Weekend Work

It's Sunday afternoon, a little before 3 pm, and I sit at my desk, contemplating the same question I address almost every weekend: To work, or not to work?

On one hand, there's no reason not to. I only need a couple of hours to get on top of a project and it's not like I'm sitting around splitting the atom. Blair and I went for a run this morning, then cleaned house, read the paper, I took a 30 minute nap, and then plopped down on the couch to catch the last twenty minutes of Shakespeare in Love.  Blair is working upstairs and there's nothing preventing me from doing a bit of work and so starting the work week a step ahead.

On the other hand, I don't feel like working. And am not sure I should. It's the weekend. If I have spare time I should read or take a walk or comb the cats or, if I so choose, watch marathon back-to-back episodes of Neat Freak on Fit TV.  Even though putting in a couple of hours of work today would put me ahead for tomorrow, so what? Tomorrow isn't so cramped that--with a bit of focus and planning--I still can't fit everything in. Life-balance, right?  Monday-Fridays are for work and weekends are for relaxing, not racing to stay ahead.

Or is it all poppycock?

Okay, I'm a bit lazy. And the ironic part is that I know--absolutely know--that during the week I'll set something aside thinking, "I'll work on that this weekend when I have some uninterrupted time."

Which brings me back to my opening question: To work, or not to work?

I can't decide. What do you all think?

Under Arm Waxing -- OW!

So yesterday was my summer shearing, aka, the annual spring underarm waxing. I am now silky smooth under both arms but, as with anything in life worth having, there's always a price to pay.

In case you've never experienced the nirvana that is an underarm waxing, here's a little insider glimpse based on yesterday's visit.

The first thing you need to know is that you can't just show up for a waxing. The hair has to grow out first, which is usually a 10-day process. The hair must be long enough so the waxing paper will adhere to it and yank it out from the root. So I've been walking around in long-sleeved shirts and arms clamped to my sides for the past two weeks. I can't stand the growing out process. Grosses me out. But such is the price for beauty...

I enter the salon and recline face up on a table. Shirt off, jog bra on, at the technicians request I raise my right arm above my head and bend it at a 90 degree angle so I'm laying on my palm. Then I take my left hand and hold taut the skin under the arm as the technician takes a tongue depressor, dips it into hot lava wax (or what feels like lava wax, anyway), then spreads the wax on my skin, coating all hair.  Then she takes what feels like a cardboard-y paper towel and pats it into the wax, really smooshing it in so it sticks. Then with nothing more than a cheerful, "Ready?" she grabs the end of the wax paper and rips the paper away, taking half my skin with her.

Well, not really. But it feels like it. It's actually a burning sensation, like someone is holding lit matches under your arm. The pain fades quickly, within seconds, but while it's there, it's intense.  It's a little glimpse into how I might handle torture. (Note: Tell me nothing. I'll crack instantly.)

You might think you're done, but no. That just covered a section of hair. She applies wax and rips 1-2 more times before moving to the next side. Then tweezers are used to remove any stubborn hairs that withstood the molten lava treatment. A dash of lotion on each pit and I'm out the door and on my way.

The sad part is, I want more of this treatment. I've had a bikini wax but I think I passed out from the pain, so I don't recall much. If I had money to burn, I'd do electrolysis. You know, the treatment where they electrocute the hair on your body ? Yeah, I want that. I'll mock those who get Botox, but bring on high voltage shocks that fry follicles dead on the spot. That's good stuff.

All of this so I don't have to spend 45 seconds each morning shaving under my arms. But I may also be shaping human evolution. Enough of us females (and heck, males) keep removing hair from our body, sooner or later Mother Nature will cue in and just stop giving it to us.

Social evolutionizer (and vain hair freak)--that's me.

Speech Contest Judge

Today I visited Summerfield Elementary School where I was one of five judges for an AL (Advanced Learner) speech contest. Thirteen 4th and 5th graders gave 2-3 minute persuasive speeches on a topic of their choice. The subjects ranged from advocating for less homework and more vending machines to arguing in favor of a flat tax and that professional athlete salaries should be capped at two million dollars. One spoke on the wetlands, one on what she saw as the excessive media exposure of the VA-Tech murders, and one girl on why PG-13 movies are related to real-life teenage violence.

I was blown away. All of the kids used quotes and statistics. Several of them spoke practically notes free. And all of them were audible with decent eye contact. If I had one across the board suggestion to make, it would be for the kids to smile, but I'm sure they were nervous and when that happens the smile is usually the first thing to go.

What I found most intriguing was that--whether they were the "best" speaker or not--it was easy to tell which kids had a real passion for their subject and which kids were just saying the words. The girl who spoke out against excessive media coverage for the VA Tech shootings was adamant that all the exposure must have really hurt the families involved and served no purpose.  The child who wanted healthy vending machines in the school made several excellent points about national obesity and kicked off with a humorous example about how she forgot her snack last Tuesday and so went hungry until 1 pm. (Her teacher pointed out the principal was in the audience, so the girl's speech was timely!)

Even though it meant getting up early and putting on "real" person's clothes and driving 25 minutes, I wouldn't have missed it. I was thoroughly entertained by each and every speech and I rated 3 of the kids a perfect score. A great way to start my day.

Bring Me All The Work

Some days you're hot.  This is one of those days. I've been at my desk for less than three hours and have 4 new assignments filling my in-box: two articles for a regional magazine, 5 story updates on my county for the Greensboro paper, one retirement speech, and one web site revision. 

Am I sending out a "work-for-hire" vibe? Perhaps the Universe read my sludge-car blog and realized I needed the money. =) 

Whatever the case, keep it coming. All of these are projects that are actually fun and interesting. AND I'm still holding to my 1,000/words per day creative writing. Plus, still waiting to hear on several cat book projects from agents and publishers... I love the randomness of my working life. I never know one day to the next what I'll be working on and while sometimes it sets my teeth on end, nine times out of ten I love it.

But I have no time to write about this. It's taken me five minutes to write this blog so who KNOWS what new assignments have appeared since then.

Cheers.