Milky Way Orgasm

A friend at work wanted some support with her weight loss program, and since I also wanted to rid myself of those last few "baby weight" pounds, I joined her at a Weight Watchers meeting. I figured I would check it out, see if the program was for me and maybe get a little motivation. Oh....I got so much more!

I need to provide you with a little background first. I have never been a girl's girl (my equivalent of a man's man). I have a few select girlfriends, but normally gravitate to socializing with men. I have many male friends, work in a male-centered environment, and generally tend to chat with the men at work over the ladies. In high school I wasn't a cheerleader, did not join the pep squad and ran as fast as I could away from cliquey, gossipy girls. In essence, I am not fully comfortable in an open, women-centered environment. (For those of you wondering: No, I am not a lesbian.)

Attending a weight watchers meeting is definitely an experience. First let me describe the leader. She is overly chatty, bubbly and smiles at inappropriate times. On this particular day she was green. I describe her as green because her skirt was green, her shirt was green, her shoes were green, her earrings and necklace and bracelets were green. Even her nails (fingers and toes) were green. The leader's job is to elicit participation from the group about their weight loss experience. Apparently this leader does her job very well.

First up was a lifetime member. She proceeded to take 15 minutes to tell her story, while motivating, it was given through many tears and sobs. I was uncomfortable. I really didn't know this woman well enough to share her innermost secrets. And I couldn't help but wondering, as a lifetime member does she do this every week? Note to self: come on another night.

Next was a 40-something teacher. About 50 pounds overweight she is halfway through her weight loss program. Trying to be funny she talks about how she weighs naked and has to bend over to see the itty-bitty numbers on the scale. She then asks us to imagine her big butt bending over naked and isn't that funny? Umm....no, it's not. But it does curb my appetite. So far so good.

Finally, there was "the one". You know the one. There's one in every class, every meeting at work and in every group of friends. The one who thinks that everyone wants to hear what they have to say. The one that when the teacher is ready to dismiss the class and asks if there are any questions actually asks a question. She has spoken about 12 times already, chiming in to every question the leader asks and commenting on every story told. I am annoyed. Please be quiet. I don't think I can listen in detail again to how you made stir fry. Lots of people make stir fry. I don't need you to explain it to me....I have a cook book.

As I am deciding that I will definitely not be back to this meeting, "One" starts talking again and proceeds to tell everyone that since she has stopped eating junk she feels so much better and in control. She then described, in detail, how her reward of a Milky Way for reaching a goal caused her to achieve.....

here it comes....


wait for it....


an Orgasm!


I'm sorry...what???

Did I hear you right???

After I finished laughing and diverted the angry stares (apparently you aren't supposed to laugh at people at Weight Watchers...go figure) I apologized. The meeting was over and I went to my car. As uncomfortable as I was....I'll be back next week...and I'll be sure to bring a Milky Way!

Diet Pepsi

Today has been a tough day. Busy and frustrated from incomplete requests and endless follow-up phone calls and emails, I decide to take a little break.

Head to the bathroom, touch up the hair...looks good. Straighten the clothes...good outfit, nice on the ego. Feeling better I grab my ritual afternoon Diet Pepsi and head back to my cube.

Passing J, the office smart-ass (dry humor and a doesn't give a F*ck about anyone attitude), I give him a little "click...click", my hand pointing at him like a gun, and exude a little swagger enjoying the office camaraderie. As I turn the corner to triumphantly return to my desk, I trip over my own foot, ram my shoulder into the cube wall and drop my unopened (thankfully) soda can on my foot.

"Ha..Ha..Ha..Ha..Ha", J laughs. "Nice."

Head down, I feel stupid. I pick up the can and struggle to open it. Pointing it at J, I hope to quell his bravado. Unfortunately, I can't get the damn can open. J backs away and all I end up doing is spewing Diet Pepsi all over the carpet as my boss walks by.

"Here you go," J hands me a napkin taking pity on my clumbsiness.

I look up with my most needy little girl stare that melts the coldest of hearts and say in my most charming voice,"Oh J! I didn't think you cared?"

J just looks at me blankly, "I don't. Ha..Ha..Ha!" and proceeds to walk away shaking his head.

Well, at least I respect his honesty.

The Forgotten Admin

I work as an Executive Assistant.

My primary responsibility is to support one person who, in his defense, did take me to lunch last week.

But, in addition to him, I provide limited support to several other executives.

Today is Administrative Professional's Day.

It's 1:30pm.

The receptionist out front has had flowers and balloons on her desk since 8:30am.

