The Rabbit Hole

 

Such hard times we are living in.  How far apart we are in our opinions, disbelieving of the views of people we have known for weeks, years, our whole lives. Rather than continuing to rail against opposition of the administration, I have decided that I will share how I feel personally.

How I despair. How I hope.

In a scroll-by world, it can be too much to digest in one reading. In hopes of sharing my feelings more openly, I will post them one by one—each reflecting how the current political climate directly impacts my life and my dreams.

When this project is finished, I will share the complete composition. Please, rather than defend the opposing view, just move on. I am too fragile to fight with you anymore.

Day 1 of Sharing-Science and Research Funding

My sweet granddaughter is almost two but has a rare genetic diagnose where only 1 in 160 thousand babies are impacted. Before the 1980s, children like her didn’t make it past five known as “failure to thrive”.

Delilah is one of the youngest children ever to receive treatment developed through research programs as part of the National Institute Health. And I am crushed. Crushed that further research funding is held hostage. Crushed that the permanent solution she will need might never come.

What up?

What the hey Tuna Nation, getting a flurry of likes this month. Did I say vagina, vagina, vagina or something?

Focus Grasshopper

As much as I love Super Boss, he has the attention span of a gnat.  He is the first to confess that he is easily distracted by side conversations, email……….donuts. Just about anything.   And he retains only about half of what I say since he brain drifts off, the female voice must operate at too high an octave or like a dog whistle.  

I had a meeting with him and New Engineer, super shiny and smart, to discuss a particularly challenging design issue in his paper crammed office for which we didn’t have the project background.

“Let’s call Joe, he has all the info”. Picks up his phone, gives a little laugh as he reads a text from his wife, and commences to tell a cute follow up story about his daughter.  Puts the phone back down.

New Engineer:  “Now I know what you’re talking about.”

Super Boss: “What?” Call Joe, like ET phone home.

During my annual review as we were ticking through my previous development goals, it dawns on him that 99.9% of my action items were preceded by something HE was supposed to do first.  During this same group hug, I pointed out he had never sent me the job requirements for the fancy job promotion.

“I didn’t? Let me do it right now.” And embarks on looking through his email and then starts reading client emails to me.  2 months later, I’m still waiting to receive.  He compensated by giving me a nice raise and a little bonus.  Scared I’ll leave and he’ll have to depend on himself again for all his organizational shortcomings.

Coconut Lime Chicken

4 skinless chicken breasts

3 tablespoons olive oil

Zest of 1 large lime

1 teaspoon cumin

2 tablespoons soy sauce

1 ½ teaspoon kosher salt

3 tablespoons sugar

2 teaspoons curry powder

¾ cup canned coconut milk

Juice of 1 lime

¼ cup chopped cilantro.

Put chicken breasts in a ziplock. In a bowl, combine oil, lime zest, cumin, soy sauce, salt, sugar, curry, coconut milk and lime juice and pour over chicken. Marinade for at least 2 hours or better overnight.  Grill chicken until done. If you save the marinade and cook in a small sauce pan boiling for 4 or 5 minutes to kill the bacteria it is worth the effort.  You can either serve over rice or better in tortillas with lettuce and tomatoes.  Garnish with cilantro.

The big galute is also like having a teen boy who speaks before thinking the whole thing through.  One of our goals in 2016 is to work more on the marketing efforts. I am trying to not channel the spirt of Beer Girl, I certainly don’t have her giggle or boobs.  I’d set up a meet and greet with a particularly short architect we’d like to do a little business with.    They were hitting off famously, talking about San Diego and golf games. I zone out at this point since golf is a ridiculous game, the same response when it comes on TV and I fall asleep to their droning stiff upper lip voices.  

And then Super Boss launches into to a funny golf story involving a side bet that his buddy could drive a ball from he’s knees further that the MIDGET that was doing  a golf promotion. Snapped me right back into it.  He knew it was wrong as soon as he said it but couldn’t help himself, he didn’t know how to stop, he said midget 5 more times.  Stop. Talking. Now.   As we stood up and said goodbye, I couldn’t help but notice said architect only came up to my armpit. No hard feelings I’m sure.   I’ve got three more potential client meetings scheduled with Super Boss this week. Focus Grasshopper, snatch the pebble from my hand. Wish me luck Team Tuna.

Hello. It's me.

Hello. It’s me.

