I love being part of a blog groupie, LOL. You guys are fabulous, you know that?
Even you, Sarah, whoever you are. Anyway, I had a long anylization conversation
with D last night and came to some amazing conclusions. After reading all the
fab comments this morning, everything is even clearer. Why do I let people
control my thoughts and actions? That’s a big problem. So I figured out where
everyone is coming from. How the reps approach the clients, how the clients
approach me as a manufacturer, how I approach the reps. And it started to fall
into place. There is an industry out there that I have chosen to be a part of,
and as much as I love bending rules, there are some cases I cannot continue to
bend them and still expect to win. In those cases I agree to compromise. I
quietly go my way, operate under the standard boundaries of business, and take
my emotion out of it. Last night, I had to babysit at 6. Frazzled from
everything in aforementioned blog, I walked out the self-locking back door only
to realize that my car, house, and office keys all lay on the floor by my desk
chair. I had to call my mom, have her take me to babysit, and have D pick me up
from babysitting to retrieve an extra key. My brain was just not in the right
place. The fabulous thing about the day was that babysitting, for me, is a
refreshing experience. So I get to be a horse for awhile, carting kids around my
back. I get to do somersaults again, and twirl in the grass, and trace people
shapes on the concrete and turn them into princesses and pirates. I get to watch
cartoons, and eat pizza and cold green beans and drink juice from a box. Talk
about carefree. It’s therapy I get paid for!

I was going to title this blog “let me tell you why I’m stressed” and then list,
in numerical order, every little detailed thing that defines my life as out of
control. But halfway through number one I wondered if that would be considered
admitting faults. I was afraid it would force me to admit that I can’t handle
everything that’s going on in life right now, and I’m afraid that if I admit I
can’t handle it then everyone will lose faith in me. I spend my days, my hours,
my phone calls, trying to prove to people that I’m reliable. My family knows
they can count on me; friends know I’ll pull through on favors if they bug me
long enough. But there are hundreds, maybe thousands of people out there who
have never heard of me and don’t know if I operate on principles of integrity.
And people who don’t know me assume things. They assume I’m young. They assume I
don’t know things. They assume I’m rich (which is the funniest and most
maddening assumption of them all). They assume I’m inexperienced, or blind, or
that they know better. Ironically, most of the time, if I went on other people’s
advice (these people that don’t know me), I’d be making some very poor choices.
They assume that I’m flexible, that everything is negotiable. They assume that
because I’m a voice on the other end of the line that I won’t figure out what
their silence, or chatter, means. And the craziest assumption? That because I’m
a “company” (sounds big, right?), that there is a customer service department,
that a receptionist answers the phone, that I don’t know how much I spend on
shipping, that I won’t know the difference between a new and old account because
I don’t have to enter the dadgum information on the system. They think I’m
clueless. Little do they know. I may be quiet; I may not call on past due
accounts; I may have not known the difference between RGB and CMYK a year ago.
But there is so much more that I know than people give me credit for. So instead
of admitting my stress points for the whole www to read, I’ll write them down,
keep them to myself, work past them, conquer the impossible, and talk about it
in my biography some day.

It’s 8:19 and I’m here. I’ve had breakfast, checked the fax machine, and stopped
for coffee. My hair is wet, and I’m wearing the college spectacular Umbros and
Old School t-shirt, but heck. All I have to do today is fill orders (tons of
orders) and get out these sample decks. Saw little Max last night. He is
absolutely precious. A really cute baby. And sometimes, half day old babies
aren’t that cute.

I hate it when I never accomplish in one weekend as much as I want to. I can’t
seem to recount what I did Friday and Saturday, only that it didn’t amount to
much crossed off the to-do list. Yesterday afternoon Drew got his head shaved
for kids with cancer; now I’m dating a biker with a goatee. Yeah, it’s as
interesting as it sounds. Phil’s wife is being induced into labor even as we
speak (oh, we’re not speaking, but you get it), so there should be another
little Inzinga running around this world by this evening. Exciting stuff. Also,
I’ve had great response from reps in California, the northwest, Chicago,
Mid-Atlantic seaboard, and Florida! Sales! Yea!

