I’ve had a busy week, which was capped off by career week at the rainbow corp I work for. I’m getting alerts that I’m behind in planning out my career goals.
Career goals.
FFS, I’m 60 years old. I have a deep and wide skillset that eclipses many in my industry. Hand it to me, I’ll do it.
What are my goals?
Stay employed for five more years, at what I’m making, so I can fuck off and go part time doing something I want to do. I don’t care if it’s in a fuggin body shop sanding cars. What’s funny is my boss is around my age. She cracks up when we have these talks. Everyone in my group, except maybe one or two, is over fifty.
Today is the last of the career webinars. It’s on ED&I. Usually, I don’t bother tuning into these. But, there is entertainment value. Last time I watched one, it was a dour black director (who wants to save her people), teamed with an ancient lesbian and two trannies. One of the trannies was a big dude with bleached hair, that kept flipping his blonde locks like a valley girl.
You can’t make this shit up.
The whole talk, at least as much as I could take, was how to dress and tune your look for success.
Wut?
Nothing on how you would break into the business. No tips on training, how to navigate the corporate waters, whatever.
I have some advice for these types. The same advice I deal out to anyone; Be so stinking skilled that they’ll put up with whatever bullshit you have in your life.
There it is.
I remember telling a tech, way back in the day, that he wasn’t skilled enough to be that big of a prima donna.
So there it is.
But, fuggit. It’s Friday!
Good lord, look at him go, at that age. Dude was truly a wonder of the world.
Last week, I broke into that bag of rye flour, found a rezibe and made rye bread…
It was stunning.
But, I followed the recipe and it said to divide the dough. That was a mistake. I should’ve stuffed it all into my cast iron bread pan. That said, it made a small square loaf, and a bigger nicer round one. The round one you see got wiped out that day.
I’ll poast the rezibe when I perfect it. I didn’t have all the ingredients. I have them now, and I’ll make a loaf this coming weekend because it was head and tails better than a store bought loaf.
A few weekends ago we had two grandsons over the weekend. So the dogs went to a slumber party at Aria’s mom’s house. Our neighbor fostered Aria, and they love having her over. It’s been getting funny, because our neighbor is maybe 90lbs soaking wet, and Aria, at 65 lbs, blasts into her so fast she knocks her off her feet. So the boys had a great time. Old man went to Lowes and bought kids woodworking kits. I had to buy two small hammers, since I don’t own one small enough for pre-kindergarten boys to handle. It’s the first tool for them and I’ll be building kits for them. Every visit, I’ll have a new tool for them to use, and it’ll go in their toolbox for when they visit Papa.
But the dogs were gone, and fat stuff – Bonzai, my ancient cat, came out to look around:
She spent an hour or two on my lap watching the new season of Clarkson’s farm with me.
Man, I’ve missed that. But the dogs will kill her. So she stays in the back. To be honest, after we moved here, she’s shown little interest in exploring or even going outside. She’s at least 12 years old. An old lady, in cat years, and can’t be bothered. Toothless, my daughter’s black cat, insisted on staying outside most of the time, and being unaccusomed to being so close to a secondary road, got run over.
I got tired of all the nasty, chewed toys around and chucked them out. Then I went to wally world and got Jet a new basketball. He loves them. Usually, the $5 version lasts 30 seconds before being popped. This one was $15 or so. A Spaulding street basketball. He went to it for a couple days before I had to let out enough air for him to pop it. He was literaly whining because he couldn’t defeat it. He could grab it and carry it around but it wasn’t popping.
It took him three days, which is what I wanted.
Now, we have a wasted basketball, which is the #1 toy they bring for me to play tug-of-war and fetch. Aria will grab it, run around the yard, drop it for me to chuck, grab it, and smash it in Jet’s face. Too funny to watch.
This weekend I have a spa to clean, plants to separate, and check on Daughter #1’s move.
This week’s Haikus:
Three things are certain:
Death, taxes, and lost data.
Guess which has occurred.
Having been erased,
The document you’re seeking
Must now be retyped.
Have a good one.
Inspected By Pat 