My nose is defective. (Also, more on my job.)

I have come to this conclusion kind of gradually, and now, after several years, I am able to just say it. My nose is pretty much the most dishonest part of my body. (Sometimes I smile when I'm really mad, so I guess my mouth is kind of dishonest too, but what can ya do. My nose still takes the cake.)

I've always really likedd my nose. I mean it's not huge or embarrassing, I don't have terrible allergies, and I've never broken it so it's still the same nose it's always been. But I've started to realize over this past year or so that my nose is just very unreliable. You know how people say things like, "Just follow your nose" and "Your nose knows," etc.? Well they've obviously never met my nose. Because it hardly ever knows what it's smelling.

For example. One time in September or so, I was in some friend's apartment across the street from where I lived and suddenly I smelled French toast. I knew I was smelling French toast. I was sure of it. And they were using cinnamon which is the best way to make French toast. I was in a boys apartment and I thought it was very admirable that one of them was doing something so domestic as making French toast. I decided to commend them on this by saying, "Oh! Who's making French toast?" and then praising the chef. But no one came forward. In fact, everyone kind of stopped and said, "No one's making French toast." So then I thought they were joking because they didn't want to share. Then I discovered that what I was actually smelling was fried eggs. UM. Howww did I mix these two things up?

Another time I was nannying, just hanging out with Malan. She had these little "Magic Grow" sea creatures that we were going to try out. You just put them in warm water and they grow to 4x their original size. I was wondering how they do this, and so, being the scientific-minded person that I am, I took one out and smelled it. I immeditely identified the smell as tanning lotion and gave myself a mental pat on the back (even though this still gave me no clues as to why it grows in warm water). Then I handed it to Malan, who smelled it as well and said, "Why does it smell like play-dough?" I hastily retracted the pat on the back and told her I didn't know why. Seriously, why is my nose so inept?

In other news, I am at telemarketing today and I would just like to take this time to describe a little bit what goes on in this office. I work in this executive park in Columbia; it's very nice and even though I'm just telemarketing I have to dress up and look professional. I work Tuesday nights all by myself, Wednesday nights with just me and Dave, and Thursday during the day with everyone. I guess I should start out by introducing the characters.

First of all, there's Dave. Dave has been doing telemarketing for about 15 years, so I'm assuming he's in his 40's. He is about 300lbs, likes gardening, and is incontrovertibly political. He could talk about politics............forever. I have sat in my chair dialing numbers for literally 45 minutes while he tells me his take on anything and everything remotely related to American politics that has taken place in the past 2 decades. He gets himself all worked up about it and needs hardly an encouragement from me to just keep talking for however long I will give him before someone answers their phone and I have to talk to them. He's like a car with really good gas mileage in this way. When I first started working here, Dave trained me. He had all these catch phrases that he would try and teach me, his favorite being: "fair enough?" We practiced that one for about a half hour because, apparently, there's a right way to say it and a wrong way to say it. (The inflections, I guess, make a difference.) When I would get on the phone with someone Dave would get really excited and wheel out of his cubicle to watch me and whisper helpful little things, like, "Go get 'em Heather. You're a good telemarketer. Fair enough? Say, fair enough?" Rather than encouraging me as I'm sure Dave was intending to do, it only got me more flustered. So someone would be telling me that they had Type 1 diabetes and I would respond stupidly with, "Fair enough?" Eventually Dave calmed down about that and now he just offers advice and direction when I specifically ask for it.

I sometimes feel like I am Dave's life coach. He is dating this 28-yr-old girl who has a baby, several drug addictions, and like 5 other boyfriends. He's broken up with her about a hundred times, but somehow he keeps getting back together with her and buying her new clothes, food, baby diapers, etc. He's convinced that she doesn't really like him, she's just using him for his money, but for some reason he answers the phone when she calls. She's very white trash, from the sound of it. One time when Dave broke up with her he did it by emailing her a poem called "Heart's Door." Every time he used the phrase "Heart's door" in it, he had gone through and made each letter a different color. He read it to me just before he clicked send, beaming the whole time. So my job, whenever Dave talks about this girl, is to tell him how bad for him she is. I remind him that they are broken up. I tell him to stop buying her things. I tell him not to answer his phone when she calls, wanting him to take her shopping. Dave's job, as it turns out, is to get back together with his girl whenever possible and then report to me how stupid he is being.

