2 Kool 4 Skool

It used to be when a company was having problems it would simply have a layoff. In our current world of sucky economics, they have developed a whole new lingo of fancy downsizing terminology.

MFT=Modified Full Time or…………..My Funding has Tanked

CCL=Company Convenience Leave or………………..Couldn’t Care Less

RIF=Reduction in Force or…………………………..Really Incredibly F****ed

We went through a major shake-up at the slave market earlier this year and they unfortunately axed a bunch of comrades in arms. It made me realize that I needed to ensure I was on my A game so I wouldn’t be eaten like that limping wilder beast. So I decided adding a degree in Urban Planning to my background in Civil Engineering would keep me as the lead pony in the race. I know I have to be way smarter than those darn 20 year olds, right?

But gathering all my proof that I wasn’t a dummy all my life to Arizona State proves to me why kids don’t go to school and just give up. It’s not the classes, it’s all the damn red tape. I’m exhausted already, so I’m making myself a little snack to build my strength.

Guiltless Guacamole
15 ounce can white kidney beans, drained and rinsed
1 tablespoon lime juice
1 jalapeno pepper seeded
½ cup fresh cilantro leaves
¼ cup coarsely chopped sweet onion
Pinch salt
1 ripe avocado pitted and diced
2 plum tomatoes diced

In food processor puree beans and lime juice until smooth and transfer to bowl. Put jalapeño, cilantro, onion and salt in processor and pulse. Mix all ingredients together and serve with veggies or tortilla chips.

First obstacle, extracting my high school transcripts from 1040 BC. Look here at these college transcripts, do you think I would have been allowed to attend this other college without proof positive? Naturally I tried gathering during the summer when my tiny teeny high school was closed for the break. After digging in the bowels of the basement they sent their mimeographed copies. (If you don’t know what mimeographing is, stop reading this blog and check back next week).

Next, you didn’t take this dumb English 101 class. See here Bucko, they wouldn’t let me take English 102 class without it. They just called it something different in the stone ages. Needed special English department override from Professor Smarty Pants.




But the most annoying task? Ummm, you need to show proof of having your 2, yes 2, MMR shots before you can register for classes. Really? You’ve got to be kidding me! I can certainly prove that Sheldon had her immunizations but my Mom only kept random notes we wrote to the Tooth Fairy, no proof of injections. It seemed easier to take the shots over then to try and prove I had my rabies/measles shot. Today I went to the ASU health center for shot 2 and while killing time in the holding cell/waiting room and what do I see on the end table? A giant basket of condoms with paper sacks for the taking. Awkward.

Sheldon and I will wear the scarlet robes at the same time. But I’m game, if nothing else it will certainly give me more tales for this little blog.

SWEet!!!! Young Things

One of the personal responsibilities I feel as a working engineering professional is to encourage engaging young woman to pursue careers in math and science. This week I had a chance to give a presentation to the ASU chapter of the Society of Women Engineers (SWE). Basically, your company pays to give a spiel about how fantastic your company is and how they should all grow up and be as lucky as you to work there.




Your contribution covers the cost of food, and as you might suspect , free pizza will bring out any starving college student. Since 99 percent of the time these little productions are given by men I thought I’d give a different spin and talk a little about my company and more about how to stand out from the crowd in the dog eat dog world. Here’s the type of food they should present at these events.

Artichoke Feta Dip
1 can artichoke hearts, chopped fine
1 cup mayo
½ cup parmesan cheese
½ cup feta cheese

Combine ingredients, mix well. Pour into a shallow baking dish and cook at 350 degrees for 20 to 25 minutes or until golden brown. Serve with rye party breads or crackers. Artichokes are your friend, you can never eat too much of a good thing.

Good evening ladies, I’m Mrs. Tuna and I work for Giant Engineering Company, Inc. where I’ve been a big muckity muck for the last three years. We do tons of different engineering, some of which I don’t even know what it really is but I work in transportation. Our core ideals are peeps are our greatest advantage and getting bigger is essential. You can look up more info on our website, giant-engineering.com. Now I’d like to talk about how to get a mentor, how to be a leader and networking doesn’t mean updating your Facebook status.

They'd eaten their chow and were trying to gauge how long they’d have to stay before bolting back to the dorms for beer pong. Time to change tactics and go for the stand up comedienne routine during the question and answer phase. The few boys that showed up for food and perhaps to pick up girls began to avert their eyes and slouch in their seats. But one brave guy asked the first question so partial credit was given. I digressed into funny stories about competing in a man’s world.

When asked about sexual harassment in the workplace. I told the story about how at one place on Valentine’s Day while standing at the copy machine, the owner of the company offered to show me his special Valentine’s underwear. When I declined, he pulled up the corner of his heart adorned boxers so I could see the edge. I told him that he needed to put himself in timeout.

