The most obnoxious day ever

5:25am - My alarm goes off. I get up.

5:35am - I'm ready to leave. But I can't find my keys.

5:45am - I give up and steal my husband's keys.

5:49am - I leave the house 2 minutes after I need to in order to make my train. I hope the traffic lights will be good to me and take off anyway.

6:00am - I park at the Amtrak station only to hear my train pulling away as I shut my door. I open my door and get back into my car and decide maybe I should park like a sane person instead of the skewed angle my hurried parking job ended up being. I turn the key in the ignition. Do I hear the brief ch-ch-ch before my car's engine smoothly begins running? No. I hear an odd beep beep chug eh ch-ch schschschsc beep. My car doesn't even attempt to get the engine going.

6:05am - My forehead makes intimate contact with the steering wheel.

6:52am - I finally board a train to get to work.
Work was going as well as work goes. No problems there.

12:00pm - I take my lunch break as an opportunity to call my mechanic and find out if this was something they could work on or if it sounded like the security system or the computer system was whacked and it needed to go to the dealership. Verdict - dealership. :(

12:15pm - I call the dealership. $135 to diagnose. Of course they can't give me an estimate of what it will take to fix it because they have no clue what's wrong with it. But of course, the shop closes at 5:00pm, but (small ray of light in a abysmal day of obnoxiousness) the tow truck can drop it off after hours.

My work day is somewhat hectic and instead of having enough time to drop off a file box full to the brim with files at the office, I end up having to haul it with me on the train. If I hadn't done that, I'd have missed my train that would get me home at 6:20 in time to deal with the car situation.

4:37pm - I board the 4:40pm train, panting, out of breath, and balancing a heavy box of files on my hip while dragging my laptop bag with the other hand. I sit down, realize there's no way I'm drivign at the end of this train, and buy myself a well deserved chardonnay. We pass the first two stops and it looks like we'll have a timely arrival with no delays and I'll be able to get everything taken care of and be home by 7:00.

Well that would be true if someone hadn't decided today was a good day to set fire to the tracks. WTF!?!??! (Okay so there's no reason to believe this was arson, but could my day get more obnoxious??)

7:25pm - The train is finally approaching my stop. I call AAA to get a tow truck there as soon as possible. I'm so distrcted by the conversation, I keeply miss my stop. I get off at the next stop which is luckily only 7 minutes away by train, but closer to 15 minutes by car. As soon as I realize my mistake, I call a taxi. Because it is a train station the taxi service OBNOXIOUSLY tries to insist there are always cabs. This particular train station has no taxi queue and the only time there are un-called taxis there is drivers smart enough to meet the rush hour trains. Our train was severely delayed so even those drivers wouldn't be there. After some obnoxious arguing, I finally got the stupid woman to send a taxi. I only had to wait five minutes for it to get me.

7:35pm - I get in the taxi. The guy driving 1. Has no idea where the train station is that I left my car even though it is a major transportation hub and 2. Is not that great of a driver. As I instruct him on how the hell to get to the train station, he misses at least one turn, decides the shoulder's a good place to drive on an exit ramp, and then gives me crap for paying him with a credit card.

7:45pm - Explaining that I barely had enough cash to cover the $22 fare and if he wanted any kind of a tip he needs to run the card, I pulled my file box and my laptop bag out of the back of the cab while pulling out my AAA card for the tow truck driver.

I LOVE AAA. The driver was very nice. He looked over my car and determined quickly that I had a dead battery. YAY! So much better than $135 diagnosis to determine what horribly expensive thing the dealership would want to do to it.

8:00pm - AAA guy gets my car started and I call a taxi to meet me at my mechanic's. I drive the car there followed by the tow truck driver who wanted to make sure I got there safely.

Half way there I realized with horror that I had drunk 1.5 glasses of wine on the train with the thought that i wouldn't be driving. A second later I realized that was 3.5 hours ago because my 1.5 hour train ride doubled. I call my husband and ask him to drop a bottle of white into the freezer to chill it before I get home. I drop the car off and pile into the waiting taxi with my file box and laptop case.

This driver doesn't know which was is north.

8:15pm - I open my front door. I hug my husband and greet my tail-wagging puppy.

8:30pm - I drop onto the couch. My husband brings me a glass of wine and a plate of lightly seared yellow squash and ultimate meat loaf.

I determine the difference between a truely horrible day and a merely obnoxious day is what you get to come to at the end of it.

The A** Hole and the Plague Victim

So there are those rides on publicly accessible transportation like airlines and trains that are lovely. You get two seats to yourself. The place is quiet. You can doze if you want to. You can read without being pestered. You can work on your laptop without someone having to wiggle past you to get out or use the restroom.