I was wondering if after all these years you’d like to hear me. (Adele)

Okay, maybe it hasn’t been years. But it certainly has been more than 45 minutes.  Long enough for a beer run certainly. But truth be told Team Tuna, misery is what sparks the snarky part of me.  Since leaving Endless Engineering, it has been coasting along. I did hear that Beer Girl with her long blond hair extensions and fake boobs left, no doubt once I bailed she was over faced with having to do her own freaking job.  

But my Facebook page has been suddenly getting a little action including a few new followers in the last week, thanks Kathy and Marion.  We’ve never met but I am a bit of a follower whore. The daily views could be by someone who recently defriended me, I wonder if they think I might write a post about them. It could happen. Blocking me from you Facebook is the equivalent to an electronic restraining order.  And very tempting.

Things however been a bit jammed packed with buying a house, selling a house, packing and lugging our shit across town.  The same faithful friends showed up on moving day but it only served to show that not only are we 15 years older, so are our friends.  The Big Tuna and I had a Thirty Three and a third wedding anniversary party to celebrate the new digs. A third of a century, that’s in real time, not dog years.

New House View

Additionally, I did a cross country trip with Sheldon to move her from the icy east coast since the Brit got a fab job in Seattle. Word to the wise, never, ever, ever, get off the Texas interstate during an icy storm to drive on the frontage road because it might appear it would be faster.  Never. Ever.  Mommy’s imaginary brake pedal was in overdrive. At least now we’re on the same time zone to talk on the phone. 

Better Engineering is still pretty entertaining. I mean it still has its challenges with the 12-year olds, Grumpy Guy and Super Boss but meh, its fine.   The other Project Manager stole one of my 12-year olds and replaced him with an Autistic Engineer, Augie.  The sole reason they assigned said engineer to me was to document him to be fired with my amazing way with writing words. Something all of you already know if you’re reading this blog. It didn’t bode well for him when he tried to awkwardly flirt with me.  

“Umm… Augie, I’m old enough to be your mom.”

“Not possible, how old are you” as he fidgeted and wrapped his arms around his own waist to give himself a little self-hug love.

“52” I shared.

“That’s WAAAAAY older than my mom! I mean WAY older.”

This is going on your permanent record for sure. Fortunately I made him go through enough flaming hoops to make him quit rather than having to fire him. Sigh, everything I learned about managing staff I learned by being the parent to a teenager.

Since I am still working a zillion hours a week, I did stumble upon an easy crockpot meatloaf.  This is after all a recipe blog.

Slow Cooker Meatloaf

2-pounds ground beef

½ pound ground Italian sausage

1 onion finely chopped

3 large carrots halved

2 eggs

1 ½ cups ketchup divided

¾ cup seasoned breadcrumbs

¼ cup light brown sugar

2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce

2 teaspoons salt

1 teaspoon garlic powder divided

1 teaspoon pepper

½ teaspoon yellow mustard

Place carrots in the bottom of your crockpot. Combine beef, sausage, onion, ¾ cup ketchup, breadcrumbs, eggs, ½ teaspoon garlic powder, Worcestershire, salt, pepper, mx well with your hands. You won’t die from touching it, do it.  Form meat into a loaf and place gently on top of carrots.  In same bowl, mix remaining ingredients and spread over the top of the loaf. Cover and cook on low of 8 hours.  If you felt inclined, you could serve over some mashed potatoes.

Maybe this little post will inspire me to crank out more posts. I could write about the drunk employee I just fired, Super Boss’ major ADD, world domination of the volunteer organizations or my brand new horse I just bought for a dollar.  Dealer’s choice. So show me a little love by commenting so I know I’m not in the dead zone. Good week Team Tuna.

Tuna in the House?

Hmmm....Mrs. Tuna had two new Facebook looks this week, is this a sign she should write something new?

Mommy Dearest

Better Engineering is well, better, way better.  I can’t believe I’ve been there for almost nine months, almost enough time to birth a baby. No more Endless Engineering, no longer being made to feel dumber than a rock, and best of all no fantastically fake Beer Girl. My new manager, Super Boss, tells me that I’m freaking amazing and allows me to run with scissors through the halls.   They even hired me a couple of 12-year old engineers to do a lot of the heavy lifting who are practically peeing their pants in their giddy excitement of being on a grownup team. 