Here is my woe:

If I am dictated to, do I not type?
If vendors arrive unscheduled, do I not order lunch?
When your plans change on a whim, do I not scramble to call the travel agent?
When you are pissed off at a colleague, do I not call them an A-hole?
When you don't want to be disturbed, do I not lie to your wife?

Okay, so poor me, right? I know my job isn't hard....

But would a thank you kill you???

Oh well, Happy Day to Me!

Daycare Commando

RING!

"Good Morning, this is Sherri."

"Mrs. W, this is the daycare. We have an incident report with Charlie."

Instantly I think - what has he done now???

"Charlie was playing when another child pushed him and he hit his head. There is a small red mark but he should be fine."

"Oh, OK." My poor baby.

"Also, Mrs. W, there was another incident where Charlie hit a child with a block. You will have to sign this incident report when you come to pick him up."

I reply to the daycare worker with a laugh, "So he was defending himself, huh?"

"Umm....no", comes the affronted reply. "This happened 35 minutes later."

First thought - way to go kid!!! Defend yourself even if you have to plan it like a tactical maneuver. I picture Charlie in his camo sweats that he loves to wear, hiding behind the lego table, ready to pounce. The unsuspecting offender comes into view. Charlie ever so quietly raises his hand, in it is clutched a wooden block, he springs like a panther, smacking the little bastard across the forehead. A feat of which any parent would be proud.

"But it was the same kid that pushed him, right?"

"No", comes the snobbish reply. "Your son was fighting for a play kitchen set."

"Oh. Ok, thank you." I reply, deflated.

Well, at least it wasn't a doll.

And Your Daughter?

I'm with a friend from work at an undisclosed location (to protect the innocent) when a woman working there asks:

"Oh, are you mother and daughter?"

Okay, granted my friend could maybe pass for 18 or 20, but she is actually 29....I'm only 34!

WHAT....THE....F???

Cube Life

I work in a cube. Not a literal cube, but a cubicle. The bane of office existence.

Cubes are funny things. You have walls but no door. You feel like you have privacy, but actually there are just more opportunities for people to eavesdrop on you.

Today the guy in the next cube has a cold.
He's breathing really heavy.
It bothers me.

I know too many things about too many people. I can actually hear a guy about 30 feet away conducting business. He's in a cube too so I guess he really can't help it.

What bothers me is when someone has an office....
and they use speaker phone....
and don't close the door.
You have a freakin' door. Use it!
I don't have a door...I have door envy.

But I guess a door wouldn't help much since I don't have a ceiling. I think I might put a piece of tape across the opening where my door would be. Then I could define my space. Or maybe a tension rod and a shower curtain. Then I could put up a sign that says, "please knock."

Maybe when people leave my cube I'll start asking them to close the door. That might be funny...or they might call HR and schedule me a psych appointment.

"Close the door."

"What?"

"The door....you left it open. I need my privacy."

"Ummm....okay, Sherri."

Yeah...that might not be a good idea.

Bits of Charlie

Charlie (age 3) never ceases to entertain me. Hopefully the following will entertain you too.
______________________

While at Arby's Charlie decided he wanted to say hello to the 90+ year old lady sitting alone at the table across from us.

"What's her name?"

"I don't know, why don't you ask her."

"What's your name?.....WHAT'S YOUR NAME?"

"Charlie, stand up and walk over to her."

Walking across to the lady's table, "What's your name?"

The little old lady holds out her arm to touch Charlie's arm. He thinks she's trying to hug him. He goes in for the hug and ends up cradling her large, pendulous left breast with his hand. I just smile shyly and shrug to the woman's approaching daughter as she brings their food, "Kids."

Charlie walks back with a big smile, "I like her, Mom. She's nice."

Squirrels Need Happy Hour Too!

Your Private Island...

During a friendly (alcohol heavy) get-together this past weekend we got on the topic of private islands. You know...you're stranded on an island and you get to bring 5 celebrities with you. Who would you bring?

The guys predominately went with Faith Hill, Ashley Judd and Jennifer Aniston. I can't remember who else they picked...by that time I had already ingested many beers.

I got as far as picking:

1. The guy who played phantom of the opera in the recent movie (don't know his name- but very nice!)
2. Russell Crowe (but only as the character Maximus from Gladiator)
3. Will Farrell (purely for laughs)
4. Emeril (I need someone to cook for me!)
5. One of the queer eye guys to do my hair and make me look fabulous!

So anyway, only two to lust after....the rest were purely for survival.

So...who's on your island?

Can you control your destiny with a spoon?

