The Black Mold on My Shiny New Job

My "dream job" has turned into a disturbing, bad dream.

Several of my co-workers are covered with skin irritations and open sores. Our eyes burn and sometimes people go home with crusty, "mucous-covered" eyelashes. Migraine headaches. Coughing and wheezing.

Since I started this job six months ago, the suggestion of a "sick building" has been a constant topic of conversation, especially after a long weekend when people start to feel better (once they have spent some time on the outside).

Yesterday a mechanical closet near our office suite was quarantined by maintenance personnel after it was found to have walls covered in black mold. Ceiling tiles, upon removal and inspection, also show evidence of insect infestation and pervasive mold.

The institution could move us to another area, perhaps, but to date there has been no official communication about the topic. My boss seems blind-sided by this and other serious situations.

I have ideas about the mold, team-building, the workplace bully, office communication, marketing, student advisement, technology, and more.

But nobody seems to listen.

Hidden from Sight

If there was a "recurring theme" to Mr. WestBerryWorkingDad's last business trip (the period of time while he was away) it would be "on fire." The theme for this trip, I would have to say, is "hidden."

My cell phone went missing, somewhere in the house. I searched for it for six or seven days and then finally ordered a new one.

The boys hid dirty dishes under the cellar stairs, instead of washing them. They also hid some around the kitchen garbage on the floor. Or course, I found those. My eyes were immediately drawn to the pile, as I walked into the room...with the company that had just arrived.

My friend Diana is rediscovering her (our) home town. She continues to marvel at the wonderful restaurants that we visit together and the "hidden stories" of amazing people who came from the area. She wonders why these places and faces were always hidden to her.

Diana has introduced me to some wonderful "discoveries" as well. Last night she gave me some sheep's milk feta cheese imported from Israel. DEEELISH!

This week at gymnastics I made a new friend. This is significant because I have been praying for a long time that I would find another Christian mom to socialize with.

Diana and "Mrs. W" - two formerly hidden treasures.


I will go before you and make the rough places smooth; I will shatter the doors of bronze and cut through their iron bars. 3"I will give you the treasures of darkness And hidden wealth of secret places, So that you may know that it is I, The LORD, the God of Israel, who calls you by your name. Isiah 45: 2-3

A Whole New Low

Last night I hit a whole new low.

After leaving work late, forgetting that I needed to pick the boys up from the sitters and learning that I had missed a visit from my Godmother by ten minutes, I dropped W off at home to get ready for football and headed off to the chiropractor.

It was an EXCELLENT adjustment. Our chiropractor, a personal friend, is also a football mom. Last season her son was badly injured during a game. He had surgery and then sat out of all sports for several months. Still, he was choosing to play again this year.

When I picked W up from practice he was definitely "HANGRY," complaining that he KNEW he had a concussion because he could feel his brain jiggle.

At home the "first day back to college" student had passed out on the side porch. I had to steop over his body to go inside.

The 8 year old was SCREAMING. When I examined his foot I found toe that was swollen to twice its size, purple and striped. I feared infection.

The 17-year old agreed to do chores, while informing me that the team trainer had diagnosed him with a sprained shoulder-rotator cup-something.

Standing water in the basement. I found boxes of photos and books covered in a thick, green mold.

I took a bottle of wine and a glass up to bed with me. Turned on Food Network and then Mr. WestBerryWorkingDad called.

"The house sold today!" he reported.

I repeated/mumbled. "The house...closed...sold..today...yay."

"Can I call you back tomorrow?" I asked. Seriously. I couldn't drum up even an ounce of excitement.

This morning, however, I'm elated.

Kittens and the House(s)

I sent the 8-year-old upstairs to put some clean, folded laundry on his brother's bed. He returned downstairs quickly (this was the first sign that something was "amiss" since the boys often scatter when there is work to do). I overheard a whisper but couldn't make out the content of the message.

Giggles. Loud footsteps. Doors open and closing.

Finally, a boy put out the challenge..."Mom. There are kittens upstairs."

I say "challenge" because my family is well aware that I do not relate well to felines.

