There is a big corporate express box on my desk.
it's sitting there, staring at me wide open, looking at me like, hey. are you going to pack me full of your desk stuff or not?
I'm going to my good-bye happy hour in 51 minutes.
Monday, we're heading to Bacio for my farewell lunch.
I have to start taking things home or I'll never make it out of here Tuesday afternoon.
I cleaned out my personal drive and sent about a million things home to file this morning.
I'm starting a new job. And it feels so completely surreal, I just don't even feel like I'm in my own body right now.
18.11.05
17.11.05
radio karma saved the morning commute
This morning was the first "ohmigod its so freeking cold why the hell do I live in this godforsaken state" morning of the season. Generally, this makes me a little edgy.
Added to the bitter, shocking cold of the morning:
1) I haven't had the time or forethought to brew coffee. Which means I venture out into the arctic wasteland this morning completely un-caffeinated. frown.
2) My little person refuses to wear her adorable, kid-friendly red polarfleece hat, even though tendrils of white-blonde hair are snapping off as she trudges through the snow-crusted backyard. grrr.
3) I desperately need to finish my last project at work before I am done in this position and move on to my next adventure. And though I know it'll get done, on some emotional level, I feel like the other shoe will drop at some point in time and it will not get done and my name will be marred forever as "the instructional designer who was almost stellar... but not quite." blah.
So, after much wrestling about with the tiny blonde defiant one, giving up and buckling her stuffed cat into the seat next to her so she'll quit screaming, "No no mama, language! Kitty need be buckled!", then shivering behind the wheel of the car, feeling the car idle and whine as it protests the cold and early hour, I sit there grouchily, willing the frost to melt from my windshield so I can get my day started (note to self: stop at Target today for an ice scraper).
After an eternity of watching the frost melt (don't I live a life of utter excitement), we finally lurch into the alley and on to our respective Thursday destinations.
We have previously established the fact that it's cold as a witches' titty in brass bra outside. I have almost forgot about these polar conditions til I get to the highway. Which is stopped dead. Why? No accidents, no stalls. Just this: it's cold, and somehow, this affects the general population's ability to drive more than 25 miles per hour.
So, there I sit, southbound stalled, frowning menacingly at the sun, which is cheery and fake on the outside and ice cold in reality, just like Brittany or Jessica or Ashley or whatever your high school cheerleading captain was named. And we plod along like we're all waiting to get our driver's liscenses renewed, a giant line to get to somewhere we don't really want to be anyway, and I cannot help but do what I do when I am bored: listen to loud music and peoplewatch.
I see the blonde soccer mom next to me, middle-aged and late to her destination as well, with her mouth in the signature "o" as she applies mascara and talks either to herself, someone I cannot see through the minivan's tinted windows, or a hands-free cell phone unbeknownced to her fellow commuters. In front of me: Grandma and Grandpa in a taupe Buick. Grandpa is wearing a gray fur cap -- the one you see in every Siberian scene in James Bond flicks -- and Grandma has her blue hair covered with one of those plastic hair thingamabobs. I realize there's a generational difference here -- I wouldn't even know where to get one of those plastic hair thingamabobs, even if it meant life or death.
Some suit in a black lexus with the liscense plate "IWIN" cuts me off across three lanes so he doesn't miss his exit. I hit the horn, just because it summarizes traffic this morning. Jerk.
Mama, language!
Sorry, Paige.
We're finally past 55 and moving at speeds worthy of a spedometer. Fast brakes -- likely some other overpaid, self-absorbed jerk needing to cut across three lanes of traffic somewhere ahead of me. After narrowly missing the bumper of the black VW Bug that has since merged in front of me, I sit back and take it all in. I can see down the highway, and it is median to median cars. And then R.E.M's "Finest Worksong" comes on Drive 105, and nothing says, hey, let's make the best of an otherwise rotten commute, than my own personal Michael Stipe sing-a-long. So we crank it up, I say, "Paige, let's jam for a minute, OK?"
"OK, Mama." and she proceeds to headbang. I love being a parent.
So, I'm bellowing like the in-car rockstar I am... and as I look in my rearview mirror, and there's some similar-aged guy in a black Camry doing the exact same thing I am. Freezing his tush off, white-knuckled in stop-and-go traffic, singing at the top of his lungs to an old R.E.M. tune because the radio is the only thing handing out good karma today.
Very nearly simultaneously, we both realize that we are rocking out to the same tune. He smiles; I wave. I get off on Glenwood and the day suddenly has new life breathed into it. Maybe it is because misery loves company; maybe it is because it was so humanizing to realize that there was someone else just like me out there, just trying to get to his neighborhood coffeeshop and office at a reasonable hour. Whatever the case, radio karma saved the morning commute.
