Hello. It’s me…

I retired last year.

This year, I’m ready to go back to work.

Only, not the same kind of work. The last few years before retirement, I worked a thankless, brutal job of customer service over the phone. This encompassed back-to-back calls of helping people, which would have been okay in-and-of-itself, but they weren’t ordinary people. They were scary, grumpy, rude, threatening, bullying, downright awful people who lived to torment me and destroy any semblance of happiness I may have mustered up between shifts. 

No more. Not even. No way. 

So, a couple weeks ago I discovered a new way to work and am determined to give it a damned good try. Wish me luck. Pray for me. Adopt a troll doll and give her my name. Point your coffee cup toward The Emerald City. Whatever you can do to spirit me to success.

Thank you. I really appreciate it. I feel a lot less jittery, knowing you are all on my bandwagon. Singing with me. Dancing with me. Taking my self-respect and dignity for a walk. Singing Kumbaya, My Lord. It’s a beautiful thing.

So, I suppose you are asking: What is this big, fancy job of which I gush/speak/sing/whine about?

((((((DRUM ROLL PLEASE))))))

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I’m going to be a Pampered Chef Consultant!!

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Just take a sec and let it sink in.

  • Yes, I can cook.
  • Yes, I know how to read a recipe.
  • Yes, I have a head for business.

BUT

NO, I am not a salesperson!

So maybe it’s time to get a little nervous.  Especially since I start tomorrow. Just kidding. I’m okay. Really.

If I’m being completely serious (and honest), I’m going into this with my eyes wide open. I realize that, in order to succeed, I will need help. My sales will come from organizing and running online parties, and those parties come from getting friends and family like you to book a party with me.

So, here’s the pitch…

You knew it was coming.

I need your help.  Please consider throwing a party in the next couple months.  It is totally done on Facebook, so you can party in your PJ’s if you want to.  You invite your friends/family to the group page I create, and I do all the work.   You’d be surprised how much people love Pampered Chef.  Your sales will quickly rise, and you will be able to load your kitchen up with tons of free stuff. 

Courtesy of me.  You’re welcome.

Well, and your friends and family on Face book.

Sooooo, that is it in a nutshell.  I’m not asking for start-up capital, or a GoFundMe account for work expenses.  I don’t need any of that.  Pampered Chef provides everything for me except customers. My director will take me under her wing and make sure I have the best sales training around.  Of that I am certain, as I have seen her in action, and she is amazing.

So, I love you all and I know you love me. 

That won’t ever change.  Love is good. Love is kind. Caring is sharing and all that stuff. 

Message, email, text, call or holler if you can help me out.  Or if you want more info. Or if you’re really mad at me for even asking.  

It has not been easy to reach out, because that’s not my persona, but I truly believe in this company and these products, I believe in myself and my capabilities, and I really need something to do besides watching “Family Feud” every day at 3 pm.

Help me…

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Quite Frankly

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Wow, I was just sitting here, staring at my blog, and realizing it’s been quite awhile since I made an entry. My apologies. I do have an excuse or two.

I have been busy.

Wait, no that’s not an excuse. Well, it would be an excuse if it were true. I have not been busy. I have been un-busy.

And quite frankly, I’m pretty good at it.

Again, my apologies. Let’s just skip the excuses, shall we?  I can make that stuff up later.

Most of you know that we moved to Boise from Las Vegas last July.  Life has definitely changed for the better since we moved.  Reasons for the positive change are bullet-pointed below:

  • Our Las Vegas apartment had eighteen very large stairs leading up to the door. Our Boise condo has no stairs and the over-sized garage is just off the kitchen.
  • Taking out the trash in Las Vegas was a nightmare. Eighteen stairs down, then a hike up the street to the dumpster, a hike back, then eighteen stairs up. UGH. Here at our humble abode in Boise, we have our own little personal dumpster in the garage that we wheel to the curb when the garbage man is due.  After that, maybe a nap.
  • The man in the apartment below us in Vegas yelled and stomped and hit the walls (and probably his wife) and had us nervous all the time. Here in Boise, we have kind neighbors who shovel our walkway and sometimes even bring us our mail. Mimosa’s anyone?

I think I’ve made my point.  We love it here. 

Quite frankly, I don’t know why I didn’t think of this retirement stuff years ago, when I had time to enjoy it without arthritis and wrinkles. 

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Since moving here to beautiful Boise, I have been losing weight and getting in shape.  Well, I’ve been losing weight.  The shape is still melon…ish, but that’s a shape, right?  Seriously, I am eating healthy and taking care of myself better than I have in years. Of course, I didn’t do it alone.  Joan has been right there, riding that bandwagon with me. She’s eating right and exercising more. I am proud of her. I’m proud of us.

I still have about 35 pounds to go before I reach a total weight loss of 110 pounds. I’m planning on losing those last pounds as I did the first ones…very slowly. Lots of friends and relatives have shared their favorite roads to health with me, and I’ve learned there are apparently as many and varied ways to lose weight as there are bad politicians in Washington.  I am always patient when given advice and listen intently, taking each nugget of wisdom into account.

And then, quite frankly, I forget all of it and do my own thing.

“The Terri Diet is the latest and greatest diet to hit the universe since…well, forever. It is quite effective, easy, wholesome, NOT boring, and will have you dancing the skinny dance in no time!”

