It’s that time of year again…

when I become the same age as my husband;

when I fight when with my body not to accept the number;

when I promise myself this is the year I get into shape.

I don’t celebrate this time of year, but it doesn’t break my heart when I get good wishes. This year my husband gave me an awesome gift. A trip to PPG Paints stadium to watch the Pens beat the Maple Leafs. What a great game.

Hockey tickets, especially for 5x Stanley Cup winners (an current defender of the Cup) are not cheap. I was also gifted a Pens shirt and a Hot Chick sandwich from The Burgatory. The company was awesome.

My throat is sore today from screaming and after last night, I have been to live major sporting events except for football.

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To temper my last post…

Just so y’all don’t think I’m 100% whacked after my last post, here is one to prove I am a productive member of society.

I used the long weekend to work my way through a half bushel of peaches. Since I cannot claim to be perfectly sane, I have to admit that of all the fruits God has blessed us with, I despise peaches the most. They are slimy, stinky, mushy and all-around gross. But my husband loves canned peaches. So sanity aside, I am nothing if not completely devoted to those I love and I got right on it.

First we found yellow freestone peaches at one of the many fresh fruit markets. Gotta love living here!!

Then a large, fat spider crawled out of the box so they entire box went into a sink full of water in the hopes of drowning any of its companions.

I then proceeded to make seven quarts of canned peaches, five 1/2 pints of peach jam, and a large baking dish of peach cobbler.

Crush the pooch made everything I did in the kitchen difficult as best as he always does. Ready to catch a slippery slimy peach slice or, as per my other chores, cut up watermelon, sliced apples for overnight oats, or shredded beef for the Philly cheesesteaks. Or, as in the photo below, napping in such a way so as to not let me slip out undetected – one paw across my foot and his head locked into my ankle.

I did do a batch of pineapple habanero jelly for myself but I’m so done using Ball® pectin. This is the second time I used it and my jelly didn’t set. I’m not comforted by the “if your jelly doesn’t set” instructions included in their packet. So my “jelly” is preserves and will be good on fish or chicken. I had a bit on some crackers and it is really tasty.

I had a good mix of Halestorm, In This Moment, Amaranthine, and Breaking Benjamin with some classic Iron Maiden and Scorpions mixed in playing on Spotify so the afternoons flew by.

It was a nice holiday weekend with the SOHM home from college and beautiful weather. Good for a little mental rehabilitation.

Page 2 of my Things To Do List

For 30 years I have been in the same career.  I like what I do.  I’m good at what I do.  When I moved home, I had a job waiting for me, having interviewed via Skype and offered a position with a firm before I left.  There were three of us sharing the work of three attorneys.  At first I thought it would be nice to have an easier workload.   After all, I was leaving my job where I solely supported 15 attorneys.  I didn’t have much of a social life, other than physically exhausting myself in the boxing gym.  I didn’t need a social life then.   Within 6 months there, I was struggling to find work to motivate me.  Oh sure…I could bates number a few documents or retype verbatim the medical records, but I wasn’t being challenged.  I tried hanging in here…hoping to get busier, but after 1-1/2 years, I left.

I use a tablet of “Things To Do”.  20 lines.  Colorful markers.   It keeps me focused and I can quickly refer to client names and numbers, especially being new.  At my previous job, I was lucky to fill three lines in a week.

Flash forward to yesterday.   Week three at my new job.  Tuesday.  I had to start a second page for this week.  Page 2.  Projects 21-40, although as of 5 pm today (Wednesday) only 8 lines on page 2 were filled.  And not scanning/retyping/photocopying projects.  We are talking research and “come up with a plan of action” projects.  Oh vey.

I am ecstatic.  Exhausted but ecstatic.  Be careful what you wish for…right?