A few reasons why I enjoy my job:

In the afternoon, the elevators smell of coffee. Good coffee, not stale office coffee. There is a Caribou near the elevator lobby. I don’t think I would enjoy my afternoon breaks as much if a Subway was in its stead. I’ve pretty much avoided mochas for months and months now; it’s the only kind of coffee drink I like but it gives me the jitters. But the aroma is still heavenly. Marshall’s hair smells of coffee when I hug him close. I wonder if my hair ever smelled of tea. (My clothes certainly did. I loved unfolding a pair of jeans from the closet and sniffing them…)

Marshall woke me up at 4:45 AM the other day before he left for work. I asked him how to make my Mint Condition less sugary. I’ve never bought a Mint Condition. I must have been dreaming about one, apparently. He said, you could order a hot chocolate with a shot of mint. So no coffee would be involved. I was so happy! I did my morning hug and kiss good-bye (always groggy, and usually with my arms half bent under the blankets) and promptly fell asleep again.

I’ve had two dreams about TeaSource, ever. The more notable one is where tidal waves of berry iced tea approached my homeland.

I guess dreaming about tea and coffee is better than alligators (I and my family had two days to live before the alligators would eat us. The only way to kill them was to take an elfin sword and jab it deep into the mouth. I remember as I stuck the glinting metal between the alligator’s mouth with precision; its tongue was a nice, pleasant color of bubble gum. I thought it was a striking color palette, forest green, silver, bubble gum pink. What I don’t remember is if my loved ones had the same luck as I did).

Oh I completely got off track from why I like my job. Another reason is, the design team is friendly and genuine, and often funny. On Halloween, we had a long discussion on pickle jokes. Eileen had brought in a joke book, one of those cheesy ones my brother would’ve loved when he was eight, and kept popping over to John’s cube to share a couple of them. She’d always, always, follow the punch line with something between a giggle and a cackle. John would groan at the cornyness. This morning, the three of us talked about optometrists for a good half hour. These days are not typical; we all usually eat lunch at our desk, stick to our Macs, exchange brief greetings. But when the days come where someone’s in the mood for a good chat, it can easily draw two, then three more people into the aisle, and I’m sure HR can hear us loud and clear.

(A: Salvador Dilly.)

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joining the ranks.

November 8, 2007

My two sisters blog and I check their pages about, oh, four times a day. I’m always disappointed when nothing new has been posted between my check-ins. That’s healthy, right? I want them to be blog slaves.

So I’m a bit hesitant to share my own musings, in case others want me to be a blog slave. Plus, I often feel like I’m running a marathon that I can never finish and wonder if “adding” something to my life is a good idea. (Although I’m way less busy than lots of people, as I don’t even have kids and I don’t even do stuff like choir, Bible study, host birthday parties, exercise [including marathons], travel-for-work-on-weekends, and biweekly manicures.) Or that blogging will distract me from things like reading good books. Then again, I started LOTR three weeks ago and haven’t sat down to read past the prologue, so I don’t think my scant reading time will be affected too much.

My last blog of sorts was four years ago, while studying abroad in Norwich, England. (I think the Midwest is just as fascinating to write about, although in a more introspective way.) Its domain was cpatchy.diaryland.com, which confused my Norwegian grandpa as muscle memory prompted him to type “dairyland.com.” My parents acquired a cabin on the Dairyland Reservoir a couple years ago, so I guess it’s fitting. I like the sound of dairy better than diary anyway. (Or diarrhea, for that matter.)

I don’t feel quite right as I type, probably due to the fact that I started this blog at work and my blood sugar’s low. The former makes me feel guilty for doing non-work related things and the latter makes me feel like someone other than Christy. So, I’m off to lunch. (Leftover Chinese from the Jasmine Garden! yum! Marsh and I sat down with this delicious stuff last night and attempted to watch Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, which I’ve never seen. Really. Unfortunately the Netflix disc was badly scratched and we had to turn to other things, like making music mixes [me] and playing online computer games [him].)