I’m in a bit of hot water with a local company. And well I should be. I bought a kettle, filled it with water, jumped into the water, and then asked some suits to go ahead and be in charge of that little knob they use for turning up the heat. It was gentle and warming at first, but now it’s cranked past my comfort level, and in a few days I’ll be boiling like a frog.

The CFO has agreed to speak to me at 3 pm.

I was tempted to wedge the word “ethics” into the discussion. Then Patty called and knocked some sense into me. They’re the dealer, I’m a two-bit player just come in from Idaho. Keep it zipped up, smile, and appeal to their love of a hottie. No! That’s not what Patty said. Plus, they have no way of knowing of my hotness. AND, plus, also, too, if they had any access to my hotness, they might not recognize it for the hotness that it is.  Because it is after all only that kind of hotness as can be appreciated by a woman, and then, only by a certain kind of woman, the lesbian variety, and even then, only she who might appreciate a wordy gal with a love of sport.  So, I hereby throw out the hottie defense, which doesn’t even work for real hotties anyhow. Didn’t Winona Rider do time for some petty-ass shop-lifting? Someone who reads and watches TV, please inform.

Anne’s Abq. lawyer also warned me of being contentious or offensive, as it puts others on the offensive. A lesson to be learned in life as well as in business. In fact it got me to thinking about how reactive I am in general. I’m like some volatile chemical. When I was born, some meteor shower sprayed some moody planet, and now that planet is all pissed off, and is blaming me for the meteor shower. So I’m all reactive and shit. You poke me, I poke you back. I don’t breathe deeply and ask, why did you poke me just now? What do you stand to gain by the poking of me?  What flower might I offer you in settlement? Nope, I just react.

All of this would depress me, if not for the news Emma brings, which is that I can change. Emma brought that news, and I’ve come to believe that. Which is an accomplishment for someone pushing 50, prone to believing what they say about aging. Yadda yadda, old dog new tricks, yadda yadda.

Okay, I hate it when people say yadda yadda, so why did I just say it? Cuz I got a heap of nervous energy to burn here.

I was supposed to meet a friend today for lunch, but I was worried I might try to knock her block off, so I called it off.  My friends are so lucky I’ve been learning!

In other news, Lily writes me emails about buying flower bulbs and feeling guilty for it–until she looks at her vet expenses, and then feels justified in her lavishness, her lascivious lavishity.

Which somehow, since my mind is all over the map, brings to mind a song which I loved to sing with my grandma:

“What a friend we have in Jeeeee-sus”.

We would really stretch out the “Jeeeeeeeeeeeee” part. I liked that. The ladies’ soprano voices would stretch ever so high, to the rafters, and beyond, to heaven. Presumably?

Well, that there’s the update from my world. Welcome to it.

Barbara’s bowl of water and food is to my right. I hear her sips. My lap anticipates this, and looks forward to the pouncing and the warming which follow the sipping.She’s got me trained, a la Pavlov.

There’s a small mite cruising on my screen. It’s annoying and I will go now, smite it, and end its life.  Suits, beware!