I am also Dave's diet counselor. The only thing he likes talking about as much as politics is his garden. He is very proud of his zucchinis, corn, peppers, and carrots. He's trying to eat healthily for his diet, and you would think that with such an enormous amount of pride in his garden this would be a piece of (metaphorical) cake. But somehow, the drive-through worker at the local McDonalds still recognizes Dave on sight....so that's how his diet is going. However, a few days ago, Dave informed me that he's stopped gorging and he only ate half a pizza and two hamburgers the night before. So no need to worry.

So that's Dave. Then there's Veronica. She is the secretary and, really, she's in charge of a lot that goes on around here. She has bright red hair, her own office, a jar labeled "Prozac" that she keeps filled with chocolates, and a deep-seated, unadulterated hatred for Dave. He kind of bumbles around, and his wide eyes and sloppy manner combined with his loud, irrelevant comments create a person that Veronica can barely bring herself to be civil to. Every word that she directs at Dave is biting and acidic. She picks on everything from his grammar, to his food, to his work ethic, to his social life. When Veronica talks to me on the other hand, she has always been very nice. When I started working here, she introduced herself and offered a standing invitation to her Prozac jar. Now our interaction is limited to when she gives me checks, I enter numbers into her computer for the Do Not Call list, or she's yelling at Dave and she looks to me for agreement. I think that Veronica has a sad life and she takes it out on Dave because she doesn't respect him. But she can be so nice when she likes you.

So even though Veronica is in charge of.....um everything, technically, Steve is the boss. He is the nicest boss you could ask for. He has never asked me anything about my erratic hours. He doesn't say much and I only see him when I come in on Thursdays, but he has alwas been pleasant and I think his even temper is good for the office.

The agents who actually go out and try to sell insurance will pop in occasionally and it is always nice to meet them, I think. When I meet a grouchy agent, I just don't make as many calls for them. When I meet a nice agent, I loveee making calls for them. It's very simple with me. Sharon is my favorite. She is this 50 or 60-something black woman who is an aMAZing sales rep. She could sell hymn books to an Atheist, I'm sure of it. She is super-knowledgable about the insurance and whenever she talks to me after going to an appointment I set up for her, she tells me what a great job I'm doing. So whenever I get to pick the agent I give an appointment to, I almost always pick Sharon.

Sue comes in every Thursday morning and she makes everything so much fun. When I first met her I thought she was mayyybe in her 30's at the oldest, but then she said that her favorite age was 29, and she has a teenage son. Her face just looks very young. She is super-tan, super-toned, and super-funny. She is the smoother-outer when Dave and Veronica get into a tussle. She will come and make a joke about Dave (usually about his weight) that makes both Veronica and Dave laugh and then they'll each go back to work. My first time meeting Sue was when Lizzie still worked here, and she was telling us how much she loved the feeling of being naked. It was an interesting first impression, to say the least.

Anyway I really should be getting back to work. If that's what you want to call this.

My Recipe for Happiness

I had the best. Day ever yesterday. Looking back on it, it was a pretty mediocre day. But I felt so insatiably happy for almost every single second of it. Therefore, I am now going to compose a list of all the things that happened yesterday that made me happy. I figure if I do this, I will be able to pinpoint all of the things that make me most happy and then it'll be a little like I've discovered my own personal recipe for happiness!

When I was a senior in high school, I did a year-long research project on Abraham Maslow's theory, which basically states that there are 5 different categories of needs, and if a person has all of their needs met in one category, they will move on to the next level and try to have those needs met. From the most basic needs on up, the categories are: physiological (having enough to eat and drink and enough time to sleep, etc.), safety (having stability in your life and routine), emotional (gaining the approval and acceptance of others), esteem (feeling good about yourself), and self-actualization (doing things just because you want to do them, not because you need to for any reason). I am going to put everything happy from yesterday in one of these categories just to see if all of my needs were met.

1. I got an email from Jake! Of courseee this made me happy. So, okay, I'm going to put this under two categories: safety and emotional. (Safety isn't really as drastic as it sounds. I just get an email every Wednesday so it's apart of my routine, so every week that I get an email, the security I feel in that routine is reinforced.) So okay, those needs were met.

2. Owen took a long nap. Which is always so nice. Poor Owen, he had a huge doctor's appointment earlier this week and they gave him an anesthesia to put him down for whatever tests they had to do. He came back all loopy and tired and he hasn't been hungry since then. I've tried feeding him throughout the day but he has only eaten a few puffs, a couple handfuls of cheerios, and about a jars worth of baby food from me from Monday afternoon to Wednesday evening. Aside from being sluggish on Monday, he has been happy and alert and hasn't seemed to wantt food, although he has started drinking juice and milk like a champ. Anyway this isn't a doctor's report, so back to his long nap. I think this belongs under physiological. Since Owen's naptime is my naptime :-) and I need my sleep. Like, holy cow. Sometimes my day revolves around naptime a little bit.

