Today is the last day of work before my company closes for the holiday; I only had to work until 11:30. I was awesomely productive with desk work until 10:00 when I had a meeting scheduled. Of all my project teams, I was meeting with my favorite. We've worked together on our project for about two years now, and we have all become good friends. Our conversations steered away from our agenda almost immediately.

Karen started talking about her dog…her dog Max who goes to doggie day care every day. Apparently they gave him "dog nog" the other day (which I had never heard of but Google says it exists). Before I consulted with Google, I challenged the existence of the eggnog for dogs. Mona piped in that she's heard of it, but some dogs are allergic.

Karen:
"Yeah, some dogs are sensitive to the whey…"

Mona:
"Isn't whey in a lot of dog food too?" Karen nodded.

Karen (softly, almost singing):
"…eating her curds and whey!"

Mona:
"Hah! Yeah! Curds and whey!"

Then "whey" became a funny word for some reason, and Patty and Becky started to have an entire conversation using only that word and varied intonation.

Patty:
"Whey?"

Becky:
"Whey!"

Me (distracted by an email I was answering):
"I don't like spiders."

Now, I thought this was perfectly in line with the conversation because they were talking about Little Miss Muffet, weren't they? And didn't a spider come along and scare her away? Well, it would have scared me away too, and that's reason enough to dislike spiders.

But apparently, they were not thinking of what scared Little Miss Muffet or Little Miss Muffet at all. They thought I was suffering some sort of psychotic break: why else would I randomly confess my dislike for spiders? The room was suddenly engulfed with laughter—and not just any laughter, but the kind of laughter that reduces you to tears and that you just can't snap out of…the contagious kind that goes on long after the subject is forgotten.

Me (focused now and speaking in my best bored monotone):
"'Little Miss Muffet sat on her tuffet, eating her curds and whey. Along came a SPIDER who sat down beside her, and frightened Miss Muffet away.' You know, you really shouldn't put someone down just because their brain works better than yours."

I went back to my email before Karen started talking to me through hiccuping starts and stops.

Karen:
"You're just like my husband. We were watching TV one night and he just up and says, 'I hate snakes.'"

Mona:
"Can you imagine the conversation? She'd say, 'I don't like spiders.' He'd say, 'I hate snakes.' One of them would say, 'Will you be my friend?'"

Though I have no proof, I am sure that Karen's husband was making perfect sense at the time. I bet he'd be an awesome friend who wouldn't mistake my brilliance for idiocy like everyone else seems to!

It snowed yesterday. I sat in one of the conference rooms at work and watched it fall. The whole room of people groaned: it was the first snow of the season.

I started thinking of things that would make this time of year easier. I mused aloud, "Why do I still live here?"

Someone replied, "Because summer and fall are beautiful."

"Okay, you got me." I guess that means I'm staying, and I need to work with what I've got. I replied back, "I can stand snow in December. I can't stand snow any other time."

My project manager replied, "If there's no snow, you can't snowshoe." (She and I spoke of the activity only days before.)

"Okay. I will allow it to snow on 10 Saturdays on the condition that it be melted by Sunday."

Some brave person spoke up and said what we were all kind of thinking. "It looks so pretty, doesn't it?"

And it did look pretty. The snowstorm was made of those big fluffy flakes that taste so perfect when you catch them on your tongue, and the dormant dullness of late fall was gone with a brush of glitter.

"Yeah. Okay, so I want to alter my service level agreement one final time. I will allow snow from November to the end of February. I really must insist that it all be gone by March. Nonnegotiable."

Someone else asked, "...and the small print?"

"It's not allowed to snow, sleet, or precipitate in any way on the roads or walkways."

The PM replied, "I think we can all agree that that's fair. And your implementation strategy?"

Urgh...




(Anyone out there know who I need to talk to? I can be VERY persuasive!)

I was sitting in my second meeting of the morning with my friend, K.

Meetings are always better when I have a friend there with me in the room (better, but probably a touch less productive). K is sweet and funny—lackadaisical but driven. I met her earlier this year, and we bonded instantly. She's just as girly as I am if not more, and I love getting goofy with people who uphold the same unimportant standards that I do.

K started an email to forward me a document. She remarked after several starts and stops that she was having trouble typing today. I looked at her hands with their fresh coat of shimmering burgundy polish. "Looks like it's time to cut the nails," I murmured drolly.

If looks. could. kill.

She eyed me up and down where I sat. All snotty, she spat, "Looks like it's time to wear something besides a dress."

I raised my eyebrow. "...never happen."

She raised her eyebrow. "I rest my case."

Indignant and both offended by stupid suggestions, we went back to talking about work.

Conversation while walking out of the movie theater:

Nick: Gah! Another Beatles poster!

("A Hard Day's Night" and "Help!")

Laura: Yeah. Because the Beatles are the alpha and the omega. And you're STUPID because you don't know that.

Nick: Are you calling me stupid!?

Laura: About the Beatles, yes I am.

Nick: Well YOU married me. So I guess that makes you MRS. Stupid.

Well played, my dear, well played.

Michelle: I tried to drink soy milk when I stopped being able to drink regular milk, but I didn't care for the sweetness.

Laura: Oh, are you lactose intolerant now?

Michelle: Yeah, it's been hard cutting out milk. Sometimes I have a bit in cereal, but even that's a crapshoot.

Laura: (Stumbles. Tries to wipe the grin off her face.)

Michelle: (Looks back, concerned.) What's wrong with you?

Laura: (Openly grinning now.)

Michelle: OH! Yeah—ha! Yes, it really is a crapshoot!