And there's hellish rides where your squeezed in between a wall and that morbidly obese guy who sweats like a pig and is so SURE you want to hear all about his hemorrhoids while the baby behind you is crying like he's being tortured and his mother is coughing like she's caught the plague. Meanwhile, the lady in front of you is one of those talkers who chats incessantly about nothing interesting in a voice that carries so everyone can hear about her inane conversation with the complete stranger who can offer nothing more than polite nods and non-discouragement in hopes she'll shut up. She doesn't.

This is neither of those. This started out as a quiet, nice ride where I was sure I'd be able to get some sleep in my nice quiet, unpopulated train car only to discover that I'd be joined by the A** Hole the next stop and the Plague Victim the stop after that.

Gary, the super nice, polite and charming conductor stops to ask the gentleman who sat directly behind me for his ticket.

"Can I see your ticket, sir?" asked Gary politely.

"I don't have one."

"You need to purchase a ticket?" asked Gary patiently.

The gentleman shrugs. "Psht. I guess."

"Where are you going?" asked Gary still polite and patient.

"Wherever you are."

"What city are you trying to get to?" asked Gary hopefully and a little less patiently.

"Man. Just give me a minute to get my money out."

Gary moves on to the next passenger, gets her ticket and marks her destination on a little tab to put above her seat. He comes back to the gentleman in seat 21.

"Where are you going?"

"Light rail."

"Are you going to Sacramento?"

"I need a ticket for light rail."

"But what city are you going to?"

"Light rail, man," he says with agitation.

"That's $22," says Gary finally deciding he was selling the guy a ticket to Sacramento regardless of where he decided to depart the train. "May I see your ID please?"

"'Merican."

"Sir, I need to see your ID."

"Youdon't trust me, man. mumblemumble 'Merican," the gentleman in seat 21 says half slurring and half mumbling.

Gary's voice gets a little lower, a little more forceful, a lot less patient, but only slightly less polite. "Sir, I need to see your ID. If you do not show me an ID and stop with the attitude, I'm going to ask you to get off at the next stop."

"This isn't an attitude man. Here. Here's my money. Here's my ID. What else you want, man? Here's my damn wallet."

"Here's your ticket and your change."

"What am I getting off at ----- (next stop)?"

"Your ticket is to Sacramento." Gary has stopped trying to explain anything to the man in seat 21 who either is incapable of understanding, willfully refusing to understand, or simple incapacitated in some way. Gary moves on.

"Where's the rest of my change?! F***in' federal employee stole my money. mumble mumble."

On his next trip through the car to check tickets of the new passengers, Gary brought along the other conductor to point out the man in seat 21 (subtly).

On the next stop a girl gets on who sounds like she has the plague. She's coughing up a storm and as soon as I start to drift off into slumber, she starts up again. And so I give up on another few minutes of shut eye before I get to work.

When I arrive there, it will be time for my first peer mentoring meeting. My peer mentor is the office Vegan. I have no problems with Vegans of course, but it seems that she has had some negative interactions with a number of other employees which I get the vague feeling has something to do with her Vegan-ness. How much of it is the general populace's misunderstanding or disdain for Vegans, and how much is a political/idealist/nutritional superiority given off by her, I have no idea. Since some of the "negative interaction" people are the two guys I'd rather not have to work with, I'm leaning on the former and hope it all works out. She's seemed nice enough to me when I've interacted with her so far.

Now what to ask her? I appreciate her initiative in getting in touch with me and setting up a meeting so quickly, but I haven't been around long enough to really have questions. I guess I can always go with the CPA career path questions since I get the feeling she's working towards one (or I think that's a safe assumption given her educational background).

And now I think I'll attempt to call Katie, but I feel as though I should leave the quiet car first ....though I am curious how Mr Seat 21 will be when we actually get to Sacramento.

Long and pretty

The commute may be a long one, but no one can say it is not a beautiful one.

I just finished my second day of my second week (four day weeks thus far) of training on the new job. It's getting better. Yesterday we had a peer panel, two of whom's first assignments were the same as my first assignment. Both stated they wanted to quit every day for a month when they started on that assignment. On one hand, that is sad. On the other hand, if I feel like I'm lost, behind, and not getting it, I'll know it's perfectly normal. At that point a certain amount of anxiety was released. The first breath of "I can do this."

In other news, I've decided to start adding reviews to this blog. They will be dated a date I ate/saw/visited at the place/movie/book/attraction (sometimes the first time, sometimes just the first time since I started this blog), but any subsequent updates will be added to the same post. All reviews will be tagged with the word "review" and the type like restaurant, movie, etc. I will also be duplicating those reviews to other appropriate sites such as yelp, boardgamegeek, etc. What the hell? I have the time.

