Friday night was kind of a tough night for me, leaving me with puffy eyes on Saturday. Since I was hosting a dinner that afternoon, I wanted to get rid of those puffy eyes. I remembered reading in a magazine recently that the best way to relieve puffy eyes was to rest cool, wet tea bags on your eyelids for about half an hour. The caveat was that it had to be caffeinated tea, because it's the caffeine that reduces the puffiness.

I looked through my cupboard for caffeinated tea, and the only kind I had was chai spice green tea.

Let's think about this for a minute. Spice + eyelids.... hmmmmm...

Well, I didn't think about it. All I cared about was getting rid of the puffy eyes. About five minutes into this beauty treatment, it felt as if someone had placed stinging nettles on my eyelids. I was so desperate to get rid of the puffy eyes that I actually weighed the pro's and con's in my head. Should I put up with stinging eyelids and get rid of puffy eyes, or should I immediately remove the tea bags, splash my eyes with cold water and live with the puffy eyelids?

Common sense got a hold of me, and I opted for living with the puffy eyelids.

Truthfully, I probably would have lived with it longer, but I started wondering if whatever was causing all the stinging might also cause some bizarre looking rash on my eyelids.

So there you have it folks, in my world vanity trumps pain, and imaginary rashes trump swelling.

..you know, in case you were wondering.

I imagined several scenarios that I might read as cause of death on my father's certificate of death. Suicide wasn't one of them. My father died of a self-inflicted gunshot to the head.

My manager told me that I could leave work early today for the holiday weekend, and BJ had the day off. So after work we went to the grocery store to pick up items we'd need to host our dinner tomorrow. I asked BJ if he wouldn't mind if we stopped at the post office on our way home. Now I'm regretting that decision because he had to witness my reaction when I read those words on the certificate of death.

I shouldn't have opened the envelope until I was alone, but I'd waited so long for this. I ordered the death certificate when I found out about his death on February 23rd. I got a call from the office of vital statistics two weeks ago that they had mailed it to the wrong address, so they sent it again. I was at work at the time that they called and am very glad that I resisted the temptation to ask them what it said.

BJ just lost his dad on February 7th, and so I sit here feeling so guilty about my reaction. His dad was his best friend; I didn't know my father. Yet I burst into tears and I'm still struggling really hard to keep it in.

When I first looked at the certificate of death, all I saw was that the place of injury was a vehicle. For an instant I was relieved that he died in an auto accident. I've been afraid to read that he died of emphysema or liver failure; both being complications of a heriditary disorder that I have. Then I saw gunshot to the head. Decedent shot himself. It literally took my breath away and I felt as if someone had punched me in the throat.

Instantly my brain was flooded with the image of a very sad man; a man feeling so hopeless that he put a gun to his head and shot himself. My brain even took me down the road of the aftermath. I can't turn it off. I also can't turn off the guilt about not trying harder to find him. I'll never know what made him so sad.

My mind is so jumbled with emotions that I can't quite sort out. I'm feeling confused and very very sad. I'm sad that another human being, who happens to have given me half of my genes felt so hopeless that he decided to end his life.

I feel as if I was completely sideswiped by this. I honestly don't know anyone who could possibly understand how I feel right now. Who would be able to say that they've had this experience so they could explain why I'm so sad about a man I never knew? I'm in a very lonely place.

I've always heard that snakes don't have lips, but that was proved wrong yesterday because I got PLENTY of lip service from the snake I wrote about a couple of days ago.

Although I had planned to handle this myself, Iki from the After Hours Pub gave me lots of compelling reasons why I shouldn't (thanks for taking the time to write me that long email Iki!) I took her advice to heart and made an appointment with my manager for first thing yesterday morning. That meeting went well and I felt very supported. He cautioned me to be sure to take the high road on this and don't get into the "reply all" pissing match. I assured him that pissing matches weren't my style because I'm too old to play those games. I just want to do my job and make my customers happy. I refuse to get in pissing matches with some dork.

And a dork he is. The meeting was at 11 a.m. At 11:15, I sent him an email from my cell phone asking him if he planned to show up. He replied that he thought the meeting was at 11:30 "and where is it at again?" OK, there was no excuse for this, because I sent him a meeting request last week. An OUTLOOK meeting request with all of that information. He showed up at 11:20.