Added to the bitter, shocking cold of the morning:
1) I haven't had the time or forethought to brew coffee. Which means I venture out into the arctic wasteland this morning completely un-caffeinated. frown.
2) My little person refuses to wear her adorable, kid-friendly red polarfleece hat, even though tendrils of white-blonde hair are snapping off as she trudges through the snow-crusted backyard. grrr.
3) I desperately need to finish my last project at work before I am done in this position and move on to my next adventure. And though I know it'll get done, on some emotional level, I feel like the other shoe will drop at some point in time and it will not get done and my name will be marred forever as "the instructional designer who was almost stellar... but not quite." blah.
So, after much wrestling about with the tiny blonde defiant one, giving up and buckling her stuffed cat into the seat next to her so she'll quit screaming, "No no mama, language! Kitty need be buckled!", then shivering behind the wheel of the car, feeling the car idle and whine as it protests the cold and early hour, I sit there grouchily, willing the frost to melt from my windshield so I can get my day started (note to self: stop at Target today for an ice scraper).
After an eternity of watching the frost melt (don't I live a life of utter excitement), we finally lurch into the alley and on to our respective Thursday destinations.
We have previously established the fact that it's cold as a witches' titty in brass bra outside. I have almost forgot about these polar conditions til I get to the highway. Which is stopped dead. Why? No accidents, no stalls. Just this: it's cold, and somehow, this affects the general population's ability to drive more than 25 miles per hour.
So, there I sit, southbound stalled, frowning menacingly at the sun, which is cheery and fake on the outside and ice cold in reality, just like Brittany or Jessica or Ashley or whatever your high school cheerleading captain was named. And we plod along like we're all waiting to get our driver's liscenses renewed, a giant line to get to somewhere we don't really want to be anyway, and I cannot help but do what I do when I am bored: listen to loud music and peoplewatch.
I see the blonde soccer mom next to me, middle-aged and late to her destination as well, with her mouth in the signature "o" as she applies mascara and talks either to herself, someone I cannot see through the minivan's tinted windows, or a hands-free cell phone unbeknownced to her fellow commuters. In front of me: Grandma and Grandpa in a taupe Buick. Grandpa is wearing a gray fur cap -- the one you see in every Siberian scene in James Bond flicks -- and Grandma has her blue hair covered with one of those plastic hair thingamabobs. I realize there's a generational difference here -- I wouldn't even know where to get one of those plastic hair thingamabobs, even if it meant life or death.
Some suit in a black lexus with the liscense plate "IWIN" cuts me off across three lanes so he doesn't miss his exit. I hit the horn, just because it summarizes traffic this morning. Jerk.
Mama, language!
Sorry, Paige.
We're finally past 55 and moving at speeds worthy of a spedometer. Fast brakes -- likely some other overpaid, self-absorbed jerk needing to cut across three lanes of traffic somewhere ahead of me. After narrowly missing the bumper of the black VW Bug that has since merged in front of me, I sit back and take it all in. I can see down the highway, and it is median to median cars. And then R.E.M's "Finest Worksong" comes on Drive 105, and nothing says, hey, let's make the best of an otherwise rotten commute, than my own personal Michael Stipe sing-a-long. So we crank it up, I say, "Paige, let's jam for a minute, OK?"
"OK, Mama." and she proceeds to headbang. I love being a parent.
So, I'm bellowing like the in-car rockstar I am... and as I look in my rearview mirror, and there's some similar-aged guy in a black Camry doing the exact same thing I am. Freezing his tush off, white-knuckled in stop-and-go traffic, singing at the top of his lungs to an old R.E.M. tune because the radio is the only thing handing out good karma today.
Very nearly simultaneously, we both realize that we are rocking out to the same tune. He smiles; I wave. I get off on Glenwood and the day suddenly has new life breathed into it. Maybe it is because misery loves company; maybe it is because it was so humanizing to realize that there was someone else just like me out there, just trying to get to his neighborhood coffeeshop and office at a reasonable hour. Whatever the case, radio karma saved the morning commute.
16.11.05
I think I can
it's that time of the year when everything is coming to a crescendo:
- term papers and projects are due.
- the holiday season is just about to ramp up, and of course, do I have a) gifts made b) gifts bought or c) gifts even in mind? No.
- I decide to switch jobs (swear on it, every other year I'm putting down new roots at a new gig over thanksgiving... not that I'm complaining; I'm totally stoked about the new job... it just seems odd to me that this always happens at the same time of the year when I do it.)
- I have some sort of emotional/relationship turmoil, upheaval, whatever happening.
- it gets cold. I go to work when it's dark. I leave work when it's dark. I feel like I will never feel the sweet, sweet love of the sun ever again.
- the small and needy creatures in my life (child and pets) go on the fritz. Paige is suddenly in this defiant "I don't want it" stage with EV-ER-YTHING, and Fred has taken a fancy to peeing on my knitting bag. Great...
