Change...more than extra weight in the bottom of a purse

Whoever said "change is good" needs their head examined.  I agree that change is inevitable and can lead to good, but as itself change is not always good.  However, for there to be the opportunity for good, there does have to be change.

I have in the last, um, 52 days, experienced a great amount of change.  On the surface, I have not been feeling the good.  "They" say that the big life change stressors involve job change, relationship change, family addition/subtraction change, address change, and major purchase change.  At the beginning of September, in the span of 4 short days, I lived through 3 and by mid-September, I checked another off the list.

August 31 - Changes at work stemmed from the sudden serious medical emergency of my supervisor leading to an extended leave of absence on her part and my interim promotion into that supervisory role while for a month continuing to perform my regular job functions.  Now, training someone new to the job although not new to the agency or my life, but new to my team, to perform my regular job functions while doing the day to day supervisory functions I was previously only performing on a fill-in basis.  Thoughts and prayers with my friend and supervisor NK during her continued recovery.

September 1 - Changes in relationship stemmed from the extremely difficult decision to end a long-term serious relationship, which lead to the address change about three weeks later - September 18.  Upon the move and the break-up, I not only ended a relationship but also the companionship of my pet rabbits.  Now, the challenge of getting to know myself again, the realization of who I have in my corner and that I have some of the best friends and the most supportive family on the planet.

September 4 - Major purchase change triggered by the death of my car, requiring me to purchase a new-to-me vehicle on September 9.  RIP Maggie, but truly enjoying the reliability and excellent gas mileage Max as to offer.

After 52 days of reflection, contemplation, crying, praying, stressing, whining, etc., I have decided that I have no other choice but to deal with the change, to roll with the change, to try to see the bright and shiny amid the dark and twisty and hope that the bright and shiny will eventually win out over the dark and twisty. 

Like the change at the bottom of a purse, it's heavy and cumbersome.  It seemingly appears out of nowhere.  It clutters and disorganizes.  But it is worth something.  Change in the bottom of a purse can buy a Pepsi or pay a Thruway toll.  Change in my life can lead to something bright and shiny.

So, those of you who "know" me, understand that my normal has shifted, know that I need help and that I am often either too afraid or too stubborn to ask for it, and rest assure that my normal will eventually shift again.  I have that hope.

I feel a rant coming on...

Thinking of posting this blog was the only thing that kept me from breaking the law by pulling out my cellphone and updating either my Facebook status or Tweet in a rage on my drive home today!  First off, my driving lessons for the day:

1. The far-right pedal is the gas pedal - use it to make your car go faster
2. The white signs with the big black numbers on them are speed limit signs - the goal is to actually drive at that speed (or slightly faster) on a beautiful sunny late-afternoon - take note, mister white sedan
3. I cannot go faster than the slower-moving vehicle ahead of me, so keep in mind that...
4. The bright-yellow solid double lines in the middle of the road mean don't pass - no matter how close to my trunk you attempt to drive - I'm talking to you, mister tan GMC truck
5. The multiple vehicles of various shapes and sizes traveling in that other lane also mean don't pass if you don't believe the lines - still talking to you, GMC

I thank my Father for teaching me to drive defensively from the start and perhaps this solid foundation of knowledge has fueled my road rage tendencies.  I didn't go from zero to full-on rage in an instant (my scale goes 0-10 before hitting rant-requiring rage status), but several instances of idiocy got me going and once I pass the point of no return, it's a rant or nothing at all to get me back to zero.  I was pissed, so therefore, I rant.

It all started while I was driving home from work, minding my own business, jamming down to some of my favorite iTunes from my iTouch when a car pulled out in front of me in a 55mph zone (Rt. 15N at Rt. 256 for those who are interested).  This car did not cut me off and had the driver actually engaged his accelerator we would not have had a problem, but he did no such thing, in fact topped out at a mere 40mph before merging onto 390N.  Had this incident been it, I would have been okay - this minor irritation got me only up to a 2.5.

The rage began to bubble on Rts. 5 & 20W while driving through Avon with my friend mister GMC behind me not enjoying the fact that I will actually drive the speed limit of 30mph in Avon because I know exactly where my friends the police hang out...right before the speed limit changes to 55mph.  So, I waved at the cop parked waiting in his speed trap and got out of Avon, where I would usually get up to speed right around where 20W splits off, but someone had other ideas.   All the way to Rt. 36S in Caledonia, I bubbled and simmered my way to a full boil while I was behind a vehicle that did not know how to drive the speed limit on a nice bright sunny day - this would be the white sedan. 

I could not pass him - see Jenn's rules #4 and #5 - yet the GMC felt that because he was bigger that he could push me past.  Thankfully he didn't actully push my car - that would have really pissed me off - he just decided to try to drive while inside my trunk, try swirving behind me to see around me to pass before darting quickly back into his lane - across those sneaky little yellow double lines - to avoid getting nailed by oncoming traffic. 

So, the white car and I get separated at the monument before it left me for good by heading south on 36.  We were gladly separated by a fun guy on a crotch-rocket wearing what appeared to be low-riding jean shorts, high-riding Star Trek boxers beneath and he was rocking a tribal-inspired tramp stamp.  His appearance provided some much-needed and appreciated comic relief and calmed me a bit as I drove through Caledonia with the GMC still on my ass completely pissing me off until the 55mph sign when I left Mr. GMC right where he belonged - in my exhaust!!

To sum up:  if you drive with a brain and drive the speed-limit and stay out of my trunk, we'll be fine sharing the road!!  Thank you for allowing me to rant...I feel much better now!

Happy 5th Birthday, Heather Bunny!!

It's my oldest's 5th birthday. 

Yes, I know:  my oldest is a 5 year old, five pound, big-eared, carrot-munching, cage-living, furry, grey, Holland Lop-Rex mix neutered male rabbit. 

But what you may not know is that I did not know that my cute little baby bunny Heather was a boy until we took "her" to the vet at 7 months old to be spayed and he was neutered instead.  There was no way I could change Heather's name at that point in my head - Heather could probably care less, but does, for the record, respond to that name.  And, Heather is a rabbit - doesn't know or care that Heather is traditionally a name given to girls - since I actually picked the name based on the color - heather grey.  So, Heather is a neutered male rabbit that I usually refer to as "she" - usually only refer to as "he" at the vet.

I am aware that I have personified my pets.  Heather and her brother, Ben, both have people names, receive gifts when I go on vacation (those little personalized bike license plates you find in tourist trap stores or at the airport are tacked around their cages) and have stockings for Christmas.  They have personalities unique to them, they play and exhibit some serious sibling rivalry, and they have attitudes.  They both regularly display intelligence and stubbornness.  I have signed their names to cards and received gifts from them.  Heather and Ben are my pets, but they are also my family.  They are happy to see me when I come home - excited to be fed and receive attention.

People who aren't animal people might think that I'm crazy, but I like to think that this knowledge of my behavior is what keeps me from crossing the line over to the crazy bunny lady...well, that and B requiring me to get his written permission before adopting another bunny or bringing home any pet that doesn't live under water in a tank that I already own!

So, Happy 5th Birthday, Heather Bunny.  Momma loves you!