The Shallow End

The Sky is Falling!

Labels: Insanity

posted by Gwynne @ 11:09 AM 4 comments

The Pink Elephant

This is the post I feel I have to write before I can go on. It's as if to ignore the huge pink elephant in the room, I am somehow lying. It's as if I can't blog at all unless people know what is really going on in my life because without a proper dramatic backdrop, the trite and trivial stuff that I would rather comment about is just buzzing in my ears, and it gets annoying even to me. It's a variation on the "without the bad, we can't appreciate the good" cliche, only here, I would replace "good" with "little things."

Part of what holds me back, aside from my most introverted nature and the fact that I don't really have the time, is the fact that what I perceive as "bad" or troublesome pales in comparison to the pain and suffering of others in the world. I really try to keep things in their proper perspective, but that said, this past year has been especially painful and troublesome for me and this is my journal, not the Hitchhiker's Guide to the whole entire Galaxy, for Pete's sake.

So here's the bad, from my little corner of the world...starting with the good...

Most people in my world now know that I have a little grandson, named Julian. He just turned 9 months old but was born 10 weeks early, so he's not even crawling yet (his Auntie was racing around our apartment on her hands and feet at this age, and running around the entire park at 12 months)! I love him dearly! I can honestly say, I think I love him more than any other person on earth! I've never known the strength of the parent-child love relationship like I know it with Julian (C.S. Lewis wrote a brilliant little book on this, along with the three other kinds of love, in a book entitled...wait for it...The Four Loves). While I have known and helped raise my two step-daughters since they were 6 months and two years old, we didn't have custody of them until they were 4 and 5, after the most important formative, bonding years were over (in my opinion). Not that I didn't love them and raise them as my own from that point forward, but I never felt like this before. Their biological mother was still a big part of their lives even though she was a severe alcoholic. I still deferred to her role as their mother and tried not to poison them (not always successfully, I might add...I'm not looking for any Mother-of-The-Year nominations here!) Maybe because of that, I never felt fully in control of their lives (ahem, I do know who's really at the Helm), and my controlling nature tends to let go of things if I cannot control them. All I'm saying is that, while I have helped raise two bright beautiful girls (more about one of them in a minute), I've never felt the love I feel for Julian. And that is such a true blessing that I feel guilty about the fact that I am so emotionally bankrupt right now.

And now, for the bad...

When our oldest turned 18 (actually two weeks after she turned 18, even though I showed her the door on her 18th birthday since she'd been talking about this moment since she was like 12), she moved out to experience all of the freedom she expected to find in the real world. Of course, what she found in reality was that freedom comes with responsibility and that without behaving responsibly, one can lose the freedom she craves very quickly. And she did. She must have gone to jail 5 or 6 times in the course of a year, all for misdemeanor infractions ranging from unpaid parking tickets to shoplifting.* After her second time, we quit getting the crying "please come bail me out" phone calls because we refused to bail her out. Instead, she became well acquainted with a particular bail bondsman who became one of her best friends. We would always breathe a sigh of relief when we did get those calls because at least, we knew where she was and that she was alive. Amazingly, she did not get caught or go to jail for the more serious crimes that she committed while running with a dangerous crowd of drug dealers and car thiefs (oh yeah, one of the cars stolen was mine, since I let her drive it on the night she left and decided not to come home...the police were no help when I admitted that yes, I had given her the key but not permission to take my car indefinitely).

*I should mention that this is no small issue in my eyes given that nobody in my family has ever gone to jail for anything except the 4 hours my husband spent doing time for picking up mussels on the beach without a license, which is a funny post for another time. It's not like Jerry Springer around here.

When she learned she was pregnant, she was living with her fiance at the time. She called us up and wanted us to meet him. They came over and fixed us dinner. We thought that, all things considered, he seemed like a nice guy...until we learned that he too, was a drug dealer, and packing heat at our house (notice the jacket? He never took it off)! We later learned that he also trafficked in fake payroll checks among any number of other unknown "trades" and was doing very well financially. He was also in this country illegally. And while he may be Julian's biological father (he's not on the birth certificate and no paternity tests have been taken since he is nowhere to be found...we hope he is either in prison or back in his home country), he has had no contact with our daughter or Julian since she was about 2 months pregnant. At that time, they broke up, and our daughter asked if she could move back home. We saw this as an opportunity for her to clean up her life and get off of the destructive path she was on, so we ultimately agreed, with a lot of conditions. And basically that is what she did until Julian was born.

