SBMS-A Real Syndrome, A Real Problem
Filed under: Board of Directors, Mental Strain for Mama
I once worked for a very cranky man who suffered from short bald man's syndrome. It was not a pleasant time in my life. In addition to suffering from SBMS, he also had a real problem with chauvinism and thought that if you were a girl and working for him, then it was perfectly ok for him to run his hand up the back of your leg. Man, how I wish I had known how to do a good back kick back in the day.
The other day, I was at the club, helping Big I with homework and finishing up the last couple bites of my dinner after putting in an 8 hour day of working on the new bar area, when I was approached by a man with this syndrome, except add "fat" to it which mulitplies the problem ten-fold. In addition to SFBMS, he also had a problem with close-talking.
I happen to despise close talkers. It's probably because of the night that Hanshi spent a great deal of time talking about proper distancing and what to do with your hands when someone is coming at you aggressively. I like my space and you'll probably notice me backing up to reestablish my space if you're getting too close to me.
This particular man approached me, stood too close and said "You're on the board right?" and then proceeded to act like I had said or done something to ignite his temper despite the fact that he was upset about things that had happened before I was even born. He ranted about craziness for quite some time and I listened respectfully while also playing a whole lot of Devil's Advocate with him. He reminded me he voted for me as if he was the only one who had; I reminded him that a lot of other people did too.
It is becoming very clear to me, why some board members don't spend much time at the club. It is absolutely impossible to have a quick conversation with someone while there. It is impossible to eat your dinner without interruption.
I am wondering what this summer will be like, when I'm spending my time at the pool with the girls. Will I be bombarded with craziness all summer long too? Will I be able to enjoy any time with my family without having to discuss issues related to the board?
I am quickly approaching becoming the not-so-nice version of myself that is going to tell people to put it in writing and send me an email instead of taking up my time with my family. In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm already there.
Wipe Out
This morning I expected to see a bunch of snow on the ground again but we only got a light dusting. I left a little early for campus, wanting to get to the classroom a couple minutes early to get my powerpoint presentation up and ready.
I arrived on campus 10 minutes early and got out of my car. The parking lot wasn't even coated with snow, except for one area. I incorrectly assumed that it was just snow and walked at a decent pace right onto an ice arena of hell.
It was a banana split fall of epic proportions.
My right foot was on the ground one second, and the next it was flying straight up in the air in front of me. I heard myself say "Woah" and then I took the name of the Lord in vain as I slammed onto the ice. . . hard.
Two teachers walking about 10 feet in front of me stopped and asked me if I was ok. A car behind me in the parking lot stopped and a girl actually got out of the driver's side to ask if I was ok. Turns out she was one of my students.
Perfect.
I got back to my feet, said I was fine and then I looked at my hands as another faculty member brushed off my icy butt. I had two bloody hands and the one was dripping pretty good.
I slowly made my way into the building where I teach and followed the one woman to financial aid where she outfitted me with first aid cream and bandaids.
I arrived two minutes late to my class. My student who had witnessed the fall had a look of concern on her face. "Oh my God," she said, "Are you OK?"
I assured her that as soon as I got my hand to stop bleeding I would be fine. And then I did what any good teacher does. I poked fun at myself throughout the class and used the topic of falling on your butt in public as a speech topic. Sometimes, when God knows you're lacking material or motivation, he finds a way to give you some I guess. That God is a funny dude sometimes.
A couple hours later, my hands are cut up and my right hand is extremely sore. My butt is also feeling a bit cranky, but apparently I did a decent breakfall. I smacked my hands on the ground with such force that I ripped them up a bit. But I didn't land on my elbows, wrists, or horror of all horrors, my head.
And I managed to keep my open school bag that was already threatening to spill pre-fall, and purse on my shoulder the whole time. Clearly, I am talented.
Clearly.
Buried
Filed under: Board of Directors, Mental Strain for Mama
I haven't been blogging much at all. In fact, I haven't been doing much of anything blog or martial arts related lately. The screw in my knee is protruding more and more and I need to make an appointment soon. I just am delaying entering back into that world of knee crap again. I don't want to go there, understandably so.
Instead of doing what I should be doing, I've been throwing myself full force into the board position at the country club. The sports bar pitch I made on Monday night was voted through, so now all the getting quotes and meeting with contractors has shifted to ripping down wallpaper and supervising the project so that everything turns out as planned. I am both excited and nervous. I am constantly thinking, "if you build it, they will come" and am really hoping this is true. If we spend the money, build it and they don't? Well, it'll be my head on the chopping block for sure. I've stretched my neck out far for this one, used all my persuasive skills, and am holding out hope that it will all turn out ok.
In addition to being buried by country club business, we've been buried. . . literally. . .
The side of our house. We actually had to go out in the storm to clear our furnace vent because the snow drifts were so high.
We were so thankful to friends and neighbors who showed up to help with the digging out. It was pretty intense.
That would be our extremely buried mailbox that took Mr. BBM several hours to dig out.
The snow piles from the street. . .
The snow drifts off our rock wall that are waist high on adults. . .
Half of our holly tree with the nearby butterfly bushes completely covered.
The snow drifts on our patio and our covered patio table. . .
Needless to say, we are not thrilled about the prospect of another 6 inches on Monday night. My class at the university is quickly turning into an independent study course. This is truly insanity.
A Snowy Public Service Announcement
All week long, Mr. BBM was warning me that my birthday plans for tonight were going to be ruined. They called for a foot of snow but I wasn't buying it. "It will probably only be a couple inches," I told him. However, when I woke up this morning there was an insane amount of snow.
Still, I was hopeful. And then the Governor declared a state of emergency and I'm guessing that traveling to the local nightclub does not count as an "emergency" need to be on the roads.
The whole family went outside to shovel and play in the snow. Lil C had a bit of an issue with staying on her feet.
I shoveled for a while as I enviously stared at my neighbor's with snowblowers and shot them pleading, begging looks. . . Apparently they didn't notice.
Mr. BBM and I took turns on and off and then he disappeared and I almost died finishing the sidewalk.
When he brought the girls back from sledding in the park, Lil C had done several face-plants and Mr. BBM took her inside.
Then he came out to resume shoveling and started having chest pains. . .
But I was kind of busy. . .
There's a moral to this story somewhere. When I figure it out I'll let you know.
Oh, and in case you didn't notice, I am no longer blonde after my 2.5 hour hair appointment yesterday. BBM is now offically dark and mysterious.
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