Today.  Was a day.  Beginning with W.  Yeah.  Wednesday.  But it felt like Woe-day.  Or Whoa-day.  Maybe even a Wow-Watt-tee-eff-day.

I don’t know.  I thought I was beyond this.  Beyond having rotten days.  Not that I never expected to have any more rotten days, it’s just that after the last few years, I was hoping to have a little easier go at it.

And maybe my expectations were getting overblown.  After all, the last few days were so spectacular and exciting, I just kind of thought that maybe I was on a roll.  But my rock didn’t roll.  It pretty much just sat there.  What I’m saying is that today was pretty much a bummer.  Wait.  Yesterday was partially a bummer, too.

But neither day was totally a bummer.  Just.  Certain.  Things.  Happened.  That.  I wish.  I handled better.

Whenever I get this way, what I really need a good night’s sleep.  And I’m thinking right now what I need is a nice chunk of chocolate.  I’m not really a chocolate person, but sometimes, nothing but chocolate can solve a day of woe-whoa-watt-tee-eff.

So what I’m going to do instead of that.  Is what any rational person would do.  I’m going to listen to my daughter play trombone.  And be happy she has lungs that work.  While I do that, I will be sitting next to my dog who is sleeping and passing gas.  And I will be thankful that I have a nose that smells, and that she was able to eat some rotten crap off the floor so I wouldn’t have to clean it.

And I’m going to laugh at the fact that somebody took their rotten day out on me, because I have been knocked senseless by the rotten gaseous emissions of my dog who is dreaming of eating some rotten crap off the floor so that I don’t have to clean it.

There.  Problem solved.  I feel so much better now.  Off to my fun box!  C’ya!

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So was working and working and working.  And working and working and working on the Spring Your Way out of the Box workshop, so did not have time to blog the last two days.

And finally, Spring Your Way out of the Box sprung yesterday.  And here are a few of pics from the event:

Passing the energy ball around the room...

Improv of Great Ideas: Waterskiing with the Sharks

It was the first official class that wasn’t a test run.  And I was wondering why it was so hot…  I turned on the heat instead of the A/C….  Whew!

So I got so amped up last night, I couldn’t sleep.  And now I am falling asleep on my words here.   zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…

Good night!

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Today was one of those busy, busy days that even though I was doing a million things, in non-stop frenetic action, I actually got close to getting everything done.

Wow.

I feel like Lady Productivity!  The royalty of getting-doneness.

This is taking a little getting used to.  It’s a little eerie.  But kind of cool, too.

See, usually I start something, get part of the way into it.  Then I start something else and do part of that.  Then I do more and more starting up of things.

Yeah.  I am all about the beginning.  The new.  The upstart.   The establishing, the commencing… more things in various stages of new are hanging all over my to-do list.

It’s the actual completion of tasks that doesn’t often happen with me.  The “getting-done with stuff” is something I plan to get done later.  Sometimes later doesn’t get here.  And I always wish there was someone there behind me who would pick up what I started and finish it for me.

But nobody has ever backed me up with a sweeper broom

So about two months ago.  Something strange and wonderful clicked in me.  I made a decision to finish what I started.  And I hired an imaginary whip-cracker, who cracks the whip at me whenever I try to deviate.

I don’t know who stepped in and took over.  I don’t know who the whip cracker is.  What I do know is that there’s a new boss in town, and this new boss is making sure I finish what I start.

And you know what?  I kind of like it.  Because as soon as I finish one thing, something else is ready to go.  And that something gets done, too!

Speaking about something that needs to get done… It’s that time of year again!  Everyone’s favorite day of the year is right around the corner.  My birthday, aka Income Tax Day!

Are you putting off doing your taxes?  Try this fun your way out of the box tip Get done with your taxes before April 15th, so you can enjoy my birthday and not stress about the aka day.

Yup.  You can do it.  Make the grueling expedition into a holiday.  Turn your tax prep into a game like Super Mario Bros.  Leap, run, roll and crash your way through your paperwork and receipts.  Give yourself an extra life for each deduction you find.  Consider each section on the 1040 to be a challenge level on which you can earn double points.  Flash a kaleidoscope of neon colors at yourself and play cartoon music to drive yourself batty.

If you really want to have fun, have the kids join in.  Make it a party.  I’m sure that’s what the IRS wants from all of us.   And if you don’t get stuff done, at least you had fun.  Children are a deductible expense.  Enjoy your write-offs today.  You’ll be glad you did.

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Today.  I should have been working.

But.

Today I played hooky.  I ditched.  I hid from authority.

Today.  I hung out in Laguna.

And the waves were beautiful.  A greenish, blue.  The sky was clear.  You could see all the way to Catalina and up to San Pedro.  Wow.  What a view.

So.  About the “I should have been working thing…”  Yeah.  So.  I can do that tomorrow.  Every once in a while.  Get out of the work box and go somewhere beautiful while everyone else is in their cubicles.  Ahhhh.

