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That moment I have secretly dreaded but denied would ever happen:

Discovery of my blog by people with whom I work.

Someone gave me a heads up, but when I delved into the history, it became quite clear someone from the work ISP had been scouring my archives.


Even though it has been taken down for the time being, I am paranoid beyond belief. Who has seen it? What have they seen? Are they being slightly less nice to be today? Will they ever speak to me again?

All that ground which had been slowly gained, those little victories I was savoring in the headway of getting things accomplished and the latest discovery that my manager CAN BE NICE TO ME--would those all be in vain, now that my blog had been found?

Tempted, I am, to throw back my head and proudly embrace the bitchy persona. But it's rather hard to do that when they are on the verge of telling you:

You're fired.

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This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.

the past


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