I created a one page talking points memo and gave him a copy. I wanted it documented what we talked about and no excuses for him forgetting. Here's a print screen of the memo. As you can see, there's lots of highlighting and red circles and red squares, which will be explained in a moment.


The memo starts out with explaining why the issues we're having are a problem, I mainly focused on customer dissatisfaction and customer distrust. The next section was examples of specific issues. I highlighted the offensive sentences and wrote WHY they were offensive in the text boxes bordered in red.

The last part of the memo was a list of my functions and a list of his functions.

I gave him the copy of the memo and explained that I wanted to have written talking points so I'd stay on track. I told him that I think he's a really fun and energetic person and I needed something to follow so I didn't get caught up in his energy. That's the honest truth. I left out the part where I just wanted documentation for future violations.

He was agreeing with everything I said, with a whole lot of energy and "yeah, I 'totally' should have done that" and lots of "kewl" and "SWEET!" thrown in. Side note: on close inspection (we were sitting close to a window), I'd say this guy is over 45... so those words need to be obliterated from his vocabulary.

I suspected that I was getting lip service because it was all too easy. He was WAY too agreeable. I knew I was getting lip service when we were done with the meeting and he asked me to show him what I'd done with the last web request he sent me. I didn't create it the way he ordered it; not because I was being stubborn, it was because he didn't know what he was doing AND the web folks refused to do it his way. He got hot under the collar and kept saying, "that's NOT how I wanted it". I started getting hot under the collar myself and kept reminding him that it doesn't matter what HE wanted. It only matters what the client wants and that I met with the client before I turned in the specs.

He then made such a fit about it and how the executives were expecting it his way that I said I would try to compromise, but reminded him that this is EXACTLY WHY HE NEEDS TO KEEP HIS HANDS OUT OF MY BUSINESS. (all in caps because, although it doesn't happen very often, I was steaming mad and wasn't even trying to hide it.) He told me that if it goes over deadline than that's fine. I mentioned that my name is attached to that deadline and I refuse to tarnish my perfect reputation (I seriously have never missed a deadline and I have several nights of working until 2 or 3 in the morning to prove it.) He tried to tell me that he'd make that part OK.

Sorry buddy, but I don't trust you.

By the end of the conversation, I couldn't even swallow. You know how you can get so angry and you need to swallow but you know if you do it'll look like this huge gulp of fear? I refused to let him even think I was afraid. So, instead I almost drowned on my own spit. Heh.

Later my manager asked how it went. I told him that I was too angry to talk about it and I was going to see where things go after this. He seemed to want to get involved, but respected my need to try to handle it. I really am going to see where this goes. I'm going to wipe the slate clean after this last web job is finished and hope that he's learned a lesson.

He's crossed that line that few people cross with me, so the next infraction will not be pleasant for him.

BJ and I are going to the symphony tonight after work. We got box seats to my most favorite concerto EVER; Beethoven's Emperor. Sigh.... Beethoven's music is just so...so..passionate, so much that I told BJ I was glad we got box seats because they'll provide a little privacy so we can make out during the concert. Oh yeah baby, THAT's class!

Sure, other composers will be represented (Mozart, Smetana and Janácek) but I'll be in a foggy, post Beethoven haze if Emperor is first. I'll admit it- Beethoven is like a drug to me.

Prior to the concert, we'll be going to a restaurant that brings back funny memories for BJ. Memories he'll tell anyone that'll listen. We'd been dating about three months and BJ had asked me to plan a date. I planned an evening at the symphony and dinner at the restaurant we're going to tomorrow and let him know the plan. When we showed up, the Maitre d' asked us if we had reservations. BJ nodded in my direction to signal to the Maitre d' that I'd handled it. Instead of confirmation, BJ got the deer in headlights look. Ummmm, that'd be no. I did not make reservations.

This is an upscale restaurant and there wasn't a seat available for at least an hour. Since we had concert tickets we couldn't wait and ended up eating in the bar. He loves to tease me about this every chance he gets. My excuse? He's the guy. He should have made the reservations, right? That's my story anyway.