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So now I am officially in the office Box.  I passed inspection by the city building planner guy who was more interested in the laundry room, kitchen and hallways than the actual office that I was sharing.

Apparently, the office suite was changed into many executive suites over a year ago.  And each time someone new ventures into the space, a City Guy comes out and walks around the laundry room and kitchen all confused, because Suite 306 should really be Suite 312.  Never mind that Suite 306 née 312 is on the opposite side of the building.  The laundry room has an irresistible pull, luring City Guys to it like sirens lured passing sailors in Ancient Greece.  But instead being seduced by Mediterranean beauties, these HB City Guys are attracted to grease.

Each City Guy that comes out makes notes.  And each City Guy’s notes go into the HB city’s building code, which must either mysteriously disappear into the Bermuda Shorts Triangle, or into the Super-Secret Beachfront Area 51.  This must be so the next City Guy can come out to inspect the laundry room and kitchen instead of the not-so-newly re-numbered suites.

It is interesting to know that so many people get paid to have non-jobs.  I wander around the laundry room and kitchen all the time, and nobody pays me a dime.  Maybe I need to be more creative in my wanderings.  Maybe I need to pretend that the Sock Monster is really an invader from Alien Worlds.  Maybe my socks are disappearing into the HB Area 51, or are being used in crop circles.

Adding a little mystery to normal household routines will add a little spice into anyone’s life.  Toss out the normal spicy spices you use, and toss in spacey spice.  Not only will your food taste out of this world, it will also be bigger, so you can feed the entire neighborhood.  In this economic climate, isn’t it nice to have a new way to stretch the dollar?

Don’t thank me.  I got this Fun out of the World Box tip from my good friends, the HB City Guys.

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Getting into Character

I wish I could get into character like Macy.  She is such an amazing talent.  Just throw a costume on her, offer a cookie and she is down with the scene!  Hot Dog.

And here she is on the set in her famous portrayal of Woofy Allen, the off-beat and ingenious dog-rector of:  “Vicky Cristina Bark-elona”, “Small Time Woofs”, “Deconstructing Hairy”, “Everyone Says I Lick You”, “Mighty Afghan-doggity”, and “Bone-anas”.

“Two squeaky toys up!”  Sisksmell and Ebarkt

Bark your way out of the box!

Photo credits to Zill!  Thanks Zill!

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Round two with the City.

Appointment time 12-5.  What a time window.  Even oven repair guys can do better than that.  Five hours hanging out and waiting.  In a small office.  Okay.  So I only waited four and a half, but by 4:30 I was getting antsy.

Guess what those city guys said?

City Guy 1:  Oh.  Yeah.  The inspector guy.  He was out there at 1:28 and denied your permit.

Me:  What?

I was there the whole stinking day.  So I got this guys number and called him.

City Guy 2:  Yeah.  I was there.

Me:  Yeah?  So was I.   I was there all day waiting for you.

CG2:  Oh.  Well.  I saw it was an executive suite and um…

Me:  Yeah.  Um… my suite number was on the application.  Did you think of coming down to my office?

CG2:  Oh.  Well.  I checked out the lobby.  And the bathroom.  And the kitchen.

Me:  (In my head)  Yeah.  And.  Did you expect someone to be there to make you a sandwich?

Me:  (Out loud)  Did you think maybe of coming to my suite.  You know the one listed on the application?

CG2:  Oh, well.  I peeked my head down the hallway.  I didn’t want to disturb anyone.

Me:  (In my head)  You are disturbing.  Very disturbing.

Me:  (Out loud)  Well.  It was an inspection, and you do have a right to inspect my office.  The one listed on the application.  It specifically says the suite number.

CG2:  Um.  I looked at the elevator and the kitchen.   And um… I saw a guy.  I saw the same guy twice.

Me:  I’m not that guy.  I look like me.  More female looking, ya know.

CG2:  Well, um… I will be back tomorrow… and um…

Me:  Then you must be there precisely at 9:30.  Tomorrow is not my office day, and you can not disturb my associate’s clients’ sessions.  You really should have been there today you know.

Bet he was out playing mini golf instead.  Or riding the elevators.

Dealing with bureaucracy.  No way out of that box.  So I guess I have to bring the fun into the box with me.  Round three tomorrow.  See ya CG2!

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Okay.  Zill brought it up out of the blue today.  My horrible childhood nightmare of “The Cheese Stands Alone”.

Even when I was a kid, other kids knew I was outside of the box, and for some reason, I was always designated as the cheese when we played Farmer in the Dell.  When the game was over, there I was in the center of the circle all by myself.  Others might bask in the glory of being in the center of the circle.  Ah.  15 minutes of stardom.  I did not want that, though.

I wanted to be the mouse.