I was running around the house a few days ago, trying to clean what the kids quickly destroy, when I heard part of a television commercial. I think it was for some diet program.

It said, "Can you control your destiny with a spoon?"

What the F...?

Okay, so they were talking about dieting, but what really hit me was the idea of how little it takes to change our lives....the choices we make and the controls we put on ourselves. I found the thought of controlling my own personal destiny with a spoon intriguing. Of course, I don't want this post to be a diet rant because that is one topic I truly don't have the energy to tackle...so, I will talk about control and happiness.

I wonder if any of you out there feel like you control your lives. At times I do not. There is so much involved in the "daily routine"....shower, get dressed, kids up, drop off at school, work, pick up kids, long commute, dinner, baths, prep for next day, bed. Okay....which part do I control? Sometimes it feels like my life is it's own entity that is quickly running out of control and I am just along for the ride. It took me awhile, but I think I know what is missing....

Living in the moment.

Sounds simple, right? I realized that through my daily routine I was always focused on the next task. What's next on the list? How much more until I can be done? I realized that I had forgotten to live in the moment. I wasn't enjoying cooking and savoring dinner...I missed out on the fun of playing with my kids while they were in the tub...I was just focused on the finish line. I guess that is a lot like life in general. We are so focused on where we want to be that we forget to enjoy where we are.

So, how does that relate to control? I guess if I can't control what is happening at least I can control my reaction to it and how I experience it. I have decided to have more control in my life by being present for each and every moment.

So here I am...this moment, typing this post. My feet are cold. Other than that, things are great. Hope your moment while reading this is great too (minus the cold feet!).

Take care and hope to hear from you soon.

Where'd you come up with that name?

I am sure the first question I will get from friends and family is where did you come up with the name "View From A Minivan?" I initially was going to call this "Sherri's Blog" but that was way too boring. I spent most of last night trying to think of something catchy that would really reflect who I am and my perspective on life. There it was....my perspective was as a working mom who drives a minivan.

Now a lot of people drive minivans...and there's nothing wrong with that. But when you identify with the car you drive and you feel that it is an extension of your personality and the essence of who you are...well, that's another matter.

Let me digress...

My first vehicle was a 1976 AMC Gremlin. You know the one's with the Levi's upholstry? The seats even had the little orange tag. I was 12. I was allowed to drive the car to the bus stop that was 5 miles up a winding country road. (Yes, my parents were crazy). To me the car symbolized freedom. In hidsight it symbolized immaturity - my lack of driving skills, my emotional immaturity in thinking it was a "cool" car, and probably the fact that the car was so ugly it looked like a fetus of a car that hadn't finished growing.

By high school I moved on to a 1980 Buick Riviera. Black with a moonroof...so cool. Then it was the 1980 Datsun 280ZX....Black and really cool. These cars symbolized a period of growth from a child to a young adult. New experiences, driving too fast and well, taking chances.

I went through a few other phases....the truck phase, the turbo stick-shift phase and then....

THE MUSTANG.....

1991 Ford Mustang GT, 5.0, 5-speed with a sunroof. How I loved that car. It was fast and hot. I was in college, living alone and bartending. It personified who I was (well, maybe not the fast part....ok, maybe a litte) Anyway, when I was in that car I felt confident and strong. I loved to drive it and be seen in it.

As the years went by I graduated from college, met a guy, and got engaged. The mustang turned into a VW Passat (show my maturity), then a Mazda 626 (gas conscious and frugal), a Jeep Grand Cherokee (now that we're married and expecting we need more room for the baby - self-sacrificing), then.....

I wanted a Chevy Tahoe. It was roomy, big enough for the 2nd child, expensive and got bad gas mileage. My common sense won out (along with my lacking pocketbook) and I got a Dodge Caravan. As I was driving it a week later, I noticed a young, cute guy at a stoplight looking at me. I thought "he thinks I'm hot"....then I realized....No he doesn't....I'm driving a minivan!

So now I am a 34-year-old, mother of two who drives a minivan. It symbolizes safety, security, dedication and maturity......funny, I still feel like the 12-year-old with the fetus car.

Greetings All!

First, let me welcome you all to my blog. I will try to keep this as entertaining as possible, although I will admit that I am unsure what qualifies. My intent is to give you an inside peek at my life and the general day-to-day goings-on (is that even a word?). Anyway, I must say that I find my life hysterical, even though that may be viewed as a defense-mechanism. I suppose a dry sense of humor may be required to enjoy the full effect of my wit (or lack thereof).

I hope you will visit often and share your thoughts with me.