meeting expectations

End of year performance management review. Oh yeah, this year I am "meeting expectations."   I am not a "meet expectations" chick.  I "exceed expectations." In fact, I am a "far exceeder." Now the fact that a new manager took over this year and my old managers have both loved me might have something to do about this.  The fact that I work with a group of A+ people, yeah that too has something to do with it. Because I Never just "met expectations." My coworker (one person in particular) "meets expectations." And I hate to be lumped in that group. And there is a difference if my work between the other persons:


"They" read the group newsletter.  I write, edit and publish it. I spend a good 5-7 hours a month making this happen. There are days that it has to be out so I stay at work 1-2 hours after the end of my shift to make sure it happens (because of the late submissions, sometimes I have to stay late.  Oh and the person submitting the late article, the person judging me as "meeting expectations."


"They" show up to the team building activities that happen.  I help plan, set up, and contribute to more spendy aspects of the event and clean up too. Oh yeah, so others are able to participate, I cover the clinic so "they" can eat and collaborate with all of the team. And the judge of my "expectation" level....yeah well.


"They" make mistakes of consequence causing others to have to re-work. I don't. If making mistakes is "meeting expectations?"  Maybe I really "does not meet expectations."


Overtime? Sure! 2-4 hours weekly, plus work through lunch, see patients as soon as the bell rings, and tackle the complex issues that arise frequently.  Oh and a go to person when questions arise when the judge is not in this location.

Sick call? Nope not my style.



So OK I am kvetching now. But really? "Meet expectations?" Really I know there are people who do a hell of a lot more than I do, but to be lumped into the same group of "meets expectations" I am more than offended.


Or doing too much.

time

Time passes.  Of course it does.  But it amazes me how fast it is happening. Almost 8700 days have passed since my first name changed to mom. How my life changed with that! No longer could I even go to the bathroom without a little voice wondering where I was, or screaming for me to come out.

Ten years ago, my life was redefined. I shed an old shell and became new. I changed, but did not change at all. But the world saw me differently, and I had to accept that viewpoint. And by looking from that precipice, I was able to reach that life that I had only visualized.

Fifteen months later, I left the mountains and moved to the sound and lake. And once again redefined. Stretching wings and brain cells into a new definition of my old career. And became an adult. Again.  Buying a real adult house with real adult furniture and very real adult responsibilities and bills. But best of all the full time partner in a real adult partnership.

Six years, four months and twenty-three days later it was officially recognized.

And today a new phase. The starting of the passings. The first loss of someone in the generation before me. My aunt.  Not particularly a close relation, but very close to my mother. I feel sad for her because I have a sister that I really love and feel close.  As close as we can be living on opposite coasts.

Rest well auntie, no more pain.
 

Yo B***h!

Yeah how bad am I?  I agree, pretty vanilla pudding. Not like the "breaking bad" kind.  But dang what a great idea. Even though I don't have the guts to try anything remotely illegal.  Remember me? The daughter of a Marine who even in his 75 year old spinal stenosed and diabetic neuropathic riddled body could beat the living plasma out of me for even thinking about wavering from the straight and narrow.

But over the last two weekends, hubs and I have consumed almost the entire four seasons of "Breaking Bad" on Netflix. Count it up, that's well over 40 hours of mayhem and debauchery.


I am addicted.


So is Herb.


On our walks we pass a motor home and we discuss how we could buy that to"cook" in.  When asked if he want's some breakfast, "yo bi**h" is the reply. We spend the millions we can make if we retired to the dark side. 


Or we could retire to the grey side and garden for a retirement?  We have discussed that as well. Although I have to say, given the skills we already have, maybe we should just stick to the vino, where we are already so well versed.  We know the plan for producing a decent vint, and can easily and legally consume, as long as no sales are involved. Perhaps that will be well enough for us.


If not, I am really great at swearing!

Missing Myself

Crazy week.  Seriously really crazy week.

No blog post for the last few days, no page views either... interesting! I have had actually a number of silly thoughts that could make a post only to be lost in oblivion by the time I was able to sit down and try to put pen to paper-- rather fingers to keyboard.  All three fingers.

This week cancer keeps coming to the forefront of my brain.  Not only with patients sharing their cancer stories with me and friends with polyps in their colons (benign thankfully) and my aunt laying on her deathbed with hospice counting her every breath. (Why would a hospice nurse be concerned about constipation? really? Or is there a different message there?)