Most people wouldn’t want to be the mouse, but to me, the mouse was all powerful and desirable.  Who didn’t want to be Mighty Mouse?  “Here he comes to save the day!”  Mighty Mouse was my hero.  He and Courageous Cat and Minute Mouse.

But my dream never came true.  I was destined to be the cheese.

Left alone in the circle, when the farmer, wife, kid, maid, cow, dog, cat, and mouse left.  There I was.  The Stinky Cheese, man.

Run, run run as fast as you can.  You can’t catch me.  I’m the Stinky Cheese Man!

Unlike the Stinky Cheese Man, I did not sink to the bottom of the lake and disintegrate.  Though at moments I did feel like I exploded and fell apart.   I did not disintegrate.  I did not drown.  This was an amazing thing.  Exploding and falling apart, that is.

The wonderful thing about the exploding is the clean break.  And when you fall apart you get to piece yourself back together exactly the way you want to be assembled.  It’s like a new life.  All the duct tape and baling wire that was previously holding you together is now gone.  No stickiness.  No unnecessary parts.  Just working pieces and smooth connections.  Self reinvention is it.

I’ve come to grips with being the Cheese.  And with the advent of refrigeration, I don’t have to be the stinky type.

So when life makes you be the cheese in the center of the circle, just have a box of crackers with you, so you can eat your way out of the box.

cheese stands alone · Farmer in the Dell · self-reinvention · stinky cheese man

So Saturday is rolling quickly to a close, and here I am typing on a laptop that has about as much battery life to it as this day has, maybe even less.

I guess I shouldn’t have waited to the last minute, but after running around with Zill and her friend all day, I somehow didn’t get to the stuff I wanted to do.  So here I am at an uncharged computer, with nothing to say.  My words are running as dry as a creek in a drought.  And… and… what?

I don’t know.  Maybe I will just put myself into the box for the night and try again tomorrow.  The first day of spring.  The holiday of Norooz.  The first day of Aries.  Life begins on the Vernal Equinox.  Oh wait.  That was today.  No wonder I was springing all over the place.  Okay.  I’m headed to bed.  Good night and happy springtime!

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So today.  I was applying for a business license for my hypnosis practice.  The City Hall was empty and I was thrilled to be the only one there.  Then the city clerk gave me a printout declaring that I was a fortune teller.

And the line behind me grew.

Now I don’t know what hypnosis has to do with soothsaying, and I am not saying much, because psychic service selling is not my gig.

Yeah.  I got a little huffy, which isn’t my nature.  I told the clerk that I was going to call someone to find out my real classification.  She told me that she didn’t care what my associate claimed as our classification, because she was the city clerk and she had Da Powah!

Undaunted, I called Kathi, a fellow on the IHF board, asking her if I was a fortune teller.  She got so upset, that everyone on the first floor could hear her ranting through my cell phone, though she wasn’t on speaker phone.

She threatened a law suit.

I told the clerk.  “See.  I’m not a fortune teller.”

The clerk said, “I heard what she said!” and immediately found my correct classification, then sent me to the cashier.  The line at this point had grown even longer.

Then the cashier had an issue with what my invoice said and what was in the computer.  She blamed it on a slow computer then went all hush-hush over to old-bag clerk #1.  The two of them whispered a little, looking askance at me, perhaps expecting me to toss chicken bones and voodoo hexes on them.

Now the line from the clerk #1 was behind me watching the whole drama in line #2.  Wow.  I feel like a celebrity with that kind of following.

Anyway, clerk #2 finally returned giving me the reduced rate of legitimate business.  Woo hoo!

So she sent me up to the planning department.

These guys were totally cool, and thought nothing was weird about my business.  When I asked them what the problem was with the Finance Bee-yah-cheeze, they had no clue.  But when I told them that the Finance clerks tried to classify me as a fortune teller, one dude thrust his giant paw at me for a reading.

“Ah!  You have very large hands and long fingers.  You most certainly are a piano player!”  He was stunned with my accuracy.  I guess I missed my calling.  Right then and there, I should have gone back downstairs to get the fortuneteller’s license.

So yay.  I got my license, though I was terribly embarrassed at what I went through to get it.

Kathi, ever present in this ordeal, said I should go to the city attorney.

I marched back into that building, armed with old-bag clerk’s name, Madame XXX, and took the elevator to the 4th floor.

Kathi had filed a case the last time a hypnotherapist was harassed.  But the City attorney’s office could not find any records.  I lucked out when the deputy attorney showed up.  He had been hypnotized to quit smoking and he thought hypnosis was cool.

Plus, unlike the other embarrassed hypnotists, I had someone’s actual name.  You guys can run, but you can’t hide!  I am Vick the Slique, all powerful business card collector.

Yay!  I have an ally.

He promised to have a talking to the licensing department, so they don’t harass and embarrass other hypnotherapists in the future.

Wake up Finance Clerks of the World!  Alternative healing practices are out of the box and here to stay.

city hall clerks · embarrass · fortune telling · hypnosis