I feel like I need a dose of The Little Engine That Could.
Chug chug chug. Puff puff puff. Ding-dong, ding-dong. The little train rumbled over the tracks. She was a happy little train for she had a jolly load to carry. Her cars were filled full of good things for girls and boys.
I think I can. I think I can. I think I can. I think I can...
9.11.05
singing the lauds of scandinavia
S: the whole scandinavian block kicks butt. :) I mean, Nokia, IKEA, lefse? I'm in heaven.
B: don't forget h&m, ginger snaps, herring, etc. some day i'll make you a swedish smorgasbord when we live up there again, we have it every christmas eve. last year we were at n's parent's for it and charis convinced me that Jesus wanted me to try homemade potato sausage and a meatball so i did. . . gotta say, didn't like meat and those were honestly like two of my faves.
bread and circus
Question: How will football change if it’s owned by Americans? Has United changed all that much? (courtesy of chris)
Answer: ... as long as the team is winning, no one cares who owns the Club…as long as they keep trying, spending money and beat Chelsea…seriously… (courtesy of dave)
sgh commentary: I guess that proves my point: (in my view, it's flawed...) but as professional sports teams go, it's about winning and making money. nothing else matters.
Answer: ... as long as the team is winning, no one cares who owns the Club…as long as they keep trying, spending money and beat Chelsea…seriously… (courtesy of dave)
sgh commentary: I guess that proves my point: (in my view, it's flawed...) but as professional sports teams go, it's about winning and making money. nothing else matters.
8.11.05
Artists currently reflecting the state of sgh
Nellie McKay new CD due 12/27! Can't wait! Love Nellie! Love her edgy political statements coupled with her musical talent... so makes me want to pack a bag and a wad of money and start over in New York. Sigh.
Dar Williams My Better Self released in October; Dar reflects me in all the goodness and humor that goes into being a parent and a woman and not quite defined as myself just yet.
Rilo Kiley just because they are fabulous, and their songs are about being imperfect. There's not a ton new going on with them that I know...
Scissor Sisters again, not because they have anything new coming out (we can only pray to the music gods for such a blessing) but because they are my latest "whoohoo, I'm going out" addiction these days.
Dar Williams My Better Self released in October; Dar reflects me in all the goodness and humor that goes into being a parent and a woman and not quite defined as myself just yet.
Rilo Kiley just because they are fabulous, and their songs are about being imperfect. There's not a ton new going on with them that I know...
Scissor Sisters again, not because they have anything new coming out (we can only pray to the music gods for such a blessing) but because they are my latest "whoohoo, I'm going out" addiction these days.
this american democratic life
"The great thing about democracy is that it gives every voter a chance to do something stupid."
(art spander, newpaper columnist)
(art spander, newpaper columnist)
7.11.05
steps toward a perfect monday
1) get up on time
2) enough hot water in the shower for me to do everything (including shave)
3) blow drying my hair turns out nicely
4) make up isn't scattered all over the house, so I can put it on in 5 minutes, on one level
5) put nylons on, no runs on the 1st try
6) I look skinny in the mirror
7) set the coffeepot to automatically brew the night before, so fresh java greets me downstairs
8) paige doesn't throw a temper-tantrum when I dress her, put her shoes on, put her coat on, get her cereal out
9) packed my breakfast and lunch
10) cat stays inside when I open the door
11) warm enough that I don't have to scrape frost off my car
12) paige gets in her carseat in a reasonable fashion
13) leave on time
14) traffic is light
15) remembered to pack my medicine in that handy little am/pm case (yup, I'm officially AARP-eligible)
16) got all the iPod accessories in order and am able to listen to a new playlist this morning
17) get paige dropped off without incident
18) get to work without incident
19) still look skinny in the mirror when I go to the bathroom mid-morning
20) office is blissfully slow and quiet this morning, meaning I can listen to music and work diligently and not be disturbed by co-workers to whom I am now for sure a pariah because of my impending resignation
2) enough hot water in the shower for me to do everything (including shave)
3) blow drying my hair turns out nicely
4) make up isn't scattered all over the house, so I can put it on in 5 minutes, on one level
5) put nylons on, no runs on the 1st try
6) I look skinny in the mirror
7) set the coffeepot to automatically brew the night before, so fresh java greets me downstairs
8) paige doesn't throw a temper-tantrum when I dress her, put her shoes on, put her coat on, get her cereal out
9) packed my breakfast and lunch
10) cat stays inside when I open the door
11) warm enough that I don't have to scrape frost off my car
12) paige gets in her carseat in a reasonable fashion
13) leave on time
14) traffic is light
15) remembered to pack my medicine in that handy little am/pm case (yup, I'm officially AARP-eligible)
16) got all the iPod accessories in order and am able to listen to a new playlist this morning
17) get paige dropped off without incident
18) get to work without incident
19) still look skinny in the mirror when I go to the bathroom mid-morning
20) office is blissfully slow and quiet this morning, meaning I can listen to music and work diligently and not be disturbed by co-workers to whom I am now for sure a pariah because of my impending resignation
4.11.05
3.11.05
my very favorite apologetic
Gigantically, whoops.