During the months she was living with us, we tried counseling her about placing her baby for adoption. We knew she was not ready to be a mother and abortion was not an option (despite her careless and unscrupulous lifestyle, she feels strongly about abortion, so I give her some credit). And despite her adamant resistance, we continued to hold out hope that time would change her mind and we thought we had plenty of that. Until Father's Day, when, 10 weeks early, Julian decided to enter the world before anything could change her mind.

Fast forward, through 6 weeks in the NICU, bringing home a 5 pound preemie (still a full month earlier than his gestational birthday), many sleepless nights, difficulties bonding with a baby that interfered with her "freedom," lots of babysitting on our end while she got her first real job in over a year and a half, working evenings as a waitress (we were thrilled that she was on the right track even if this meant more babysitting for us...it helped relieve some of her stress which made her easier to live with and frankly, we relished the alone time with Julian). Eventually though, exhaustion, depression and temptation got the better of her. Hanging out with friends at work after hours lead first to late nights, then to all nights, then to several all nights in a row of partying while we sat home with Julian wondering where (in the HELL?!) is his mother and what does she think she's doing and why won't she even answer her phone, let alone call to let us know where she is?!?! Well, you get the picture. Basically, we freaked out, bought some home test kits for her drug of choice, methamphetamine, and sure enough, she was using again. Initially, we insisted that if she wanted to continue living in our house, she had to stop using and get into a recovery program. She did that, but prior to our Christmas vacation, she dropped out of ithe program. We tested her again before we left and sure enough, she was still using. The withdrawals made her a bear to travel with! We went on vacation anyway and had serious reservations about leaving her with Julian alone in the care of other family members (namely her mother who is at least now a recovering alcoholic and knows about her daughter's "issue" and was prepared to intervene if problems arose). Still, we worried, but then, a miracle happened...Julian got sick with brochiolitis and had to be hospitalized. Our daughter's motherly instincts kicked up a notch and she actually remained clean throughout the vacation and things were good until just before Valentine's Day. We began to have hope that maybe she was really committed to a life of change and we talked to her about resuming the recovery program "just in case." She thought she could do it on her own.

When the inevitable relapse happened again, this time we kicked her out (she was already out...we simply told her that she wasn't welcome back into our house until she checked into a fulltime in-patient program and committed to a long-term treatment program following that. Truly committed. At that time, thank God, Julian was already in our care, so we didn't have to wonder and worry about where he was while she was out "partying." Our biggest fear has always been that she might "run" with him although honestly, she sees him as a noose around her neck and would love it if we would take him off her hands. Our second biggest fear is that Julian might become a pawn in her hands, a way to get what she wants when she needs it (welfare assistance, for example), a thing to call her own, something to fight for, but not someone to love and nurture and care for like he deserves. I didn't want this to be a case of history repeating itself, much like her own mother who fought for custody of two girls that she later admitted she had no business raising in her condition.

At first, we had some hope that she would check into a program and make the right decision. That was foolish on our part. Since we kicked her out, we have received two phone calls, each time she claimed to be in a program (we confirmed with her employer that she had requested a leave of absence, but we couldn't confirm anything with the facility). And both times, her cell phone log betrayed her. It appears that she may have checked in twice, judging by the lack of calls for a few days at a time, but it also appears she checked out, judging by the round-the-clock phone calls following the "quiet" days. But none of those phone calls were to us and none of our phone calls to her were answered. I can't tell you how utterly angry, hateful, frustrated, disappointed, and terribly sad this makes me.

Yesterday morning, before my husband went to work, she showed up at our door crying, for the first time in over a month. She claimed that she missed her son (whom she hadn't even asked about for over a month), but she went first to her room to gather up some things. I jumped out of bed when I heard her talking and ran to Julian's room like a mother bear protecting her cub. I begged my husband to stay home until she left (we both agreed she could not stay) because I couldn't trust her with him and he couldn't trust me with her! When she finally asked to hold Julian (he woke up during the commotion and I was holding him), I hesitated at first, but with my husband as back-up, I handed him over and pleaded with her not to cry and upset him. She cried anyway, and then he cooed and smiled and giggled at her, making all of us cry. I really thought after that, that our offers to drive her straight back to the rehab facility might be accepted, but instead, she asked to be dropped off at the Quik Trip in her old stomping grounds.

