this week's stuff

We spoke to Patrick’s Grandma, Zelma, last night. She doesn’t do the email thing and every time I think to call her it is day time here and I forget when I get home, so when it popped into my head last night, well this morning at 1:30 am, I picked up the phone. She is fine, not perfect but fine. It was really nice talking to her. Anyhow, the funny thing was she said it was suppose to be 80 degrees in Mesa, AZ yesterday. It is a bit above freezing here and was actually snowing when we called. Freaky.

Last week was a bad week. Things did not go smoothly. I can no longer make out going calls from my mobile as I had a little mix-up at my bank. We were told, when we moved here, that we had a 5000 DM credit line at Volksbank. We have been operating under this assumption for 3 years. We found out, when they returned my payment to E-Plus, that this is not the case. In fact we have NO credit line. The credit line we did have was only for 3 months when we moved here. For 3 years we have let the account go a bit negative as we have to go to the bank every time we need to put money in it, which is a pain, so we tend to be erratic about it. It has never been too much until January, which was because of Christmas and being so busy when we came back. Also conspiring against us is the fact that, unlike the US, if you miss one payment to your phone company, they cut you off. very frustrating to get it all straightened out. Thank God for Jan, my colleague is the finest IT group at all of HP, who has been advising and translating for me. Thanks Jan.

Also, I am frustrated at work. I won’t go into to much detail but I am be micromanaged by some people and I don’t appreciate it. At a certainly level of management you have to step out of the detail and let the process owners, such as myself take it. I did have a major victory Friday night as Patrick and I were able to reproduce the infamous ‘web reports’ in Access. Yippee!

I haven’t heard from my mom. She has sent me a few informational emails but she is still quiet on OUR problem. It makes me sad. If I think to hard about it I cry. It feels like a rock and a hard place. Sure, we all experience those but this is with my mom. Sometimes I think that even with my talents, I am too much trouble. When things are going well, or even when things are stressful, I do an excellent job, in some cases better than others (not always and not everyone) but when things are really bad, like now, I can’t handle it. I make mistakes. I hurt people with my less than effective communication. So is it worth the good parts? I know I could change. I know I could learn, but I haven’t found a mentor. I don’t know anyone who has the time, energy or wisdom. It isn’t that I don’t know a lot of people that are able to balance it and excel, I just don’t know any that have the time or energy to help me. I ask questions, but when I am in the moment, I can’t think straight. I just want to help, to make things better for everyone that has to ‘deal’ with it, but I don’t know how to keep the balance myself. I have parts of the equation. I have learned and improved but I am at a precipice and I need a leader. Other than that, I don’t really think I am worth it. Too frustrating and demanding on an off cycle. This is what I struggle with in life. No amount of reassurance will solve it. I have to feel that I have control over myself. With that though, I do need help. Just not sure where to get it. I think I am not alone in this frustration, this goal. I think lots of people feel this way. I am just more extreme. Everything about me is extreme, that is both the benefit and the burden.

We put wheels on Susette this weekend. Now I can move her around and get a much better look. She has a new look on now. I think I will wear it this week. I’ll let you know which outfit is when I put it up on the site. The week’s outfit reminds me, somehow, of a mannequin or librarian. I am not staying librarians are stiff, it is a stereotype, which is what I was going for. It is different for me. Demure while sexy. I like it. Cheers.

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