When questioned about interning, I explained my last intern was the son of a previous supervisor. My current boss queried me about his work ethic and I told him as a sophomore in high school he did a good job mowing my lawn. He ended up working for me for3 years after graduation.

When asked about my project team, I said they knew when I asked them how their weekend was, they need to tell me about it in three sentences or less. It’s not that I don’t care, but my head if swirling with all the tasks at hand. Spit it out already.

In the end, they said I was the best and funniest speaker they’d ever had and would I be the opening act every meeting. I said as long as when our competitors We Think We’re Better Engineers presented next month they’d tell them our company were the better Rock Stars.

Ding, 5th floor, House Wares and Ladies Shoes

Recently I went to a professional development breakfast where the topic was perfecting your elevator speech. We practiced with each other in a format very similar to speed dating. What I began to realize after round two was I still keep talking, even as the elevator doors closed behind you. I bring this up since I’ve begun to notice this blog is running away with me, too many feisty words. The perfect blog length is between 200 to 300 words. (80 words so far)

I could tell you about the time I was about to be introduced to the US Secretary of Transportation and my co worker told me to keep it on a leash, but that would be 246 words.

Or the time I blanked out on someone’s name during an introduction and had to use his behind closed doors moniker, WBC, (Whine Bitch and Complain) but that would be another 157 words. So quick, out of the gate, this week’s microwave recipe. (164 words and counting)

Weekday Sheppard’s Pie
1 pound ground beef
½ onion minced
10 ounce package frozen green beans (I could go on and on about how I like extra green beans so I add more but that would be more words)
1 can tomato soup
½ teaspoon dried basil
1 tablespoon Worchester sauce
3-4 servings instant mashed potatoes according to directions
1 cup shredded cheddar cheese

Brown meat and onion in casserole dish in microwave. Add green beans, tomato soup, basil and Worchester sauce and heat for 8 minutes stirring once or twice. Scoop mashed potatoes on top, heat for 2 minutes. Sprinkle on cheese and heat until melted.

I pledge to fit this blog on a single screen, saving you from having to scroll down. Important to keep that index finger in shape. Length of articles are dependent on the amount of liquor consumed. (Akkk, so close, maybe next time I won’t actually count the recipe, 326 words)

911-911, Emergency, Emergency

Bebe and I met over twenty years ago, innocently at a neighbor’s baby shower. There were six pregnant neighbor women at the shower, maybe something in the water. I certainly swore off tap water after that. Who knew at the time we’d end up being the sisters we never had. Well okay I do have sisters, but not one who wouldn’t steal my clothes or my boyfriends or eat the last Popsicle without asking.

Her little kiddies are only 14 months apart and Bubba was often out of town hunting and killing to fill their freezer. The Big Tuna often stepped in as the extra parent when we took our broods out to places like the State Fair or Sesame Street Live so we weren’t outnumbered. He began to spend so much time with us he said he felt like a polygamist and started calling her Wife Number Two. And thus became our life as Siamese Twins, drinking wine with ice cubes and play dates. I can honestly say I’ve never made a major furniture purchase that she didn’t sit on prior to writing a check.

One of the first things I noticed was that her birthday was September 11th, 911, 911. She claims to have never noticed until I pointed it out. My powers of observation are stellar. At least related to mundane unimportant things like whether someone’s socks match. She is the most positive cheerleader you can have, a direct counter point to my sarcastic but charming personality. Whenever she gets into her happy bubble, it’s my job to remind her of all those “special” moments that make 9/11 the perfect date for her.
• Remember the time we had the kids at the newly finished park and I said, “some little kid is going to walk up to that unfinished bench and get his arm stuck in that unfinished hole”? And Sean ran over and put his in and we almost had to call the fire department to get him out?
• Remember the time Bubba went elk hunting on your due date and you took a long hot shower? When you wouldn’t answer the door we boost Jim over the fence to peer in your bedroom window and catch you almost naked?
• Remember the time Nash broke his arm on the EXACT same swing his older brother broke his arm on the year before?
• Remember the time we went to the bar and I didn’t have my ID and they tried carding me at 38 years old and they insisted they carded everyone? When you offered yours up they said, no that’s okay madam?
• Remember Wally?

I could go on and on and on but I have to stop so as not to ruin the birthday moment. Here’s one of my fast and furious recipes that Bebe has come to enjoy.

Spicy Fettuccine
1 Tablespoon Butter
¼ cup minced onion
1/ teaspoon red pepper flakes
1 can whole tomatoes (Progresso Basil)
¼ teaspoon salt
1/3 cup heavy cream
¼ cup shredded fresh basil

Melt butter in large skillet. Add onions and red pepper flakes, cook over medium heat until onion is tender. Run tomatoes through food processor and add with salt to onion mixture. Cook over medium heat for 8 minutes. Stir in cream and bring to boil for 1 minute. Cook fettuccine according to package direction. Toss with sauce and garnish with basil

Bebe had a birthday this weekend. She spent it getting wild and wooly as you can get in Salt Lake City. Now that my BFF is living in BFE we satisfy ourselves with endless phone calls and Skype wine dates. She tells her family that she is flying in to see them but we both know it’s really to see me and Sheldon. So when are you coming home? I need to go shopping for new guest room furniture.