But recently I have noticed a shift in how the professional world perceives me now.   I had a field meeting for a roadway design project that is located on tribal land with official state transportation oversight.  A major requirement for the visit where you play in traffic is to wear an attractive safety vest and hardhat. Stunning visual, me and helmet hair.   One of our sub consultants, Little Kenny, was far from that. Not only did he have to borrow a vest, we practically had to zip two of them together to straddle his massive girth.  The tribe gracious invited us to lunch at their casino where Little Kenny visited the buffet, three times to the point where the waitress offered him a bib.  Burp, I was afraid he was going to swallow me whole like a boa constrictor.

As we were saying our solemn goodbyes with steady handclasps, Kenny leapt upon me with a sweaty embrace declaring he just “gotta hug all the ladies”.  Awwwkkkkk, stop it, I am 15 years older than your target demographic.  I know I’m the only female here but hug Joe, my co-worker, if you need to feel the love.

The following week, on the way to another meeting, I recount the tale to Super Boss explaining that I work hard at radiating my super personal space bubble and my firm man handshake.    Then as I provide the introduction to an old client, I stick out my hand, only to get, “we’ve known each other a long time” hug. What the hell is going on? Am I in an alternate universe? I usual nip this shit in the bud. I once told a guy to stop calling me girl since hadn’t been a girl since I got my period at twelve in front of six coworkers.

Been feeling the need for less bread and more veggies in my diet so here is a little salad gig recipe my Sistah gave me.

Cashew Broccoli Salad

2 bunches raw broccoli cut into bite size pieces

1 pound cooked and crumbled bacon

¼ cup raisins

½ cup cashews

1 cup mayo

½ sugar

½ teaspoon white vinegar

Mix broccoli, bacon, raisins and cashews in a bowl. In separate bowl whisk together mayo, sugar and vinegar and pour over other. Chill several hours before serving.

At my husband’s holiday soiree I had an epiphany about all this free love as a young sale rep moved in for a little squeeze.  My thirties and forties flashed before my eyes. I have transitioned from being the Hot Chick to the comfortable Mom Hug. Ughh. Come here you widdle baby, didum have a no good horrible day?  There, there, come a little closer, so I can whip you with some wire hangers like Joan Crawford.    I am now going to go gargle with a little Botox and rest my weary head.  I’d sign this with XOXOXO but I don’t want to give any of you any ideas.  Good week Team Tuna.

Party Pooper

It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to, cry if I want to. Shit, now that little ditty is stuck in my head, yours too now I suppose. You’re welcome.  

Sheldon is turning, gasp, 25 years old! This is simply not possible, I cannot be the mother of a grown ass woman.  Like really grown up, not the young adult that tries to insist you can’t tell them what to do because they are over 18. As you make their cell phone, tuition, and car insurance payment.  

In my head I am still that thin, happening, young mom of thirty five. So essentially, I had Sheldon when I was 10, no problem, I can accept that.  Until I walk by a mirror and see the wrinkled neck line and cellulite that has now turned doughy.  Maybe I’ll just dim the lights and take off my glasses so I look a bit softer and more fuzzy. 

Sheldon and the Brit are still living away from the mother ship of Arizona in far, far away Pennsylvania/Maryland but I’m jetting in for her big day.  I’ll get to see their new adventures on the east coast including spending the day at her new job as a shiny new middle school math teacher. I am Show & Tell.  Since everyone should have their favorite meal on their birthday below is hers.

Beef Stroganoff     

1 pound beef cubed

½ cup flour

Salt and pepper to taste

3 tablespoons olive oil

2 cans beef consume

½ cup sour cream

Combine flour, salt and pepper in a bowl. Dredge meat in flour mixture. Heat oil in a large skillet and brown meat on all sides. Remove with slotted spoon and place in a saucepan. Add consume and cook on medium heat for 20 minutes covered. Add sour cream and cook until heated throughout. Do not boil. Serve over hot egg noodles.

As a big surprise, I’ve created a Prezi presentation that shows our little flower 25-year evolution. Shhhh….I’m not telling her until her actually birthday. It’s like fancy Microsoft PowerPoint, a little exposure tip from Beer Girl. 

https://prezi.com/n_vft481qxy2/kimberlys-birthday-no-music/

https://prezi.com/gpazf2jd_g4n/kimberlys-birthday-musical/

Above are two links, one with and one without music played by our baby girl while she was in Russia. I did two because the musical one might make your computer choke and die since it’s so big. In the lower right corner of the presentation, there is  button that allows you to run it on a loop, pick 4 second interval. Do It. Now. Please, no snarky remarks about Mrs. Tuna’s polygamist hair or said scrunchies.   Heart you Team Tuna!