Skip to main content

Bumper Cars

I hate bumper cars. Hated them the first time I ever tried them. I got in the little car, excited to get to steer. The signal goes off and all these people I don’t know are out to get me. One second I’m facing one way and the next I’ve been blindsided by some bratty ten-year-old, my car has done a 180 and the back of my head hurts.

My life has been a bit bumper car-ish lately. If you’ve read any of my previous entries, you get the gist I’m a control freak, so quick directional changes are not my thing. But sometimes you don’t have a choice.

Yes, this all sounds a little vague. Some of the changes I can put on my blog, others aren’t as appropriate. Appropriate changes: I’ve started in a new position at the college as a project manager. It’s challenging and fun, but the learning curve is steep and I still sit in many meetings taking notes about things I completely don’t understand. (PeopleSoft, anyone?)

Secondly, I lasted through two sessions of my first grad school class. I’m embarrassed to admit this. I feel like a quitter. (Okay, I am a quitter.) But the classes just didn’t do it for me. Not that they were too challenging – it was organizational development, for Pete’s sake – but it was just a touchy-feely, human resourcey program that does not match at all with my personality or strengths. I’m finally old enough to realize that when things feel wrong, it’s okay to step away. So I did.

The less blog-appropriate changes will remain under wraps. I guess the reason I’m even documenting this is to explain why entries have been MIA lately. It’s hard to type in a bumper car.

Next time, I’ll be more light-hearted and witty. Maybe something about my current kitchen remodel (sigh) or maybe a new dog (awesome). Either way, I’ll try not to wait so long.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Zack, the Smiths and a Gift Card

I’ve lived in my house for three years. Apparently, some guy named Zack has also lived in my house for the past year. Or at least Bill and Annie Smith (not their real names) in Overland Park, Kansas think he lives at my address. They send him a lot of cards – thank you notes, just for fun cards and yesterday, I received Zack’s birthday card. Obviously for me to know what kind of cards they send, I open them. The first time I received one, I “Returned to Sender,” but not since then. They keep on coming and I keep on opening them. It’s like reality TV, but through the mail. I’m not proud of my actions and suspect it’s illegal for me to keep opening Zack’s mail. But now I’m genuinely interested in how he’s doing. Zack got a new job last fall (Attaboy card), gave the Smiths Big 12 Tournament tickets (thank you note), and he had a birthday this week. Until yesterday, there was nothing of value in the cards besides sweet sentiment. But in the birthday card there was a Pla...
2 comments
Read more

The Softride Has Left The Building

Today I bid adieu to my first triathlon bike – a Softride Rocket TT named Sally. (“Ride, Sally, Ride...”) While technically still mine until the ebay auction ends tomorrow, she has been dropped off at the bike store for clean up and packing. We’ll ship her off to the new owner this weekend and that will be the end of my beam bike era. A Softride is considered old school in the triathlon world and is mocked mercilessly by roadies. Sally has a carbon beam, no down tube and 650 wheels – basically the low-rider Cadillac of bikes. While it doesn’t have a stiff suspension or a brag-worthy weight, it has one thing – comfort. This is something I desperately needed when training for my first Ironman. Sally raced at Kona in 2001 and Wisconsin in 2003. She was dependable and attention-getting. Like riding a motorcycle, Softride enthusiasts also offered the casual hand wave when you encountered another one on the road. However, there are fewer out there these days. The Softride...
2 comments
Read more

Adding Some Color

I distinctly remember my first encounter with food coloring. It was love at first chemical-laden sight. Mom and I were icing sugar cookies. We'd made a bowl of white icing. Then she broke out the food coloring. I was memorized by the bright colors and giddy at the thought of mixing them. Like most six year olds, I believed more was better. So the icing started a lovely pink after a few drops of red. Next came lavender with some blue. Then Mom turned her back just long enough for me to reenact the movie Cocktail with food coloring. Every color was going in and hell with a few drops, more is better. This is fantastic, I thought, as I created a rainbow in the bowl. I stirred with glee until I realized the rainbow was disappearing. The icing was turning a disgusting shade of gray-brown. This was terrible. No one wants to eat icing that looks like poop. So you're thinking, nice little story Jen. Way to point out that more isn't necessarily better. But that's actually n...
2 comments
Read more