At this point, I hold no hope for her recovery. She has been given more chances than many and yet, if she were a drowning victim in the high seas, she refuses to grab the rope. Now, our only focus is on finalizing the paperwork and proceedings to become Julian's legal guardians (a process we temporarily put on hold over the holidays and then some, while the situation appeared to improve) and to provide him the best we have to offer.

All that to say, I really need your help. Julian is not the problem. Our daughter is not even the problem. The fact that I am still working part-time when I'd like nothing better than to stay home with him full-time is not the problem. The fact that as of April 15th, I'll be able to stay with him full-time but then won' t be making any money is not the problem. All of those are worries that can and do cause me to cry, but the real problem is the resentment and anger and something that borders on hatred that I feel towards her right now. I don't want this to affect my relationship with Julian and I don't want it to affect his life anymore than the issues surrounding his mother and father already will. I know some might say that placing him for adoption would be the best choice, to remove him from the situation completely, but I assure you, there is no place in our hearts to do that. I need your experiences, expertise, prayers, wisdom, guidance, whatever you can offer. My problems may be few but they run deep and most of them stem from my fierce stubborness and self-reliant independence. For me to move on right now, I really need help with forgiveness. I know, intellectually, that this is what I need to do, but emotionally, I'm on a very slippery slope...

Labels: Baby Spartacus, Family, Insanity

posted by Gwynne @ 12:05 PM 13 comments

Jumping Into The Deep End, An Instruction Manual

Instructions for going off the Deep End, in 8 easy steps:

1) Invest your life savings in a boat (granted, it may not drop in value quite as fast as the stock market but it is not going to appreciate no matter how hard you try)
2) Quit your job at a time of impending economic doom (but then stick around much longer than you planned, feeling more like a prisoner than someone in command of her future)
3) Welcome your pregnant teenage daughter back into the home so that she might get her feet under her (instead of dangling from the moon, if you know what I mean)
4) Welcome new baby into the home while teenage daughter is still struggling to find her place in the world and not at all ready to be a parent (where is the maternity leave policy for grandparents anyway?), spend as much time as possible at the hospital with said baby tending to unknown ailments and trying out various medications for gas, reflux, and constipation (oh, and crying!).
5) Encourage teenage daughter to get a job, for her sanity and yours, even if that means a lot of babysitting
6) Volunteer on several boards that suck any remaining time out of your schedule
7) Care for several sick animals in the home, and then, when one of them dies...the final straw:

8) BRING HOME A PUPPY!!!!! *


* No, I did not bring home the puppy. That would be the teen mother who brought home the puppy, because you know, she felt bad for us losing Cocoa and what better way to soothe us than introduce yet another creature that requires much attention, love and nurturing. Arghhhhhhh! I'm afraid I lost my cool. As much love as may have been intended here, I'm afraid I yelled and screamed about never ever giving someone a pet as a surprise gift, and how this was the equivalent of handing over a baby to someone who isn't ready to take care of it. I was nasty and ugly and I feel badly about that, but eventually, the puppy (a beagle...a very cute little 8-week old beagle, but still...) went back to its original home. Whew. That was a close call.

Labels: Baby Spartacus, Insanity, The Animals

posted by Gwynne @ 10:21 AM 7 comments

Extreme Makeover

What? I'm on my lunch hour, at Starbucks, catching up. Here, from Lynellen's blog, is my extreme makeover. Knowing that there's not much to be done for my current look, I decided to see what I would have looked like as a child beauty pagent contestant. Still, not seeing it. This is just proof that it's best not to put makeup on little girls. It's the stuff of nightmares. But still, it's a fun little tool. Go ahead, give it a try. When I have more time, I might actually give this a serious workover.

Labels: Fellow Bloggers, Insanity, Project 52 (Weekly Random Photos of Life)

posted by Gwynne @ 12:36 PM 2 comments

Random Thuursday

Because I had nothing substantive to say yesterday, I've made note of a few random thoughts from the drive in to work...

LOST, the television phenomenon that has swept the nation (without me!) - I have finally succumbed to the teevee. Well, I watched the special "Looking Glass" episode of LOST anyway, and I loved the snarky subtitles! And thank heavens for the DVR so I could back-track every time I looked away and missed a critical element in the Cliff Notes. This was a very clever way to catch up the Neanderthals (me) who managed to miss last season (and all seasons leading up to that one). So will this season take place off the island? I'm not sure I'll stick with it, but I have set the DVR to record tonight's episode should I choose to watch it. We'll see. If there are no subtitles, it will probably lose me pretty quickly.