They found three "gooey-eyed," "too little for their collars" kittens living in a closet in the oldest boy's bedroom. The mother cat was, I later learned, hit by a car.

All five "kids" enjoyed playing with the kittens through the evening.

While they cuddled with the babies and took pictures to post on Facebook, we also talked about B & J's plans for purchasing a house or renting an apartment after their wedding.

It was quite a different experience to be on the listening end of plans to search for and buy a first home. I appreciated the fact that their plans did not involve any choices or financial obligation on my part.

Mr. WestBerryDad and I are still waiting to sell our own House1, a smaller farm house we brought our second baby home to over 17 years ago! Once it sells, we may be able to buy a snow-blower or a tractor and, perhaps, a new couch. The couch we have now has seen 24 years worth of pets, kids, and winters and its arms have been emptied of all of their stuffing.

The cats can stay...for today.

Encouragement

The Fall 2015 semester began yesterday. I enjoyed seeing both new and former students return to our classrooms. Our shiny, new cafeteria is open for business and people are, once again, sitting around the tables in the lunchroom area.

Some of my favorite people returned to campus: my own mentor, Kathy, and an Education Professor I adore, Christine.

My oldest son and his fiancé decided to pop in and we found one another up in the hallway above the library. They had run into some other students from their local high school. We chatted and I invited them to see my office.

Christine had been my future daughter-in-law's favorite professor when she (B) studied here before transferring to a 4-year school to continue her studies. They ran into one another and B had the chance to show off her ring and share the wedding plans.

Christine stopped down to see me later...simply to share in the excitement over the engagement. She shared praises for "the kids" and most importantly, words of encouragement.

This was exactly what I needed.

“Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and those who love it will eat its fruits” (Proverbs 18:21)

Lord, thank you for Christine. And B. And J.

Tell Me Something Good

For some reason, I began this "business trip" feeling especially anxious about my responsibilities at work and at home.

My boss is the kind of person that NEVER says "thank you" and is especially stingy with words of encouragement. In fact, the entire office suffers from a deep lack of morale.

My house and yard strike me as in need of repairs and attention. Projects that are...big...huge...overwhelming. In fact, I wake up at night murmuring, "I have 17 rooms to clean. 17 rooms to clean."

I'm trying to finish graduate school, a program I've entered and re-entered three times now. The college had me re-take a course I'd already passed which means I can only go part time next semester which means...no options for loans or financial aid. Oh, and I'm "off sequence" so it is going to take me two more semesters to finish instead of one.

I was looking forward to going to the Puerto Rican Festival with a friend. And four kids. My four kids.

The city just experienced a drive-by shooting that left four young people dead and three critically wounded. I was nervous about the climate in the city (and about keeping my own gang safe and fed). It was awkward and uncomfortable to be frisked going into the festival. One of my boys had his cell phone stolen and sure enough, violence surrounded the festival. Thankfully, we didn't see any of the "action" but the experience was less than entertaining. And far less than relaxing.

Today the stock market fell...a lot.

Please. Please. Please.

Tell me something good.

Well, this morning I submitted my research proposal. Of course, it was submitted 13 hours past the deadline and I failed to review 10 sources (only noticing this requirement after I'd pressed the SUBMIT button).

Give me some credit, please.

Because sometimes we get stuck in kvetching or complaining or self-loathing and we have a symbiotic relationship so it’s like we share a brain, and anyway, the “tell me something good” snaps us out of the nonsense and whining. It forces us to pay attention and to, well, focus on what is good.

On what IS working rather than what is NOT.

It can be anything. Like “today I got out of bed.” << some days that sh*t is hard. It can be “My son graduated. It’s raining and I like it. I ate a beautiful salad. I got a raise. I didn’t have a suicidal thought today.” Anything. So you, tribe, my beloved peeps I love so much…. Tell me something good. I want all of you to comment. Seriously. Let’s do this.

1,000 Candles

My oldest son proposed to the love of his life! She is a talented, beautiful, Godly young woman, and...she said, "yes!"

To avoid revealing too much private information online, I'll share only the "teaser" that his proposal involved 1,000 lit candles!

The story of his proposal will be told for generations, I'm sure :)