Day 4 - not looking so good so far

Well. I had written a very lengthy post, but didn't check my connection before hitting publish so it all got erased. I'll try again but I'm sure most will be left out.

I start today with a heavy heart. I'm full of dread and fear and not even sure exactly the source. I woke up a couple of times in the night and nearly panicked when Jim was not lying by my side. He was merely in the other room with a case of insomnia, but I just felt so full of a need for him - for him to be with me, holding me, comforting me, securing me. He came when I called of course and I know if I called him right now he'd be happy to talk to me and to listen to me even if I did wake up. But I want him to get some sleep.

I started feeling that way last night - like I just needed him more than usual. I got home and my first thought was to take my shoes of my blistered and tired feet. My second thought was to let my husband hold me until I slipped into unconsciousness. Instead I soaked my feet in a hot water bath, ate some pizza, watched The Producers, and went to bed.

It's that yesterday was so terrible. Sure I got a new blister to add to the burgeoning blisters from the day before and I wrestled with my ankle wrap several times in hopes of reducing the pain there, but on the whole, the day went fine. Training was nothing terrible even if nothing terribly interesting. I got my job assignment and it was exactly as I expected. I found a new eating option which is more affordable if not remotely healthy.

Maybe it's just the depression sneaking up on me. If so I just have one more day to fight through and I can spend the next three in recovery. Maybe it's just all the newness building up to a front. Maybe it's something about today I can't quite pinpoint.

When I arrive, I have to walk the 15 minutes to work just to hop in a cab with my other trainees to go back the direction I came to get fingerprinted. This is so my employers can ensure I'm not a criminal and be alerted the second I decide to become one - or just get a traffic ticket. After that is the icebreaker.

I know there are a good number of people in the world who are good at schmoozing. I know that most people do not find shaking hands, smiling, making pleasant conversation, and exuding a friendly demeanor exhausting, but I certainly do. It is real work for me. If I don't put in that effort, I end up giving an impression of myself as cold, unfriendly - a bitch. And it always takes a long time to overcome that effect if I ever manage to. How many previous jobs have I ended up friendly with coworkers only to be informed by them that their initial impression of me was so unfavorable - that I was in fact a bitch no one liked. I'm just the kind of person that has to grow on people. I resent that, but at least it's not as bad as it used to be. I've gotten better. Part of that was a wall I put up myself. I can only process so much at a time and I always privileged achieving and portraying job competency over co-worker relationships. Now I recognize that people expect you to go through a learning curve with the job, but do not expect the same transitional period in relationships.

I don't care about touring the capitol and resent that I have to abide by a more formal dress code than everyone else on frito pie day because of it. But I'm sure that will be better than I expect. At least I have more comfortable shoes today.

I hope to meet my team leaders at the icebreaker and find an easy way to beg for consideration of my commute in placing me within my job assignment. The idea of being placed on a team that has to work offsite (a possibility I did not anticipate since I'm on an annual report I believed to be done entirely from the office) lengthening my commute - or worse - forcing me to drive for the duration of the project is - disheartening is so not strong enough a word.

What if I can't do this? What if I can't take the commute? What if I'm to fail again? Never completing anything. What if I love the job and the only way for me to be able to handle it is to move closer to it? How will that effect my life. How many friendships will I lose? What will that do to Katie when she's going through so much? What if she comes out here because of the friendships and support she can get here only to have me, the person who incited her to move and her strongest source of support move? She could move with us moving herself further away from the friendships she's started to foster here and her schooling. Else she'd be left to fend for herself in a new environment like she needs another disappointment in the people who love and care for her. What if I don't move? How much longer can Jim carry me through this before the stress starts to get to him. Is worrying about me already getting to him? He hasn't slept well all week.

I'm so fraking FRUSTRATED with all this fear and feelings of inadequacy. I'm a fraking ROCK STAR and I know it. I know I'm perfectly suited for this job. I know I'll excel at it. But somehow, all the stuff around the job makes me feel like a failure. I can't figure out what to wear. I don't feel like myself or remotely confident in the clothes I end up waring. I fear I can't handle the commute. I worry about transportation. I worry that my emotional state is too fraking fragile to put up with all of this. I'm just so tired of feeling like a failure when I know I'm not one - of being afraid and worried when there's no real reason to be. I know my therapist would say she can understand how I would feel this way. That these feelings are not unusual. That a lot of people have these fears in this situation. But that doesn't console me. I don't care about everyone else. I care about me and how me and my family will get through this.

If I can barely manage to get through a day as it is, how am I ever going to have time for myself, for my family, to work on the things that are important to me? How could I ever manage to be even a passable mother. How could I even manage to get pregnant for that matter? How will I avoid spiralling downward feeling friendless and alone?