Britney in the news - again - gasp! This girl has enough problems without the 24/7 spotlight hysteria from the media. I'd go stark raving mad also if that was my life! Brit Brit needs to hole up in a bunker someplace and not come out for a few years. Poor girl. I'm afraid she's not long for this world. Poor kids. They are the real losers in all of this.

Election Predictions - Two days ago, I was all ready to call my prediction for a "Nick-Osama" race. But following the Florida primary, I'm now predicting a McCain - Clinton race. Not nearly as exciting, in my opinion. And while Jen claims to be bound by the Heath Act, unable to voice her opinion, I will share mine...I don't think Clinton has a chance against McCain who has gathered a lot of support from across the aisle. He may not be a true-blood Conservative, but if what we're really afraid of is another Clinton administration, I don't think we will have to face that horror. Republicans will band together and vote for anyone who is not Clinton. And Democrats/Independents will be split between the two. So I'm predicting a McCain win in the end. Not that this is who I am voting for in the primaries, mind you, just my prediction, for what that's worth.

Fox News XM Radio ads - too much Viagra! My. Word. Every other commercial is for some form of "male enhancement" or "performance" drug. I've stopped listening to Fox News. It's all blues, all the time, from now on. Exit 74 on your XM dial. Good stuff!


Study shows that all blue-eyed people are related - oh, really? I suppose some government grant money funded this study also. Another reason why I no longer need Fox News in my life. This is what news has boiled down to. Well, this, and all Brit, all the time. It seems that about 10,000 years ago, some mutation took place in the human species resulting in the loss of pigment in the brown eyes which caused them to appear blue instead. And ever since, the recessive blue eyes have been passed down through generations leading researchers to claim that all blue-eyed people are related. Am I missing something here? Because if we push back a few more years, aren't we also saying that we all descended from the original brown eyed folks, possibly the two found sharing an apple in the Garden? And doesn't this make all people related? Not surprising I guess is that the study arose in Germany where, if my history serves me well, it was also once claimed that the Aryan blond-haired, blue-eyed race was superior.

Labels: Insanity, The Absurd

posted by Gwynne @ 9:16 AM 3 comments

The Phone Survey

Today, I was interviewed by the Taxpayer Advocate Service (a division of the IRS that exists to help taxpayers resolve their problems with the IRS...this is your tax money at work...rather than fix the agency that is broken, create another agency inside of the broken agency to fix the problems of the broken one...job security).

Yesterday, I received a call at work much like the calls we get during dinner time ("supper" for those of you in the South) at home. After the introductory remarks, I said that no, I didn't have 5 minutes to take the survey. When asked if they could call back, I said "yes, tomorrow at 1:30." Why?! Why did I think that I would feel like taking a survey today at 1:30? I don't know. But a different interviewer called back...at 1:30, today. So I took the survey.

Every single question included the phrase "Taxpayer Advocate Service employee that you last spoke to," at least once. And was often followed by "not any other Taxpayer Advocate Service experiences you may have had." When I am at work, I have a particular hatred for the phone and all of its interuptive powers. And taking longer than 5 minutes to phrase each question is one reason for the hatred. But I listened and answered each of the questions. The entire "5-minute survey" took about 30 minutes.

Mostly, the questions or statements were posed and then the interviewer would tell me to answer "1 if I strongly agreed, 2 if I agreed, 3 if I neither agreed nor disagreed, 4 if I disagreed, or 5 if I strongly disagreed" (and he gave me these options after each. and. every. question.). Sometimes, I interrupted with my answer before he finished giving all of the options, hoping to speed up the process, but like a good test taker, I mostly waited for him to finish with all of my choices before picking the "correct" answer. Like he might change up the choices at any moment, without warning. Like it mattered, my answers. Like this survey will result in the IRS doing anything any differently than they have done for decades.

He concluded the survey with an open-ended question, "what would you have liked for the Taxpayer Advocate Service employee that you last spoke to to do differently?" My answer, "I would have liked her to return my phone calls more promptly" took a full 5 minutes in itself for the interviewer to type up, and he recited it back to me as he typed. I swear, he was not only typing with one finger, hunting and pecking around the keyboard, but also eating lunch at the same time. Then, he asked if there was anything else I would like to see improved. Um. No. No, thank you. I did not have that much time to expand on my already "lengthy" response.

