The image in my head is the second scene of "Connie and Carla", where the fearless singers/performers are giving their all as they perform in front of a listless and uncaring –not to mention sparse-- crowd in an airport lounge.
I'm fairly certain I hear crickets. I know that by now there very few people who bother to check in here anymore, seeing as I update about as frequently as Pepe LePew scores with that hot little black pussycat. I just seem to be caught in a weird state of apathetic mediocrity: I'm neither terribly sad, nor freakishly happy; I'm fairly bland and blah. And when I think about writing about that bland and blah, I just kinda go… ehhhh.
At Work:
There have been scary layoffs at work in the last couple of months. It seemed like every Monday, we'd hear about people who left the previous Friday for the last time. Thankfully, I haven't heard of any recent layoffs in the last two weeks, and I'm really hoping it's over for now. Even though our VP/Controller told us in Financial Reporting that our department had no planned staff reductions—seeing as we're already stretched stupidly thin—I've been the victim of layoffs before, and know that no one is safe, no matter what someone says in a meeting.
At Home:
I have a new ob-gyn, an older Indian lady who works in a labcoat-covered sari. I wasn't sure if I was going to like her, as she is so blunt and to the point about everything that it is almost—almost—offensive. But I decided that I could handle that, and even like it a little bit, having someone I know isn't going to sugarcoat things or beat around the bush. This woman tells it like it is, and if you don't like it, tough. The fact that she has an incredibly thriving practice should tell you something, though.
My General Health:
Is shit. I can't believe I'm going to actually put this in writing, set in stone so to speak, for all posterity. Since my miscarriage 17 months ago, I have gained 40 pounds.
40.
Forty.
Yes, that's a 4 with a 0 behind it. And seeing as I was already generously-sized, this is just ridiculous. Apparently depression + quitting a pack a day + apathy= an even bigger ass. Who knew? I have been smoking more lately, probably in shock over the size of my ass, but it's still a fairly small and manageable addiction at a pack a fortnight. I don't think the smoking will increase much more, since I will not smoke inside and it's too blazing hot to go outside too often to smoke.
***
A quick aside, speaking of the weather: We skipped the end of spring. One day it was spring weather, and then we had tornados a couple of weekends ago. When the haze of the tornados passed, it was suddenly freaking, full-blown SUMMER. It was 100 degrees yesterday, I kid you not.
I'm going to California on vacation next week, and was looking at weather projections and averages. Dude. Their so-called HIGHS? Um, yeah, they're about equal to our LOWS. And out there, I won't be struggling to breathe air that's like steam. I can't wait.