things are a little cleaned up around here these days. not to say that I am ashamed or denying myself any inner thoughts -- but I did inadvertently advertise them to a world that probably didn't need/want to see them.
and now, to borrow shamelessly from my favorite brit playwright:
If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
that we have but slumbered here,
while these visions did appear
And this weak and idle theme,
no more yeilding but a dream
Gentles, do not reprehend,
if you pardon, we will mend.
And, as I am an honest puck,
If we have unearned luck
Now to scape the serpent's tongue
We shall make amends ere long.
Else the puck a liar call,
and so good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
and Robin shall restore amends.
things are a little cleaned up around here these days. not to say that I am ashamed or denying myself any inner thoughts -- but I did inadvertently advertise them to a world that probably didn't need/want to see them.
and now, to borrow shamelessly from my favorite brit playwright:
If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
that we have but slumbered here,
while these visions did appear
And this weak and idle theme,
no more yeilding but a dream
Gentles, do not reprehend,
if you pardon, we will mend.
And, as I am an honest puck,
If we have unearned luck
Now to scape the serpent's tongue
We shall make amends ere long.
Else the puck a liar call,
and so good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
and Robin shall restore amends.
2.11.05
press release: sgh to be acquired
MINNEAPOLIS, Minn.--(GOSSIP WIRE)-- NOVEMBER 2, 2005-- Sarah Green Haggerty LTD (sgh) announced today a definitive agreement in which sgh and all related talents, passions, interests and professional endeavors will be acquired by Carlson Marketing Group under the title Consultant, based in the Learning Solutions Group headquartered in Plymouth, Minnesota.
Immediate details of the acquisition were not immediately released; however, the deal is expected to close on Monday, November 28, 2005.
"This recent career development has me completely and utterly stoked," said sgh founder Sarah Green Haggerty. "While I will miss my co-workers, my work and the amazing things I've been able to participate in at Metris, I am also excited for new challenges and adventures with Carlson. I am looking forward to aligning my professional goals with my new team and experiences and to learning a new perspective on the learning and development business."
Operating Data
Sarah Green Haggerty (sgh), based in Minneapolis, Minn., is an established training and development professional, active in her local ASTD and Crafter's Anonymous chapters, and is one of the original members of Three Sara(h)s and a Rachel. In addition to an extensive education and career experience in human resource development, she is also a seasoned quilter, writer, and floral consultant. For more information, visit www.terminallywanderlust.com or sghlifeandtimes.blogspot.com
Immediate details of the acquisition were not immediately released; however, the deal is expected to close on Monday, November 28, 2005.
"This recent career development has me completely and utterly stoked," said sgh founder Sarah Green Haggerty. "While I will miss my co-workers, my work and the amazing things I've been able to participate in at Metris, I am also excited for new challenges and adventures with Carlson. I am looking forward to aligning my professional goals with my new team and experiences and to learning a new perspective on the learning and development business."
Operating Data
Sarah Green Haggerty (sgh), based in Minneapolis, Minn., is an established training and development professional, active in her local ASTD and Crafter's Anonymous chapters, and is one of the original members of Three Sara(h)s and a Rachel. In addition to an extensive education and career experience in human resource development, she is also a seasoned quilter, writer, and floral consultant. For more information, visit www.terminallywanderlust.com or sghlifeandtimes.blogspot.com
1.11.05
lightbulb
it's been therapy I have wanted to do all along.
just not with dissatisfied couples or bipolar, middle-aged women.
Why this dawns on me now, I'll never know. However, I'm reading my articles for tonight's class (we're talking about organization development, which I have a certification in)... and the lightbulb over my head clicks on. OD (organization development) is nothing more than calling in the therapist for an organization ... not an individual, the whole company. I'm going to do therapy on big business!
This pleases the anti-establishment in me, the psychologist in me, the helper in me, and the writer in me.
I heart my career.
just not with dissatisfied couples or bipolar, middle-aged women.
Why this dawns on me now, I'll never know. However, I'm reading my articles for tonight's class (we're talking about organization development, which I have a certification in)... and the lightbulb over my head clicks on. OD (organization development) is nothing more than calling in the therapist for an organization ... not an individual, the whole company. I'm going to do therapy on big business!
This pleases the anti-establishment in me, the psychologist in me, the helper in me, and the writer in me.
I heart my career.
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