And then, the Grand Finale question from the Taxpayer Advocate Service office was, "How was the sound quality of this phone call today? 1 if it was Very Good, 2 if it was Good, 3 if it was neither good nor bad, 4 if it was bad, or 5 if it was very bad." The sound quality? Okay, that's a joke, right? Actually, I had to hold the receiver a few inches from my ear the whole interview because it was so loud. I thought I must be on Candid Camera. But rather than perpetuate the discussion about sound quality or any of the other qualities of this interview that annoyed me, I just said "3" and hung up.

Now, I've extended the 30 minute "5-minute' Interview into a 30 minute sequel by writing all about it. But I feel better having gotten it off my chest.

Labels: An Accountant's Life, Insanity

posted by Gwynne @ 8:18 PM 2 comments

Word Play

I recently purchased the scintillating, action-packed video game of...wait for it...

Scrabble! Woot!!

(Merriam Webster's word of the Year, wOOt!, is not in the Scrabble dictionary by the way)

Who invented the Scrabble dictionary anyway? The Scrabble people? How is that really fair play? I insist on playing with a real dictionary. Which is why, now, I play alone.

After exhausting my trial 60 minutes worth, I had difficulty purchasing the game which was unavailable for a spell. Finally (after accidentally installing it on Dad's computer while trying to show him how it wasn't available), I managed to download it on my own.

Which leads me to this...

Since when is "Qat" a word? It means "kat," according to the Scrabble people...which means what, exactly? "Cat" perhaps? Sheesh. Where's the "U"? Isn't there some rule about that? What has happened to everything I learned in kindergarten?

And "Biz" (plural = "bizzes," I kid you not!) This means "business" for the undereducated.

And "Qi"? Qi, if you are wondering, is the "vital force that in Chinese thought is inherent in all things" Ah yes, the ubiquitous qi. I guess "qi" is fair if "Tao" is a word (it is). But "Te" is not. What would Piglet say?

"Hyp," meaning hypochondria? Who decides which abbreviations get into this dictionary? "Hyp" is in, but "ADHD" is out. "Ed" (education) is in, but "org" (organization) is out.

Which brings me to the real source of angst this evening. "Jews" is not a word, according to the Gentile Scrabble people. And that's important because if it was, I would have won 66 points for playing it on a double letter/triple word box! Sheesh.

See what I mean? I can't even play alone, without getting into a fight.

Labels: Insanity

posted by Gwynne @ 11:32 PM 2 comments

Ugh!

I just learned of a big work related screw-up yesterday. Even though I wasn't the one who made the mistake, I was the one responsible for catching it. Sorry I can't elaborate more (not that the story gets any better than that) but for privacy reasons, "screw-up" will just have to suffice, and "big" meaning millions of dollars. *cringe* I am trying to console myself with the words "it's only a timing difference." And I'm steering clear of sharp objects. I slept very badly last night and woke up with a stomach ache and a headache...this feels like the final knock-down punch in a boxing match. I am knocked down, deflated and depressed.

So, to console myself, I went into the Quik Trip on the drive between meetings this morning and filled up on bad coffee (with syrupy cinnamon-hazlenut "Delight") and a couple of those monster taquito things that sit on the roller thingies under a heat lamp until they turn into rocks and (AND!) a package of Hostess Donettes (coconut crumb style). And so, now, the stomach ache, it is real bad!! Ugh!!!

Labels: An Accountant's Life, Insanity, Toil and trouble

posted by Gwynne @ 2:13 PM 10 comments

What Time Is It?

Because I would like for my readers to know what an idiot I really am, I offer up this.

Two nights ago, I was out shopping for some gifts I had to buy for a few departing board members/officers of a group I am involved with (I mean, a group with which I am involved...or something like that...Brian?). Anyway, while I waited for them to do the engraving, I perused the store and happened upon the watch department. Now, I was not really needing a new watch. My $35 Winnie The Pooh Timex watch still works just fine. But I thought it might be nice to buy a "dressier" watch, for those occasions when I'd like to "dress up." Not that I haven't worn Winnie The Pooh on many a "dressy" occasion, but I needed an excuse to buy something, I guess is what I'm saying.

But here's the idiot part. Today, someone asked me what time it was and I looked at my watch for the first time (and no, I'm not dressed up, but yes, I've been wearing the watch ever since I bought it). "Um, 4:30? No, probably not." (it was 10:30 by the clock on my computer) Which means that I have been wearing my watch for nearly 48 hours and had yet to actually "use" it. Had not even set the watch yet.

See what I'm saying?

