Confused

How productive is it to 1) bake brownies before the exercise class, 2) think about the brownies during the exercise class, and 3) eat the brownies after the exercise class? It's hopeless, but man, were those brownies good.

Squirrely Addendum

The facilities crew at my office have been attempting to capture the squirrels that have been frolicking in the ceiling of my office. So far, they haven't had much success. The squirrels slip into the have-a-heart style traps, grab the food that’s been left as bait, and then escape through the sides of the traps.

Scorecard

Squirrels: 4

Facilities Staff: 0

A drop in the bucket

My office manager organized a bake sale for Haiti in the office today. She collected an astounding $400 by selling cupcakes and cookies.

How many containers of baby formula will that purchase? How many gallons of water might that provide? Not much, I suspect, but I'm glad she did it. At least we've added a little to the effort.

Look Out! I'm coming through!

Holy smokes! Driving from Jersey to Brooklyn is like competing in the Indy 500.

Hop on the NJ Turnpike.
Get in the EZPass lane.
Avoid the truck.
Zoom past the guy going 40 (in a 65 mph zone).
Pray that guy doesn't sideswipe you as he flies around you.
Watch it! Two lanes have collapsed into one.
Squeeze between a truck and the guardrail on your way to the Goethals Bridge.
Avoid gazing about as you cross the Verrazano Bridge.
Zip past the double-parked cars at the Chinese restaurant.
Avoid the shoppers at the Circus Circus food market.

Drive around and around the block, searching for a parking space.
Crap...perfect spot, except for the fire hydrant.
Squeeze in between 2 cars.

Grab the GPS.
Hide the rest of the valuables.
Hop out.
Breathe deeply.

Your mother wears army boots.

Performance appraisal meetings are being conducted at my office this month. For a half hour, each employee sits with their supervisor and hears what the supervisor thinks of their work. When there's a good, collegial relationship, it's easy. "You did a great job. It's a pleasure to work with you."
"Well, thank you very much. Goodbye."

When the relationship has been less than stellar, it's a painful process.

It's a strange dance between a person who has power and a person who doesn't.

The supervisor gingerly comments on the less-than adequate work.
The employee tries to defend himself.
The supervisor tries to be encouraging and offers suggestions for how to change.
The employee seethes and wonders what's the point.
The supervisor ends the session with a "things will be better next year" comment.
The employee hangs his head and wanders away.

From the manager's point of view, it's tough to face someone and tell them how you really feel. I suspect that most managers avoid being completely frank. Afterall, how do you continue to work with someone when you've just told them they suck.

It's a necessary evil, I suppose.

I wonder what would happen if each supervisor and employee were completely frank?

"You're a control freak!"
"You take no responsibility for your errors!"
"You're a whiner!"
"If you call in sick one more time on a Friday, I'm going to scream!"

Hmmm. Wouldn't that be interesting...

I'm going for the phony approach.

Pray for them

Haiti has essentially been obliterated by a 7.0 earthquake. Wasn't it enough for it to be the poorest country in the western hemisphere? The pain and suffering is unimaginable. We stand by helplessly. We can pray and offer money. What else is there to do?

Are you sure this road leads to enlightenment?

In my quest to get healthier, lose weight, and lower my blood pressure, I've decided to learn yoga. The first class I went to was sublime. The teacher spoke in a soothing voice and reminded us all that if we chose not to do a pose (or couldn't do a pose), we were free to just lie on our mats and breathe. (I'm certain she was looking at me when she said this.) If we wanted to just sit and breathe, she was cool with that. I can do this, I thought. And then I took another class from a different teacher.

I happily went to the class and reassured a person new to the class that it's called "gentle yoga" and that I was quite sure she had nothing to fear. The teacher would be understanding of those of us who couldn't do the poses. And then the class began.

The teacher spoke with a heavy German accent. Though sympathetic, she insisted that we try every pose. "They're not as hard as you may think." I struggled to do the poses, but I tried each one. I even managed to stretch my arms down in front of my prostrate body and nearly (with emphasis on nearly) touch the floor with my palms. I turned my head one direction and my body the other. I was trying. Really, I was.

"Lie down on your stomach," she instructed us.

"Reach your arms behind your back."

"Bend Your legs at the knee and grab your ankles with your hands. If you can't reach your hands, I'll give you a strap to put around your feet so you can reach your hands."

I rolled over onto my ample belly, put my hands behind my back, and came absolutely nowhere near close to grabbing my feet (and my feet are big). I ignored the strap that was next to my mat. I was content with myself. I had caused no injury to myself, I was minding my own business, and no one seemed to care. Well not quite.

"Would you like some help," the teacher asked as she loomed over me, interrupting my deep breathing.

"No, no. I'm fine," I whispered so as not to break the concentration of the rest of the completely silent class.

"Are you sure? It's a great stretch."

"No, no. I'm fine. Really."

"Come on. I'll help you."

"No," I muttered as she straddled my body.

"Here. I'll put the strap around your feet and then you can grab it."

"Ok," I grumbled as she hog tied and quartered me.

"Ok. Relax. I'm going to hold your shoulders."

Relax? Is she serious? She grabbed my shoulders and I hung suspended in the air while Godzilla hovered over me. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.

"Ok. I'm fine now. That's enough," I whispered. No response.

"Really. I'm fine now. That's enough." No response.

To hell with the concentration of the rest of the class. "Let me down!" I implored. I flopped to the floor and Godzilla moved on to the next pose.

I have been enlightened: choose your yoga class carefully.

It's raining squirrels...where can I hide?

Squirrels are dropping from the ceiling like flies! You never know when one might fall on your head! They'll grab your hair and scratch your scalp! Look out, 'cause they may have rabies. One might bite you and you'll be frothing at the mouth and carrying on like a crazy fool. Look out, I tell you. Look out!

Ok, maybe there was just one, but the thought of masses of squirrels running around, building nests, and raising babies in the ceiling is a pretty exciting concept. Can't you imagine them leaping from a grand old tree outside the building, onto the ledge, and then tunneling through holes in the building. I can see teams of them hauling twigs and leaves and hoisting them onto the top of the ceiling panels. Maybe there are whole colonies of them, some conducting business, others creating birthing centers.

Oh well, here's the reality: one little baby squirrel was found running around the office, terrorizing the staff. He was scooped up into a box and let go outside.

I prefer the first version.