long, and why is your purse hanging around your neck?'

This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with a public restrooms (rest??? you've GOT to be kidding!!). It finally explains to the men what really does take us so long. It also answers their other commonly asked questions about why women go to the restroom in pairs.

It's so the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse and hand you Kleenex under the door!

This HAD to be written by a woman! No one else could describe it so accurately!

A Friend Is Like A Good Bra...

Hard to Find
Supportive
Comfortable
Always Lifts You Up
Never Lets You Down or Leaves You Hanging
And Is Always Close To Your Heart!!!

FINALLY, SOMEONE HAS CLEARED THIS UP
For centuries, Hindu women have worn a dot on their foreheads. Most of us have naively thought this was connected with tradition or religion, but the Indian Embassy in Washington D.C. has recently revealed the true story.

When a Hindu woman gets married, she brings a dowry into the union. On her wedding night, the husband scratches off the dot to see whether he has won a convenience store, gas station, donut shop, taxi cab or a motel in the United States . If nothing is there, he must remain in India to answer telephones and provide us with technical advice.