Labels: Insanity

posted by Gwynne @ 12:24 PM 6 comments

A Mini Train Wreck

Update: For those who wish to skip the rant and move straight to the dog update, I have moved the update to the top of this report:

Smokey update: Smokey is hopped up on steroids and doing much, much better. We are weaning him off of the Prednizone slowly and hope his condition continues to improve even in the absence of carcinogenic ulcer inducing medications.

Rant: I just had my first melt down of the season. Probably not my last.

A client called today, to ask why they just received a big package full of envelopes. Inside were all of their tax returns, with checks that they wrote yesterday, when they were in my office. Trying to be helpful, I offered to mail them from our office so they wouldn't have to stand in line at the post office. Oh, and they asked me to hold them until Monday so they could move money around to cover the checks. Very well, I said. We'll take care of it. Little did I know just how incompetent we are when it comes to routine tasks.

I gave a stack of "naked" white envelopes, addressed to various government agencies to my assistant, and asked her to mail them certified ("because these are tax returns with big checks inside" or something to that effect) and do this on Monday, per client request. I gave her the client's number to charge the postage to (because we're cheap like that).

Imagine my horror when the client called and asked why the returns were mailed to them instead of the Government. And why didn't we wait until Monday to mail them, like he asked? *gulp*

So then, I looked on my assistant's desk for another stack of tax returns I had asked her to mail for a different client (same thing, also for Monday mailing), and on her desk was a copy of the certified receipt showing the client address instead of the government agencies. Only this client lives in Virginia(!) and is out of the country!!

Thankfully, a different assistant was here today and she was able to retrieve the local package by courier from the client and the certified mailing to VA by making a hasty run to the USPS Distribution Center (otherwise, I would have had to ask Jen or Beth to go by the client's home in the DC area to pick it up and get it postmarked by Tuesday ;-).

Now, I know there is one more package out there. The client hasn't yet received it (because it was mailed regular mail...let's hope it gets there before the deadline so we can retrieve it as well). At least there are not large checks in this one, but it is yet another smoldering ember just waiting to ignite. *sigh*

I am very grateful for the assistant's persistence in tracking down the VA package today, and I realize this could have turned out much worse, so I'm at least thankful for that. And I'm glad the assistant responsible for the mistake wasn't here today to take the brunt of my frustration. For the little things, we must be grateful. Having patience is very difficult at this time of year!

Onward...only 3 and a half more days!

Labels: An Accountant's Life, Insanity

posted by Gwynne @ 3:32 PM 6 comments

The Light is Closer Than it Appears

I can see light at the end of the tunnel. I just hope it's not this train. And yet another tax season will come to a close (on Tuesday this year...don't forget to celebrate Emancipation Day...your federal guvment will be closed for the day).

We will likely emerge in one piece, God willing. Battered and bruised, battle worn, but survivors nonetheless. It's funny to hear the comments of insiders who have just completed their first tax season..."they warned me that I'd be very busy, but I never could have imagined this...it's insane!" Yes, it is.

Tomorrow is KICKBALL! And maybe snow! Brrr.

Labels: An Accountant's Life, Insanity

posted by Gwynne @ 9:33 PM 3 comments

Accounting and Dogs, Revisited

Like I mentioned the other day, I don't make many house calls, but there are a few clients, most of them elderly, for whom this makes a lot more sense than endangering the lives of many by asking them to drive in to the office. I also facetiously said that my business cards say "Will work for food and shelter..." As I see it, that's not far from the truth. I seem to be on a roll with the dogs lately.

Today's timesheet included one half hour (at the "God must really be laughing now billing rate" of $295/hour...not that I get paid that much you realize, it all goes toward the greater cause) for "walking the dog." Another quarter of an hour for "hanging picture on wall." I so wish I were joking. And if the client weren't such a hefty pain in the rear, I might have let it go for free. But not today. The dog and I enjoyed a nice walk. :-)

Labels: An Accountant's Life, Insanity

posted by Gwynne @ 8:23 PM 4 comments

Insanity - Revisited, or Near-Death (by Chihuahua)

Yesterday, I was bitten by Paco, a black and white chihuahua (this will no doubt please Jimmy to no end). I've never been bitten by a dog before. This just threw fuel on the already burning train wreck in my soul. Paco and I had never met before. I was trespassing on his territory while visiting a new client to pick up some tax information. I don't normally make house calls but I was in the neighborhood (having just visited another client where a "numeric colonoscopy" was in progress...thanks, Darko), and this guy complained about the long drive to my office so I thought I'd save him the trip, good citizen that I am. After an excruciating hour and a half of going through every bloody detail of the year's transactions, in a notebook containing all transactions since 1981, on a desk covered in a thousand post-it notes and pens and pencils lined up like military soldiers,

Quick side story about the pencils...