3. I got a letter from Jake!!! This never happens on Wednesday! He only writes me on P-day, so I get an email and then the letter usually arrives on either Friday or Saturday. Occasionally it'll be really late and arrive on Monday, but typically, I only hear from him two days a week. I guess this would go in the emotional category, but I just want to say it's a surprise. Surprises make me happy.

4. Winnie texted me and told me a really funny story. I don't think she thought it was as funny as I did. But I laughed when I read her txt. It didn't have anything to do with me, but I'm going to say that belongs in the esteem category. Just because when your only contact with people for several hours of the day is the two kids you babysit, it's nice to know that you still have friends, and it's easy to know that when they txt you random little tidbits that you thoroughly enjoy.

5. I had a, ehm, fantasticcc day at telemarketing. After nannying I went home, got dressed in nicer clothes, ate dinner, and drove down to telemarketing. I called lots of people and I set up two good appointments, and even though this sounds pretty boring, when I make appointments, I feel great. I get paid hourly and by appointment, and when I don't make any appointments, I feel incompetent and undeserving of the money I am paid just to be there. I guess I will say that this goes under the category of esteem, because I would get paid whether I made the appointments or not, but I feel better about myself because I did make them.

6. I shaved my legs. Today is Thursday and I do telemarketing all day on Thursdays, so I have to dress up. Otherwise it's just me and Dave in the office and I hate dressing up just for Dave. Especially since none of the customers can see me...I mean, I'm talking to them over the phone. But on Thursday, I see my boss, and the agents come in and out, and I have to look professional. I like to wear skirts on Thursdays, so I had to shave my legs. I like having a reason to dress up and look nice. This summer has been kind of frustrating in that way because I am nannying all day, and Malan and Owen don't care what I look like, so why should I care? Then I go to telemarketing, and I feel about this much need to impress Dave. So the only times I really try to make myself look nice are when I hang out with people my age, which is every Sunday and random days throughout the week. Anyway, my legs. I did a really good job this time. When I was done I watched Rush Hour with my sisters and TJ (a frequent visitor now) and I just kept touching my legs the whole time because they were so smooth haha :) This will probably go in the esteem category. No one else really cared. Just me.

7. I exercised. It was like midnight, and I found myself getting ready for bed. Deciding quickly that this was entirely too early, and noting that Kelly was still not ready herself, I started doing some little exercises in the living room. Just, you know, toe touches, and squats, and a few crunches, and some plies. I really like exercising. I feel sore today, which I love! I just feel like soreness validates what I did. Maybe this goes under physiological needs, since everyone needs to exercise, but it could also be esteem. I feel better about myself when I exercise.

8. I ate Belgian waffles with syrup and cool whip, standing on the table bench in my kitchen at midnight. I just wanted to. I was a little hungry, but my main motivation for doing that was because I just thought they would be good and I wanted to do it. The minutes I spent in that kitchen I will definitely classify as self-actualization.

Nicole and Julie joined me in the kitchen and we just chatted and pranced around, eating and laughing, just being sisters. True to form, Dad came in to put an end to all the nonsense going on in his house. He told Nicole and Julie that they had to go to bed because they slept in until 1:00 in the afternoon today and that was unacceptable and blablabla. Right when he said this, they both earnestly protested, "I was up at 9:30....." to which my poor father had no response. Which, I'm assuming, means it was true, but he just didn't want to say so. His point still stood! He wanted them in bed. I guess we were all feeling really silly after watching Rush Hour, and when Dad turned to Julie to reprimand her for her sleeping habits, Nicole suddenly shouted, "Huh-DAD!" and then started laughing uproariously. Apparently when she did this my dad jumped, startled, and then tried hastily to regain his composure. Unfortunately for him it was too late. There in the kitchen stood a ruffled and slightly disoriented father, surrounded by three daughters who all found him hilarious rather than intimidating as he might have hoped.