I'm just not sure how I'm going to work out what I'm going to wear. I'm going to have to go directly from work, so I either will be WAY too dressy for work, or under dressed for the concert. I'll probably opt for the former and let people wonder why I feel it necessary to have cleavage at work.

Heh. Heh...

Tomorrow is your 22nd birthday. That is so hard for me to comprehend because the time has passed much too quickly. Sometimes I miss that little boy that used to love to cuddle with me and promised to buy me pretty sparkly diamonds.

I remember feeling so guilty when I was pregnant with you. I thought I'd never love another baby as much as I loved your brother and I didn't think it was fair to bring you into the world under those circumstances. But then you were placed in my arms and I knew that it was indeed possible. I loved you so much that I thought my heart would burst. I'm sorry that I didn't protect you from those mean nurses that insisted on naming you Yoda, but really, look at your baby pictures sometime. The resemblance is uncanny. I thought those eyes of yours would swallow your face.

I remember being awestruck at how you kept looking around at your surroundings only minutes after birth. It was as if you were starved for visuals and you were just taking it all in. I don't remember ever seeing a baby look around as much as you did.

The pediatrician had a good laugh with me about your first visit with him. The first baby they gave him was a girl, and he knew that wasn't right. Then they handed him this little peanut of a baby. He tried to give you back too, because he thought you'd be a Howard Huge like your brother.

You were always quite a little ladies man. Your next pediatrician was a woman and she used to laugh at how you'd flirt with her before you were even one year old. You'd give her this really coy little look and rub your toe on her leg. When you entered school, it was nirvana for you. You always had at least two girlfriends at a time. Your fifth birthday party consisted of four girls and one boy. I like those odds for you, kiddo.

I hardly ever put you down when you were a baby because you were such a cuddler. You just loved to lay in my arms and play with my hair and stare into my eyes. It was magical and I always wondered what you were thinking. You were probably plotting your next meal....

I remember always sitting with you for a while before you'd go to sleep when you were little. Sometimes it was to read a story, sometimes it was to just listen to you talk. Sometimes the things that came out of your mouth had me on the floor laughing. One time I looked at you and had my hand on your cheek and said, "I love you my sweet little boy". You put your hand on my cheek and said, "I love you my sweet BIG mommy". There was another time when you were about four and you looked like you were gazing into my eyes. I asked you what you were thinking and you said, "You have a zit on your nose". Yeah, a real charmer, you were.

You always seemed older than your years and I was constantly amazed at your lack of fear. I don't think you were even eight years old when you had purchased something with your allowance that was defective. You asked me to drive you right back to the store so you could return it. You didn't want or need my help, just a ride. I was in awe of you when you did that.

We've lived without a man in the house from the time you were six until you moved out. As you got older, you turned into quite a handyman and I appreciated it because we were living paycheck to paycheck. I don't know where you learned to do the things you did, but it made me feel safe having you around. When you were 15 and the gas water heater went out, I didn't have enough money to hire someone to install it. You said that you could do it, and I knew that you could. And you did. Now that I think about it, having my 15 year old son replace a gas water heater on Halloween gives a new definition to fright night.

I remember the years that I was not allowed to call you anything except your name. If I accidently called you honey, sweet boy, or anything except for your name in public I'd get the dirtiest scowl and a tongue lashing when we got to the car. Now you put up with it all and you even say "I love you" to me in front of people. You really are my sweet boy.

I am so proud of you, and I always have been. We had a few months of rocky roads in your early teens that lead you to living with your dad, but it became a great discovery for both of us at how much we loved each other. I hated not having your presence in our home. I was so happy when you wanted to come back.

After high school when you decided to leave the nest and spread your wings, it nearly broke my heart. I adored spending time with you every night after you'd come home from work. But I also realized and appreciated how important your independence is to you.

So, here I am the night before your birthday wishing just a little that you were that sweet baby again just for a little while. I miss smelling your sweet baby hair (when you finally grew some) and I miss watching you sleep. At the same time, I am so proud at what a wonderful man you've become. Everyone that knows you thinks the world of you. You are trustworthy, you have a kind heart and you are fiercely protective of those that you love. I can't possibly imagine being more proud of you than I am.

I'm so lucky that I was given the gift of you.

I love you, son.