I WON POWERBALL!

OK, I didn't win ALL of it, but $7 ain't bad, right? (trust me, when unemployed for a month, seven bucks is GREAT!)

Speaking of GREAT ... the new job is exactly that. They gave me a spiffy new widescreen notebook PC (I swear to you ... it's not even an inch thick and is super light-weight), I have my own desk (okay, it's a cubicle but to me it's heaven) with my very own telephone that only rings when someone wants to talk to ME, my very own direct line with voice mail, a whole gaggle of company logo'd stuff like an anti-moldy water bottle and super cool zip up sleeveless hoodie, 401k, ESOP and health insurance for half of what it's been elsewhere (including dental!)

The people are exactly that ... people! I've not run into anyone yet who acts fake or schmarmy like you might think someone in the ad game would. It's like they screen for 'em. My coworkers are all very willing to help and actually listen to what I have to say! Seriously, my biggest complaint is that we have (did I already bitch about this?) stalled bathrooms and I simply can not bring myself to take care of serious business unless I go down to the first floor. (OH! 'Another cool thing to this desert hick ... I have to take the elevator to my office! Well, maybe not HAVE to, but seriously, I could have a 230lb coronary on the stairs between the second & third floors and nobody would find me for HOURS.)

The only other "complaint" I would have is that I'm super busy (as is everyone else) so I don't really feel okay about asking people questions. We're talking crazy busy, man. But again, when I do ask, everyone is kind (not nice, mind you, but kind.) And remember when I said I'd get to define my own role (I said that, right?) because they've never really had a production manager before? Snort, uh, yeah! There is very little in place as far as protocol and I get to define it baby! Uncharted territory! Space: the final frontier! That place right in the middle of your back you can never ... quite ... reach ... it's mine, all MINE!

OK, so the Dad person flew out to check out the home he & the wife are buying. We drove down to have dinner with him. He's good, but aging. It's so disconcerting to see your father go from 35 to 60, even if it DOES take 25 years to do so. Is it because I've not been there the past seven years to watch the process so I'm just floored every time I see him? What the hell?

The older sister is pissed off at me for pointing out to our mother that when our little sister (age 25) fell down a ditch and broke her ankle last week that she (the little sister) wasn't being klutzy, she was in fact being drunk. Apparently that's not a nice thing to point out to a woman who you feel ruined your formidable years by being a raging alcoholic. Sheesh. Show me the rule book, would ya?

OK, that's all I have in me for right now. The nervous twitch I've developed at work (did I mention how much I have on the plate?) has subsided and I still need to read thesneeze before bed.

Blessings and wellness to all. And remember; seven bucks in the lottery ain't a bad thing!