So what is the universe telling me? There really needs to be some greater message.  But maybe that is just it. No big message.  Rather, no big message?  Why not? So, three is the charm and now I can be done.  Except I really need to schedule that colonoscopy for myself.  So I can look at the universe and breathe a little sigh of relief. (fingers crossed)

And on the lighter side, amazing sleep for the last few days, and the crazy dreams have calmed.  With the exception of Monday night, rather Tuesday AM with a jolt from sleep at 4 AM with no hope of further sleep for the night.  But the last two nights....perfect. Discussing my sleep...pretty boring,  That should be enough to put anyone to sleep.  So I shall now.  

And tomorrow perhaps a more coherent thought with some entertainment value. Or not.

busted!

I was so almost busted yesterday.  No we did not drink too much wine and get pulled over, although I did show my adult daughter views from Washington Wine Country.

Early in the day my kiddo throws out her first bone.  It was early and I had only had one cuppa joe, so I knew I needed to be wary.  She has a habit of throwing out something and letting me talk.  And then jumping on me with the info she already knew.  

Yesterday was no different. 

"I read your blog. " 

Yikes am I busted?  Some of you may know that I am hiding out in plain site by blogging here.  Long story but suffice to say it was just short of a restraining order.

"Oh really?" I say, ""and?"  (perfect non committal and doesn't give her any information that she doesn't already have. 

"And you are kind of funny, actually," she relied.

OK, so now I gotta know if I am still hidden.  "What did you read about?"

"Don't you remember?  I guess it was a while since you posted something."

Whew, I think I might still be in the clear. "Yeah I don't really blog anymore.  Show me what you read."

Score! She pulls up my old site "the world according to gidge," I remain sequestered.

"How funny that you found this.  How did you find it?" 

OK, so all of you out there thinking all the stuff you do that you don't think your kids will find out, she tells me she "googled Aunt H and found her blog, (she's really funny too) and saw that you had commented and followed that link to your blog."

This my friends is exactly why I do not sleep in anymore!  The moral of this story, google yourself and all your friends and family to find out what's out there.  Oh and don't write anything your don't want your kid to see.

wine-ing weekend

Tomorrow we start our yearly pilgrimage to Eastern Washington.  This year for the Zin. The big bold red grape is finally ready to be picked.   The grapes this year are reported to be great! Perfect spring, high heat units, great hang time, big yield, no frost.  All the makings of a great vint this year. This year, we are making a small batch (only 250 pounds) so we shouldn't have contorted backs after lifting, packing, stemming crushing and initiating the ferment.

I love this trek. For the past 9 years I have made the great grape quest with Herb yearly.  We start at o'dark hundred and make a day of racing to Zillah or Prosser or places further.

This year our grapes are once again from a favorite vineyard, Portteus from Zillah WA, another place in my heart on Highland drive. (Topic for a picture post of Highland Drive/Street/Avenue favorite places in my life.)

This time I get to share a passion with my adult daughter.  For the first time.  Our kids have not been very interested in the hobbies we enjoy.  Who can blame them, really.  Seriously my parents never did anything of interest....until I moved out, and/or turned 25, had a child or any combination of all the aforementioned. 

And  so tomorrow we will share a long car ride, a yummy lunch at one of my favorite Mexican (the real thing not a Taco Time franchised fast "food" gut filler) restaurants with a tiny bit of wine and port tasting in the Zillah area.  And we show her how our wine starts.  How we find some great grapes, and hope to Baccus we don't screw them up.  How basic chemistry enriches our life. And how we like to spend our autumn in hopes of basking in accolades in 2 years when this years harvest is finally sipped.

And perhaps we will become that much closer.

Or we can just get drunk, fat and pray for sleep on the ride home.

made it!

Many years ago, I was told I would be a writer. I listened, but did not realistically believe it would be so.  The prophecy also suggested I would live by water, in the northwest.  At that time I was planning a trek to the east, some small town closer to a sister, who the further away she moved the closer we became.  So my plans included humidity, high taxes and a new frenetic lifestyle.  But writing? Northwest?  No way.

So fast forward to now.  I am a Northwesterner to the point that there is webbing between my toes (you aren't the only one Ellen). I live by a big lake. And I write. Yeah this little bloggy thing, but the thing that is getting me a distinction is a silly newsletter that has become a monthly email my coworkers have come to enjoy.  My boss and boss's boss all have given me accolades for my "work."  But I knew I made it when after more than a year of publishing my little tome, the one naysayer to the project, the person who refused to participate on any level finally did.  And additionally sent me one sentence that ended with, "I look forward to reading the newsletter monthly."

Oh yeah I made it!

Even though I am far from being a card carrying "writer."

And now a comment on this little blog.

I am doing the happy dance.  Not only do I have two "followers" but a comment from someone who IS a writer.  Something I wrote provoked her to take the time to say something. (Thanks Libby.)

And it made me smile.