While this 70-something, recently widowed, obsessive-compulsive, gentleman was explaining the minutia of his financial transactions, he stopped for a minute to find just the right pencil, "where's my damn Eversharp?" were his exact words. When he found it, he carefully added a decimal to a number on one of his ledger papers (a paper that honestly, I will not use or refer to at all in the preparation of his tax returns, and the decimal was at the end of the number to show that there were no cents). I was literally wondering if it was possible to faint from boredom (we conducted our entire meeting standing up, by the way).

<*/end side story>

...I leaned over to pet Paco and he snarled and snapped my finger clean off. Okay, that's a slight exaggeration, but my shriek surely made Mr. B believe that is what happened. Mostly, he just bruised my fragile state of being. Stupid chihuahua.

Oh, but I almost forgot the real reason for this post. Insanity. Revisited. One year ago today, I was in a similar foggy state when I decided to start blogging. Because, you know, I didn't have enough to do and decided this would be a good way to kill time, or relieve stress, or something. Clearly a sign that I was deranged. But I shant let the day go unmarked. It's my ONE YEAR BLOGIVERSARY!! Whew. Sure glad I didn't miss that.

Speaking of anniversaries, and in answer to one of Darko's questions, this is my Silver Anniversary as far as "tax seasons" go. This will be my 25th year. And in answer to his other question, I think I've had my fill, thank you. I'm ready to do something else. Here are my options:

1. Work in a factory assembling auto parts or stuffing envelopes
2. Work as a greeter at Walmart
3. Sell fresh flowers from a cart on a street corner
4. Set up a woodturning/silversmithing studio with my Dad and become a jeweler
5. Take painting lessons and become an artist
6. Work in my husband's commercial painting business (although I might be more of a liability than an asset)
7. Go to work for a private company in search of the elusive 40-hour work week
8. Sell everything, buy a sailboat and an RV and live out the rest of my life as a gypsy

And finally, Darko also asks, do I know who is the Patron Saint of Accountants? Why yes. Yes, I do. But I do not have a signed picture of Saint Matthew in my office anywhere. Or a garden gnome for that matter. Which is probably at the root of my problems.

Oh, and Darko, bookkeeping is too accounting. It is the most fundamental part of accounting, and yet, it is one of the reasons I've been so frustrated lately, because so many of the problems I've had to help with internally were basic bookkeeping problems that should not have been so problematic for a bunch of accountants. Sheesh.

Labels: An Accountant's Life, Insanity, Near-Death Experiences

posted by Gwynne @ 5:10 AM 11 comments

Insanity - An Update

I've just done the accountant's equivalent of smearing my peas around my plate. In a futile attempt at disguising my workload from myself, I have taken the several large (and growing) piles and moved them into many, many small piles around my office. I don't feel any closer to done. It just feels more manageable. I can see what is where and prioritize accordingly. I'm afraid I have finally arrived at that particular time of year when all I want to do is cry, or quit, or shoot somebody. One more request for one more thing, or one more question about something I think you should be able to do without my help, and I'm liable to go off the deep end. Which would be a blessing really. Bring in the white coat with the long, long sleeves. This is sheer lunacy. I wish I could more adequately describe for you just how insane "tax season" is, but really, nobody wants or needs to know.

Labels: An Accountant's Life, Insanity

posted by Gwynne @ 5:23 PM 5 comments

19 Ways To Maintain A Healthy Level of Insanity

You all may have seen this already, but Foo's reference to the list of ways to annoy your coworker reminded me of this, which I still think is hysterical. From the e-mail box:

1. At Lunch Time, Sit In Your Parked Car With
Sunglasses on and point your Hair Dryer At Passing
Cars. See If They Slow Down.

2. Page Yourself Over The Intercom. Don't Disguise
Your Voice.

3. Every Time Someone Asks You To Do Something, Ask
If They Want Fries with that.

4. Put Your Garbage Can On Your Desk And Label "In."

5. Put Decaf In The Coffee Maker For 3 Weeks. Once
Everyone has Gotten over Their Caffeine Addictions,
Switch To Espresso.