It is only week one. Maybe it will get better. Maybe my body will learn to better function on less sleep. Maybe the commute will get easier. Maybe the flex schedule will ease things up a bit. Maybe, once I get into the actual work, I'll like it so much that it will help revitalize me.

It's just for now.

And now for yogurt, medication, and steeling myself for Day 4 of the new job.

Look Mommy! I'm an Auditor! or Growing up

My heart hurts. Not really - more like it clenches. It is fear and nerves. It is being so unsure. This is more than a new job - but a career. One of the first steps in my truly adult life.

I find it odd that our society thinks of going from childhood to adolescence as growing up and perceives of becoming an "adult" at those arbitrary age markers of 18 or 21. They say some grow up before their time because of horrorse and trials they see at too young an age. Those persons are more often stuck perpetually in childhood and never really learn that all that horror, pain, fear, and suffering is merely a condition of the human existence rather than the default state. Those persons may lose some of the lightness we associate with youth, but rather than growing up too fast, they have their growth stunted. Ours is a linear existence. While we can imitate - and quiet adeptly - the trappings, mannerisms, and duties of an adult life, we cannot learn to be an adult without learning first to be a child. Perhaps that is why it has taken me not 18 or 21 years, but 28 to finally begin growing up.

Observation #4: 5:00 am is a lot fraking earlier than 6:30 am.
Observation #5: 5:00 am is not early at all. It is not really early. It is really late. Really early does not start until the sky has at least started to get lighter.

Day 0 on the new career path OR Growing Up for real

I say Day 0 because my first day is tomorrow.

Observation #1: 6:35 a.m. is fraking early.
Observation #2: It is not as early as I have to get up tomorrow.
Observation #3: I already want to take a nap.

In the last 6 weeks, I have successfully completed three professional courses, two online and one in person. I also spent $210 on shoes, $600 on clothes, $50 on a haircut, $30 on make-up, and $100 on tailoring so that I could add "professional" to my closet and make it through my first 4-day week as an Auditor without looking like I've spent the last 28 years attempting to wear nothing at all whenever possible, and only comfort and utmost sexy/cute style the rest of the time. Seriously. I spent half of college in a pair of Dalmatian spotted flannel pajamas. I am now the ?proud? owner of five Austin Reed, Jones New York, and Body by Victoria Secret suits.

Suits. With jackets and everything.

The rest of my wardrobe of low rise jeans, loose skirts, sheath dresses, and tank-tops is afraid. It doesn't know what to do with this entirely too tailored, gray and black, no nonsense invasion of my closet. The six inch stilleto sandals could kick the Clarks Artisan dress shoes' a**, but like an elephant confronted by a mouse, it fears and knows not why. The favorite $20 Old Navy jeans have replaced their easy confidence as the garment of choice with insecurity and a marked sense of inferiority as they are now flanked by the fully lined Jones New York slacks with cuffs.

Fully Lined.

Fully Lined with great big capitol letters. In my previous life, the only clothes that came Fully Lined were skimpy lacy dresses that would be see-through otherwise and wool coats. The sensation of smooth swishing fabric against my skin that does not match that visible layer of bottom-weight wool blend - well, the feeling is foreign, sometimes distracting, and a little dirty - like the feeling of sexy lingerie beneath your clothes on a hot date.

...

Today I have to obtain transcripts from two schools, pick up newly hemmed pants from the tailor, figure out where there's parking at the Amtrak station I'll be using to commute, pick out a first day outfit, iron a shirt, and my husband wants to go grocery shopping.

Did I mention I already want to take a nap?

Review: Paradise Beach Grille in Capitola, CA

After the sand got a little cold as we laid on beautiful Capitola Beach, we wandered down the street looking for a nice little place to grab an appetizer. We passed by the seafood, the Thai place, the sports bar and happened upon the Paradise Beach Grille. The menu looked appetizing and they had a patio where we could enjoy the beautiful day so we decided to give it a try.

The ambiance was simple and elegant without being pretentious. There were fresh flowers on every table, a full bar, and tables for two or eight to accommodate any party size.

We ordered a lovely dish of Bree baked in a puffed pastry over bruchetta served with a head of roasted garlic and a jalapeno jelly sauce. It was amazing. Every bite was a week bit of heaven. I also ordered a pina colada with no fresh coconut and it was perfectly balanced and a tasty addition to our afternoon snack. The wait staff was also very pleasant and timely. Overall, I recommend the place to anyone who wants a delicious meal. I also think the indoor seating would make a lovely setting for a romantic occasion though I fear that the day time and patio areas are likely to be frequented by families and beach go-ers that might lessen a romantic mood.

The pricing is the mid-range. Cocktails were $6-8 per glass. Our baked Bree heaven was $14. Lunch entrees where in the $10-18 range and dinner entrees were $22-$34.

www.paradisebeachgrille.com