You’re not the Boss of Me….Am Too!!!

My friends and I are all at that awkward period of our lives. Our offspring are chomping at the bit to make a break for it and begin their adventures as full fledged adults. We of course know better with our mama bear instincts and think they need a little more time to ripen before they operate without a net.

My Sistah and I often discuss how people at work commend us on our sharp minds, how we have excellent communication skills and never forget a thing. Our children however swear we never listen to them. “I told you I had to have that book for my summer reading list a thousand times!!!!!” they shriek. First of all, telling me the day before school starts doesn’t make it count as a thousand and two, back away from the Mama until you can rein in those hormones honey child. I only have Sheldon where My Sistah has a 13 year old girl and a 16 year old boy. Just about the time the Boy learns to be a bit more civil the Girl will be in the throngs of sweaty boys and stuck up girls.

School is back in session and one barn girlfriend is suffering from big time empty nest syndrome. Her baby girl is torturing her with the death of a thousand paper cuts, not taking her calls unless the baby is overwrought or out of money. The daughter’s Facebook pictures show her having entirely too much fun without mommy. I’ve been making sympathetic clucking noises reminding her that Sheldon still tries to escape like a crafty wild pony but sometimes will stick around for a few carrots and sugar cubes. Now days, Sheldon won’t reject my advice immediately, usually waiting at least 10 minutes. Sometimes she even, Gasp!! Says I was right. Not often but from time to time. Reintroduce yourself to those friends you’ve not been having enough time for and maybe even make a few new ones of your own. Here’s an appetizer recipe to have with your wine while toasting each other about what underappreciated parents you are.

Grilled Goat Cheese Peppers
4 red or yellow peppers
1 cup goat cheese
1 ½ cups Mexican cheese
¼ cup diced fresh basil

Cut and deseed peppers into 1” strips. Mix cheese and basil in separate bowl. Place peppers inside of pepper down on medium grill for approximately 3-4 minutes. Flip over and smear cheese mixture on inside and continue to grill until cheese is melted. If you’re uncoordinated like me, take the peppers off, stuff them and put them back on.

So what’s the difference between teenage boys and girls? The parallel universe of taking out the trash.

Boy, take out the trash. Right after I update my Facebook Status Mom.
Boy, take out the trash. At the next commercial.
Boy, take out the trash. Soon as this show is over.
Boy, take out the trash. Gotta finish my homework, I’ll do it in the morning.

Girl, take out the trash. Screw you, I hate you, you make me do everything!!!

End result, you're still taking out the trash yourself.

I know it’s hard, about the time the kiddies need you to stop holding their hands and are people you’d actually like to hang out with, they “de-friend” you. Just know that LOVE is a four letter word and the older they get, the smarter you will seem to them. If only we could lock them in their room until they see it our way, since after all, Mother knows Best.

The Big Tuna turns F-f-f-f-f-fifty!!!!!!

Hard to believe but my guy has hit the half century mark. Eeeeekkkkkk!!!! I’m sure all of you just view me as his much, much younger trophy wife. I was a child bride, at least that’s what I want all of you to think. So what attracted me to my future mate?

Was it that he was taller than me? Was a guy with John Denver good looks? Opened doors for little old ladies? No the sexiest thing about him was that he was the handiest guy I’d ever met. A huge contrast from my own dear daddy who had an eclectic way of home repair. Prime example, Dad painted one side of our enormous house every summer so he wasn’t overwhelmed by a single giant job. He did his best work on the summers he got to paint the “short” ends of the house. Once he used outdoor house stucco to patch a plaster crack on an indoor staircase, when it hardened like a rock, he carried the theme through the whole alcove. I could go on, and on, and on, but this is about the big guy. I’m sure Dad will continue to be featured in upcoming blogs.

I lived in a tiny basement apartment in a rural house in NJ and one of his buddies was dating a girl named Crazy Mary who rented a room in the upstairs part of the house. Since the landlord had little kiddies, he had a firm No Evil Boys allowed in the main house, so Crazy Mary entertained her friends in my windowless apartment. It was truly so dark if I woke up I could never tell if it was 3 o’clock in the morning or afternoon. He tagged along one day, saw my picture in the apartment and just knew he had to meet me. They schemed to arrange a coincidental blind date at the local watering hole, the Rock Bottom Inn. Now that I’ve typed this out he sounds a little more like a stalker, but in a good way.

He grew up in a meat and potatoes Polish family. But he did bring to the marriage a fabulous soup recipe.