That’s my marketing pitch. What do you think? I’m going to be rich! Skinny, maybe. Rich, probably not. One needs a market in which to make a pitch, I suppose. So never mind.

Truth-be-told, I actually gleaned a little something from all the good diets out there I could find, threw out the stuff I didn’t like, and consolidated the rest into a program I could handle without cheating every thirty minutes.

Somehow it worked, and here I am, a skinnier, healthier, albeit more-wrinkled and a bit tired, person. But, quite frankly, such brilliance should be shared, so I’ve bullet-pointed the elements of my diet below, for your enlightenment:

  • The majority of my diet encompasses vegetables. Green beans, potatoes and peas are fine, but the real gold lies in the dark leafy greens. KALE, BABY! Eat it in the morning, eat it at night, eat it on the weekends because it’s DY-NO-MITE!
  • If you really must have meat, try to opt for chicken, and then only 3 ounces or less. Prepare it anyway you want, but keep in mind that calories really do count.
  • Drink water, water, water. I am not a big fan of water. In fact, just writing about it makes me want to pee. Drink it.  You must, or you’ll die.
  • The last important thing on this diet is to include variety. For me, that was the key. For gosh sakes, don’t get into a rut of eating kale and drinking water just because you are too lazy to find a new recipe and make a pot of tea.  The spice of life. Oh yes, use spices too. I love me some cumin. And red pepper flakes make me blush with culinary happiness.

That’s about it.  It’s so easy. The beauty is in its simplicity. 

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So, what’s next for this crazy, soon-to-be-skinny grandma?

Tune in soon for the next chapter on my new and improved retirement life.  I have much to tell.  Soon I will be taking on a new venture, the thought of which has me all giggly and goose-pimply. 

Are you curious?  Well, quite frankly, I have laundry to fold so I can’t discuss just yet. 
However, the picture below is a HINT. 

Any idea what I’m up to?

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Embrace your Lazy

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Do you ever wake up and not want to make your bed? Or brush your teeth?

Or remain upright? Yea, me too.

I am lazy.

There are different types of laziness. Some people are just lazy in their dreams, meaning they think about not doing stuff, but they eventually muster up enough chutzpah to get stuff done anyway. Those people are Lazy Wannabees. They work hard for an hour or two all their lives while dreaming of retirement, a beach chair, a good book, and a pina colada containing lots of rum and one of those tiny umbrellas. Whatever gets you through the day, I suppose. My dream would include a mug of hot Bailey’s and Coffee, hold the umbrella, and park my ass in a rocking chair on the porch of a cabin in the mountains.

However, I’m probably lazier than that, so let’s press on.

Other folks might be Selectively Lazy. This type of person has no problem leaving her bed unmade, but will painstakingly brew the perfect cup of coffee, if it takes her all morning. She might leave a sink full of dirty dishes, but vacuum twice a day because it feels good to have control over a naughty, ferocious, roaring beast loud piece of heavy equipment. Actually, she might have some other issues, but we won’t go there in this post. A selectively lazy person might sit in an easy chair for hours, and not get up for food, beverage, or to use the facilities. She has either found the perfect book, is binging the latest Netflix original, or lost in thought, contemplating world domination peace. Selective laziness. It’s a thing.

I’m pretty close to being that lazy.

The next level of laziness moves beyond selective and lands right smack in the “you should be ashamed of yourself” category. This person is lazy beyond reasonable comprehension, yet still manages to somewhat contribute to society. I call this type of lazy Downhill Slide Lazy. If you fall in this category, you never make your bed. Hell, sometimes, you can’t even find your bed for all the clothes, beer bottles and pizza boxes lying around. You manage to show up for work, but you don’t smell very fresh. You wonder about that look everyone is giving you, but soon your thoughts move on to a lunch menu and how many bath room breaks you can get away with before being fired. Your love life is lacking, as well, unless you are so attractive your partner(s) can forgive the smell or your inability to provide them any stimulation other than an occasional grunt of approval.

I’m pretty sure I’m not that lazy. I have a sensitive nose. I think I’d know.

My kind of lazy can’t really be pigeonholed. Some days, I don’t make the bed. Some days, I don’t do dishes or vacuum. That vacuum cleaner holds no power over me or my dominatrix tendencies.

What?

Most of the time, I use the fact that I am retired to excuse my lack of productivity, whether it be housework or reaching my projected writing word-count goal for the day. Also, my mind wanders. I don’t like multitasking, but my brain is still recovering from a life-time of meetings, deadlines, annoying coworkers, and office potlucks. Anyone who has not yet retired will find out about this soon enough. It’s like a train going full-speed for forty years and then trying to come to a complete stop immediately. Your scrambled brain spawns laziness at this point to protect you from possible impact resulting in internal combustion and/or the zombie apocalypse, whichever concept appeals to you. This might be Preventive Laziness. No judgement. No apologies. No regrets. It’s okay.

You do you. I’ll do me.

**DISCLOSURE:  The above is only conjecture. My personal coping mechanism, if you will. Kind of like a child sucking her thumb or grasping her blankie. I need to rationalize my behavior, and then soothe my tendency to over-compensate by eating my feelings. It’s not my fault if I don’t possess the rational facts to back it all up. Not to worry, though. No animals, doctors, or therapists were consulted, contacted, or contracted  harmed by this post.

But, let me make one thing perfectly clear. I am still not making my bed today.

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