As I joined in the laughter, a piece of Belgian waffle caught just the right way in my throat and I kind of started choking. I still thought the whole situation was quite funny, but instead of laughing, I found myself coughing and stuggling to catch my breath again. I guess choking isn't that big a deal in my family because the most anyone did to help me was when my dad put down the watch he was holding in case I would need to have the Heimlich maneuver performed on me. Julie and Nicole were still cracking up laughing and this only made it more funny. Julie, who had sat down on the floor because she was laughing too hard, looked up at me and kindly demonstrated the universal sign for choking and suggested that I use it if I felt like I really was in an emergency situation. Nicole started blaming Dad for my current state, but she was still more helpful than him, in my opinion; all the time that I was choking, Dad watched my face with interest as it change colors and made comments like, "Whelp, she's choking." "Look at that, now that's what happens when you eat Belgian waffles at midnight on the kitchen table bench." "It's all funny until someone starts choking." "Julie, you should stand up off the floor." "She might have gotten a piece of Belgian waffle stuck in her throat." "Now you know you should listen to your daddy, see what happens when you don't?" etc.

My dad has terrible bedside manner. I guess I've known this all my life--when one of us was being born, he brazenly asked the doctor where an outlet was so he could plug in his laptop and finish up some work. When I went in for a surgery on my ear when I was 7 years old, he off-handedly asked the nurses where another bed was so he could get some sleep while I was having the procedure done. I remember another time, when we were on vacation in Florida, and I threw up suddenly after having drinken like 2 1/2 bottles of water. (Ohmy, thattt's another story.) While I sat miserably outside the car, trying to recover, my dad came over and started questioning me on what I thought it could be that triggered my sudden sickness. I don't recall him asking how I felt now, but whatever. He's still the best daddy.

So in conclusion, here are the things that make me happy:
1. Jake makes me happy. Even when he is 2,000 miles away, he still makes me happy.
2. Naps make me happy.
3. Surprises make me happy.
4. Also mail. Mail in general makes me happy.
5. Professional success makes me happy.
6. Friends make me happy.
7. Looking nice, or feeling like I do, makes me happy.
8. Belgian waffles make me happy.
9. My sisters make me happy.
10. Laughing until I choke makes me reallyy happy :-)

Booties and Dreams

Today I had nannying (like usual) and during naptime I had the funniesttt dream. In my dream, I was nannying for Malan and Owen, except I was in Jake's house. Either that or his whole family had moved into the house I was in. It was so stressful because I wasn't allowed to have naptime anymore and then Lilly (Jake's 7-yr-old sister) peed her pants (she is actually way too sophisticated to do that) and I wasn't sure if I was expected to do anything about it, especially because her mom was right there and she just wasn't doing anything about it. Then Malan peed her pants too, and she just kept peeing and peeing everywhere, on everything. And in my dream there was a pool in the kitchen, and I ended up sitting with my feet in the pool discussing with Jake's dad the pros and cons of us drowning ourselves in it. He was all depressed because Jake is on his mission now and I just didn't want to deal with the peeing anymore. Before we could decide if we should drown ourselves, there were two huge car accidents outside the house. They weren't related but they happened one right after the other. So I went to look at them and the General Manager for the DC Metro System was there, only in my dream, that was Brother McGhie. He saw Jake's dad and I coming outside and he told us that if we did drown ourselves, then he would marry Jake's mom. I guess Jake's dad still wasn't sure if he should go ahead and drown himself or not, because he started telling Brother McGhie all about Halli's favorite Henna tatoo that she ever got, and her favorite gas station, and stuff like that. As they were talking, I started crying because I couldn't bear the idea that Brother McGhie might be my father-in-law. Anyway, then I woke up. I thought it was a pretty hilarious dream, even though it ended with me in tears and Jake's dad contemplating suicide.

Also, today, I brought Bikini Body, my favorite workout video, and Malan and I worked out together. She started coming up with her own exercises towards the end but she did a pretty good job working on her belly and booty. Speaking of Malan's booty, the other day, I was sitting across from her at the table and we were coloring, just like normal, when she stood up, turned around, grabbed the back of her chair, and starting shaking her butt at me. I said, "Malan, whattt are you doingg?" She started giggling and just kept shaking her butt at me. I said, "Malan, why are you doing that?" She said, "Because I like you! That's what you do when you like people!" I hope she changes her mind when she gets older. Otherwise she will have some problems. Not problems with getting people to like her, necessarily, just the right people.

Anyway this week Patty (Malan and Owen's mom) is at Girl's Camp, so I have really weird times for nannying, which means I have more time to work at my telemarketing job. I have to go in tomorrow at 9. I didn't work at allllll last week because Winnie and Helen were in town, and I guess I really should actually go once in a while. I will probably have to blog about telemarketing because it is kinddd of like The Office on NBC, just on a smaller scale. There aren't as many employees. But seriously. Sometimes it is just so surreal working there.