Dave’s World Famous Tomato Soup
1 ½ pound hunk of beef with bone in
2 beef bouillon cubes
3 -28 ounce cans whole tomatoes, crush was potato masher
2-16 ounce cans tomato sauce
1 teaspoon salt
5 medium potatoes peeled and cubed
3 cups cooked rice
Sour cream to taste

Put meat and bouillon cubes in a large pot and cover with water approximately 2 inches higher than the meat. Cook over a medium low heat for 1 hour stirring often. Add tomatoes and tomato sauce and continue to cook for another hour. Add potatoes and cook for another half hour or until potatoes are tender. Serve soup over cooked rice, if you put rice in the soup pot it gets too soggy. Add sour cream to taste. Tomato Rice Soup is the Polish cure for the common cold which makes sense since it’s loaded with vitamin C. When you get a scratchy throat coming on, whip up a batch and heal the whole family.


The thing that sealed the deal? I got a flat tire, he walked a mile in the snow, yes of course up hill. When he popped the trunk and the spare with flat too, he gave a little smile and said no problem. I’d literally known him two weeks and thought, that’s the man I’m going to marry. I’m going to be the future Mrs. Tuna. And so I am, hooray for me!

Welcome to the Cool Girls Table

Hard as it is to believe I wasn’t always the outgoing over the top chick I am today. High school was a painful wall flower experience. My graduating class was only about 100 kiddies for which I weighed 105 pounds and was 8 feet taller then they were. Awkward doesn’t begin to cover it. I was never one of the cool girls, fortunately we lived close to school so I wasn’t subjected to the embarrassment of sitting alone at lunch with my peanut butter and mayo sandwich. Even my Sista, owner of 50 Izod shirts wouldn’t be caught dead with me wandering the halls.

But there were Mean Girls, the ones who would focus on you at opportune times, drawing attention to some small aspect of you that was already magnified in your own mind. Like the gigantic pimple, right in the middle of your forehead. “Hey, jolly green giant that is the biggest blotch I’ve ever seen. Muffy, did you see the ostrich’s zit?” I did get some minor satisfaction in highlighting them in my creative writing classes under secret names. But now I’ve got my big girl panties on, bring it on.

While not the victim, I witnessed a Mean Girl incident at the slave market this week. Challenges in this current economic market often lead to a realigning of duties, or the moon and the stars in extreme cases. Benito Mussolini has recently overthrown the Administrative Pool and leapt to the top of the heap. Why is it once you get appointed as the head cheerleader your bitchy gene breaks out in full force? The girls on the bottom of the pyramid are about to revolt and leave her without a spotter. What can I do to brighten your day? Feature your woes in a blog? Pick your favorite food and I’ll cough up a recipe to make you feel better. Pig, the other white meat.

Rosemary Orange Glaze Pork

This is a multi stop project that actually goes really quick on the grill. The first step is to brine the pork loins to make them really juicy and tender. Second you brush on the glaze prior to and while grilling. Last you prepare the sauce to put in a gravy boat or if you’re like me, just eat by the spoonful in the kitchen and hope there is some left for the guest.

Brine Mixture
½ cup kosher salt
½ cup sugar
Dissolve salt and sugar in a large bowl with about 6 cups of water. Submerge pork loins in brine and let stand for 45 minutes. Rise pork well and pat dry.

Glaze Mixture
¼ cup frozen orange juice concentrate thawed
1 teaspoon brown sugar
4 teaspoons fresh rosemary
In small saucepan bring OZ, brown sugar and rosemary to simmer. Simmer until mixture reduces to about 4 tablespoons.

Orange Balsamic Sauce
1 teaspoon olive oil
2 cloves garlic minced
½ teaspoon fresh rosemary minced
1/3 cup orange marmalade
4 teaspoons balsamic vinegar
Heat oil in small saucepan over medium heat, add garlic and rosemary and cook until fragrant and sizzling. Stir in marmalade and vinegar, heat until warm, serve in a gravy boat.

Run brined tenderloins all over with the glaze. Heat gas grill to high for 10 to 15 minutes, reduce heat to medium. Place pork on grill rotating every minutes for approximately 20-25 minutes or until the instant read thermometer reads 145 degrees. Slice and serve with sauce and mashed potatoes.

Now that I’m all grown up, I’m better at negotiating those waters. I will now share with you the words I always use in the politically correct environment. My mom shared this story with me.

Two Southern ladies are sitting on the porch sipping mint juleps.

Mary: “My Harry bought me these fine diamond rings”

Susanna: “Imagine that”

Mary: “My Harry took me on a Caribbean cruise”

Susanna: “Imagine that”

Mary: “My Harry bought me this fur jacket, what does your George do for you?”

Susanna: “My George taught me to say imagine that rather then F*** you. “

Welcome to the cool girls table.