6. In The Memo Field Of All Your Checks, Write "For
Smuggling Diamonds."

7. Finish All Your sentences with "In Accordance With
The Prophecy."

8. Don't use any punctuation

9. As Often As Possible, Skip Rather Than Walk.

10. With a serious face, order a diet water whenever
you go out to eat.

11. Specify That Your Drive-through Order Is "To Go."

12. Sing Along At The Opera.

13. Go To A Poetry Recital And Ask Why The Poems
Don't Rhyme

14. Put Mosquito Netting Around Your Work Area And
Play Tropical Sounds All Day.

15. Five Days In Advance, Tell Your Friends You Can't
Attend Their Party Because You're Not In The Mood.

16. Have Your Co-workers Address You By Your Wrestling
Name, Rock Bottom.

17. When The Money Comes Out The ATM, Scream "I Won!,
I Won!"

18. When Leaving The Zoo, Start Running Towards The
Parking lot, yelling "Run For Your Lives, They're
Loose!!"

19. Tell Your Children Over Dinner. "Due To The
Economy, We Are Going To Have To Let One Of You Go."

20. If there were 20 ways, the post title would have been "20 Ways ..."

Labels: Insanity, Quizzes and Memes

posted by Gwynne @ 6:39 PM 7 comments

Accounting Triage

I hate to leave another "Near Death" post up for the duration of "tax season" although it does speak to my current state of being. For those who do not want to listen to my whining, leave the room now.

We are now in what I affectionately call "Triage" mode. If your issues are not life-threatening (really, when is this ever true of accounting issues?), do not call me or stop by my office! Period. [slams door shut and proceeds to blog...what's wrong with this picture?!] I've had more phone calls today from clients whose matters have nothing, nothing, to do with their tax return. They have all started with "I know you're really busy right now, but..." What is that supposed to mean? But what? But I'm not really that busy?! You mean, you'd like to discuss that stuff about your deceased brother, Elmo, who never filed a U.S. tax return in all of his years abroad? Now?! The stuff I tried talking to you about back in December? I'm not listening. LaLaLaLaLa. I have work to do, really, I am busy! Panic attack busy! And even if I were listening, I cannot process a cogent thought at this point unless it has to do with your tax return (and even that is sketchy...for anyone reading this, know that you're not getting the best quality time with your accountant the week before 4/15). I'm about to blow a gasket! I really don't want to work this Easter, but it's iffy right now.

Ahhh, heavy sigh. I feel better now. In the meantime...random thought...

I need to figure out how to put a dog photo roll up, like Eric and Rachel (at Life Being Beautiful) have on their blogs. For now, let me introduce you to Smokey...isn't he precious? :-)




Update (more ranting therapy): And another thing. Don't call to ask "how are you doing on my taxes?" They are not done yet. When they are done, I will call you. Until then, they are not done. For every call like that, I am interupted from doing your taxes (or someone else's) and it takes all the fun out of it for me. I know when the due date is. That's my job. If you're so worried, then bring them in earlier next year, like Lyndon does. Thank you!

Labels: An Accountant's Life, Insanity, Near-Death Experiences, The Animals

posted by Gwynne @ 5:18 PM 17 comments

On Why I Choose to Stay in the Shallow End

Tap, tap, tap. Hello? Is there anybody out there? [peeking timidly from behind the door] This is a little scary.

I only recently discovered blogging. It started when a good friend met his (now) bride who maintained a blog, and it became a compulsion not long after that. There is a lot of great writing talent out there. I have enjoyed reading a few blogs in particular and I encourage anyone who reads this to link over to their sites. My interaction with the blogging community has been full of laughs and encouragement and insight into things that really matter (and a lot of things that don't, like this, but that's not the point). :-)

So why blog? Because these people said so, that's why. That, and I've always wanted to be a travel writer. So this is the shallow end. I'll start in the shallow end and see how it goes. I don't plan to do anything fancy here, like a double gainer with three and a half twists off the cliff in the picture (although Eric did suggest this). ;-) I've had my share of near death experiences, both in the pool and the ocean, and I'm quite happy in the shallow end.

Oh, and I won't be spending a lot of time discussing politics or pop culture here, so if that's your thing, move along. It's not that I'm against those things. I'm simply not qualified. Another reason to stay in the shallow end. ;-)

I'll be drifting in and out for the next few weeks, due to some pressing tax deadlines, :-/ but please do stop in and see me once in awhile. I'll leave the light on for you.

Labels: Fellow Bloggers, Insanity, Near-Death Experiences

posted by Gwynne @ 11:08 PM 20 comments