No use complaining about the daily onslaught of dreadful news. The upside is we made it to June. And now here it is, bustin’ out all over.
At least we had beer for the journey. But just because we can’t have nice things, today’s newspaper reported Track 7, our favorite local brewery, is closing permanently. No reasons were provided, but I assume it’s related to the economy.
Does that mean it’s Biden’s fault?
We’re currently featuring Track 7’s Panic IPA in the kegerator, so we shall propose a farewell toast before that kicks. Perhaps we’ll head on over to Total Wines & More and see if there’s a spare keg to be had. We have room in the kegerator for a backup.
These are the times that try men’s souls. Thankfully, we still have Jameson Black Barrel. Proof God wants us to be happy.
Speaking of men, not to be confused with God, I was reading an article about the history of the LGBTQ movement in Washington, D.C., and they quoted a lesbian who said it was so great to find a community of women who didn’t exist to please men. Maybe I signed up for the wrong team.
Although I do my best to please one man, I have pretty much ignored the rest of it. I never dressed the part, never acted the part. I did what I had to do to get by at work, where pleasing men was a core competency. That said, my career highlights included catering to the whims of high-ranking women.
One female boss told me I’d be pretty if I wore a little makeup. In another job, I briefed a woman exec and asked if she had any questions. She said, “Wherever did you get those ugly shoes?”
Ugly as in comfortable. Teetering around on stilettos was never my thing. Take it from me, you gotta be ready to run.
Anyway, I was in communications … or PR as we used to call it. Dale always said that stood for porking the rich. Special events were always a showcase for privileged buffoons behaving badly. Communicators were deeply involved in planning special events, and by the time they were over, I hated everyone.
The stories I could tell!!
Being retired and turning 70 this year, I can honestly say it feels good to ignore the pressure to please anyone except Dale and possibly my cat. Not that either one notices. As I have said before, the bad news is that my self-editing feature seems to be down. I tried rebooting it, but I’m still spewing a lot of things that might be better left unsaid.
On the food front, I made waffles last week, and they were delicious. I never order them in a restaurant because you usually get fake maple syrup. I only want the real thing, which I could drink from the bottle like Buddy from Elf.
I wanted another run on the waffles, but ever eager to please my man, we went with buckwheat pancakes, another family favorite. Dale buys bulk breakfast sausage and then freezes them in small patties. So we each had one of those on the side.
The cherry season is here! I never liked cherries until last year, and now I love them. I even bought a cherry pitter. We went to the farmer’s market this morning, and I bought a basket for $6. That seemed steep, but what isn’t? I also bought a big bag of walnuts.
Dale’s making fajitas tonight. He’s whipping up the marinade for the meat now. We went to Safeway for tortillas because we didn’t have the right size. And I say that as someone with a drawer in the refrigerator dedicated to tortillas. We also have a cheese drawer.
It was beastly hot yesterday but nice today, so we’ll eat outside. We always wait until the last minute to set up the music, so then we don’t. But this time I’m getting it all prepped in advance. Nothing like some good tunes to liven up the party.
That, and homemade fudgsicles for dessert!
Funny this came today, because just yesterday I decided on a way I would characterize my career going forward. People often ask me what I did for a living and the answer is so complicated and I think I say something different every time.
I was talking with a friend and what I said about my 42 year career as a queer woman working in design engineering was that “I worked in Dick World”. I am going to try to stick to that answer.
Dick World — I believe I’ve been there.
You are living the good life despite the fact that TACO drops crap on us every day. Carry on.
At least the TACO humor is pretty awesome. There are some funny videos out there.
I love your comment about the shoes at work. I often wore Dansko’s. My male boss told me they were ugly, not very corporate like. I told him that if necessary I could get a doctor’s order for them given my numerous problems with my feet. Up to him how I spend my time that day.
So glad the petty comments and bs are in my past with these bosses.
I also loved Dansko. Shoes were always so hard — trying to dress the part but refusing to wear cruel shoes. I don’t miss it, either.
Donna, this post is stand-up comedy worthy! Yeah, it’s not just the male species that has to be catered to at our jobs. It took me a good portion of my life to find my voice & stand up & say who I was & to say no. I had one husband who said I was too independent for my own good. I believe I was too independent for his good! At any rate, here I am 40 yrs later having to please no one but myself, not even a cat!
I’m glad this one resonated with you. We all need to stand up for ourselves. It’s a tricky balance sometimes, but I’m glad you figured it out.
Thank God for humor! And clever people who write blogs that help keep the rest of us sane.
Thanks for making me laugh tonight. I sure did need it!
My pleasure!
I need to learn how to turn off my self-editing feature. But then curse words might become my main words – oh dear!
Again, it’s the balancing act. I find self-editing to be somewhat important, but you can’t let it run your life. I do let things slip out way more than I used to. Oh, well. At least my livelihood is not affected.
I really shouldn’t read your blog before lunch. When I want a restaurant waffle, I bring my own syrup because, like you, I only want the real thing. Now I want a waffle. . .
Unlike others, I loved wearing high heels. They made me 6 feet tall, which felt pretty powerful. But I never wore them anywhere but the office. They lived in a box under my desk. Now it’s pretty much sneakers everywhere, although I do have a pair of Danskos for the few occasions I have to dress up.
There you go, BYOS. I even have a little bottle that I could stick in my purse. I recall asking one waiter if the syrup was real, and he said, “I can’t guarantee it came from a tree.” I no longer ask.
As for shoes, I could go as far as a wedge, and I remember the feeling of being so much taller. It was rather fun.
I never wore truly high heels, but the moment I left the work world, the few low heels I had went on the donation pile. I find it infuriating how many men feel they have the right to comment on what a woman wears. If they like high heels so much, they can wear them. And smile more too.
Good stuff as usual, Donna.
Thanks for the kind feedback! I spent more than I care to admit on expensive low-heeled shoes that didn’t really fix the problem. They were cute, though. Now it’s Birkenstock and Hoka.