Thursday, March 16, 2006
I'm not dead . . .
. . . although sometimes it feels that way. I get up at five, go to work at seven, leave at five (last night it was 6:40) go home, eat dinner and pretty much become semi-comatose before walking upstairs sometime around nine for bed. Receiving at a nursery and landscape operation just before spring starts is kicking my ass. But, I have to tell you, the overtime is making me very happy. Almost everything inside and outside has been re-SKU'ed, which also makes me happy. Last week Paula and I did the pottery outside. Some of it is huge. It reminds of those chase scenes in the movies that take place in Arabian market places, the ones where someone inevitably hides in a giant clay pot. Or is that a basket? Anyway, we put a sticker on it and write the SKU and the price on the inside with permanent marker. Picture me bent over the rim of a huge terra cotta pot with my ass in the air and my head down somewhere near the bottom, the inside of the pot filling with permanent marker fumes and me unable to remember a string of numbers longer than three digits. At that point I couldn't tell if my memory lapses were because it was three o'clock and I'd been tagging stuff outside since nine or if I was actually killing brain cells.
The other day we went to The Edgewater for dinner, where I inhaled my shrimp oreganata. I ate the whole thing, which included a heaping pile of rissotto (I don't care if I spelled that wrong, I'm too lazy to check it). And I had a very nice cosmopolitan which Shawn refused to pay for since he has moral issues with purchasing and serving alcohol. He did, however, buy my dinner as a thank you for cleaning the bathroom every week since we moved in (except last week - I was just too frickin' tired to put any effort into anything around the house) which I thought was really sweet.
My dad's actually doing better. He had some tests done and some weird thing done with novacaine and a very big needle, and for the first time in a long time, his back pain is actually improving. I really should call him tonight after nine (free minutes with T Mobile - him, not me) and catch up.
The other day we went to The Edgewater for dinner, where I inhaled my shrimp oreganata. I ate the whole thing, which included a heaping pile of rissotto (I don't care if I spelled that wrong, I'm too lazy to check it). And I had a very nice cosmopolitan which Shawn refused to pay for since he has moral issues with purchasing and serving alcohol. He did, however, buy my dinner as a thank you for cleaning the bathroom every week since we moved in (except last week - I was just too frickin' tired to put any effort into anything around the house) which I thought was really sweet.
My dad's actually doing better. He had some tests done and some weird thing done with novacaine and a very big needle, and for the first time in a long time, his back pain is actually improving. I really should call him tonight after nine (free minutes with T Mobile - him, not me) and catch up.
Labels: I Like Food, Workin' for a livin'
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
Whoa. As I've said before, I'm a bad blogger. At this rate I'll never make it to one thousand posts. But I do have a good excuse. But first, I have to tell you, I just had the best grilled cheese sandwich of my life. It was with provolone on 12 grain bread and I put in some spinach that I sauteed with just a dash of garlic powder. If I had some plum tomatoes I might have been able to achieve orgasm.
So. Work. They revamped the SKUing system, which, while a lot more organized than it used to be, meant that every single item in the store had to be retagged. Guess who they picked to do it? Yeah. And since I'm in the basement or out in the shop all day, I haven't been able to use the computer at work and I've been too tired to much at home except eat dinner and plant my ass on the couch. So that started last week. The day after I caught the cold that's been going around work. It's still in my sinuses. Very snotty. I worry all day about bats in the cave.
Let me tell you about the process. My wonderful coworker Paula (and I really mean that) and I pick a section of the store or a section of the inventory shelves in the basement and go about writing the SKU number of each product and the amount of each product. Then we go to the giant, many pages long list of old SKUs that have the new SKU written next to them. Sometimes there is no new SKU and we have to go ask someone for help. Then I print out the tags. Finally, we put the new tags on the products. When we're not SKUing shit we're moving shit up and down from the basement. I have been doing this for the past week with only one day off. When I shut my eyes at night I see rows and rows of SKU tags. The other night I half-woke up around 1am and started assigning numbers and retail prices to noises. Last night I kept visualizing a pile of wicker baskets and I couldn't stop. I can't tell you how relieved I am that we finished today.
Has anyone ever heard of the band My Morning Jacket? I read a review of their new album, Z, in an issue of Rolling Stone last summer and thought they sounded interesting. I've been on the lookout for new music lately since my cd collection is sorely lacking in variety (I have Radiohead. And Radiohead. And Tori Amos. Oh, look, more Radiohead). So when I could buy it discounted as part of a 3 cds for $25 deal, I gave it a shot. I've limited myself to one listen per week since otherwise I'd probably wear a hole in it. From what I understand they have southern rock jam band roots, but the new album is a weird mix of Radiohead, The Allman Brothers, and the Flaming lips. A little country, a little electronica. I love it. And the lead singer has a great falsetto, which I'm rather partial to, as my Radiohead, Coldplay, Jude, and Neil Young cds will tell you. Now I have to get their first three albums. I love having a new musical obsession.
So. Work. They revamped the SKUing system, which, while a lot more organized than it used to be, meant that every single item in the store had to be retagged. Guess who they picked to do it? Yeah. And since I'm in the basement or out in the shop all day, I haven't been able to use the computer at work and I've been too tired to much at home except eat dinner and plant my ass on the couch. So that started last week. The day after I caught the cold that's been going around work. It's still in my sinuses. Very snotty. I worry all day about bats in the cave.
Let me tell you about the process. My wonderful coworker Paula (and I really mean that) and I pick a section of the store or a section of the inventory shelves in the basement and go about writing the SKU number of each product and the amount of each product. Then we go to the giant, many pages long list of old SKUs that have the new SKU written next to them. Sometimes there is no new SKU and we have to go ask someone for help. Then I print out the tags. Finally, we put the new tags on the products. When we're not SKUing shit we're moving shit up and down from the basement. I have been doing this for the past week with only one day off. When I shut my eyes at night I see rows and rows of SKU tags. The other night I half-woke up around 1am and started assigning numbers and retail prices to noises. Last night I kept visualizing a pile of wicker baskets and I couldn't stop. I can't tell you how relieved I am that we finished today.
Has anyone ever heard of the band My Morning Jacket? I read a review of their new album, Z, in an issue of Rolling Stone last summer and thought they sounded interesting. I've been on the lookout for new music lately since my cd collection is sorely lacking in variety (I have Radiohead. And Radiohead. And Tori Amos. Oh, look, more Radiohead). So when I could buy it discounted as part of a 3 cds for $25 deal, I gave it a shot. I've limited myself to one listen per week since otherwise I'd probably wear a hole in it. From what I understand they have southern rock jam band roots, but the new album is a weird mix of Radiohead, The Allman Brothers, and the Flaming lips. A little country, a little electronica. I love it. And the lead singer has a great falsetto, which I'm rather partial to, as my Radiohead, Coldplay, Jude, and Neil Young cds will tell you. Now I have to get their first three albums. I love having a new musical obsession.
Labels: Workin' for a livin'