I got to work early this morning. 8:30. If you know me at all, you know that is
the bloody buttcrack of dawn. But it is quiet, sitting here, drinking coffee and
preparing for the day. The day is usually something I’m thrown into around 11
o’clock, not something I pre-prep for at 8:30. Feels good. Apparently I’ve been
missing out on alot lately. I’m aware of this; don’t remind me. It seems like
the spare moments are wanting to be filled with lounging around, doing a whole
lot of nothing. Going out would constitute me actually having to eliminate the
ponytail, dry my hair, find some earrings, and get a makeover, since the makeup
bag is run dry. The few moments I’m willing to sacrafice in the name of partying
have lately accompanied a sore throat or other ailment. Not whining, just making
my excuses, gents. Sunday afternoon there is a charity thing at VZD’s and I’m
rounding up some great crowd. Everyone needs to come out. It’s a $10 cover to
get in, but there will be 5 bands there (not sure who just yet). Drew is shaving
his head, but I will be drinking beer. Sunday afternoons have become a great
party day for me, for some reason. So, I’ll be getting giggly for the first time
in months on Sunday. All should come hang out. I’m gonna get rowdy. And if you
don’t come out, you’re guaranteed a phone call a-la Dani.

So I work too much. I can’t help it. I really never accomplish as much as I want
to, anyway. There is alot I want to do in this world. For example, I want a
house on a beach somewhere. Close to good shopping. Preferrably somewhere within
the continental United States. I want to license my designs to someone,
somewhere, until they’re plastered all over kingdom come and the royalty checks
are bigger than Mary Kay’s. I want a two room shack on some remote mountain in
Colorado with a hot tub, sub-zero wine refridgerator, and wood burning
fireplace. On the edge of great skiing. I want to live in the South of France
for a year and immerse myself in their sexy, no-makeup, love the earth under
your feet and the wind in your face kind of lifestyle. I want to wear cotton
shirts that aren’t crisp anymore and have a closet full of sexy shoes and skirts
with dressmaker detailing. I want to have tea with Sting. In his castle. And
invite Bono and Jesus and solve major world issues. I want to write books, and
make movies, and swim with dolphins. I want to design furniture and fabric. I
want them to name drinks after me. I want to give Ralph Lauren a run for his
money. All in the nicest way. And above all, I always want to remember to smile
gracefully, remember where I came from, give credit where credit is due, and all
the glory to the One who created me. That’s a rich life. A girl can dream,
right?

I love those little salt packet things. Perfect for leftovers. A Dr. Pepper
would make me really happy right now. I wonder if someday everyone in the world
will have their own webpage, kinda like we all have our own phone numbers. I
really want some queso for these chips. Maybe I’ll go get the Dr. Pepper at
Sonic and get a banana split at the same time. I’m really not that much of a
pig. I really should go out to the Wormy Dog tonight. Been a long time since
I’ve had that much beer. Beer definitely makes me giggly. I could just show up
at midnight, take a bunch of funny pictures, listen to some good ol badwater,
participate in a few drunken audio blogs. I want to see that Taking Lives movie.
Looks creepy. Must go to Sonic.

who is this Nanna who is commenting on all our blogs recently?

What a weekend. So much to say, but I’ve gotta hurry through it. I arrived at
work later than anticipated, due to a craving for Sam’s Club pizza. So my sister
is going to have another baby in September. Not shocking. I met Drew’s parents.
Saturday night I was late to dinner; Sunday I was late to the zoo. Meeting
parents is a draining activity. I was exhausted last night. Drew and I spent the
drive back from Sam’s discussing the holiday/in-law dilemma. Interesting. I’ve
never really had that conversation before. Kenny is the owner of the Syndicate.
Highly intelligent, very amusing, and I guess as far as to say slightly
sarcastic. Oh, and political. His darling wife is my fabulous bookkeeper, highly
tolerant of my ever-increasing craziness called an office. Finally some orders
are coming in, which means I’m going to get very good at packing boxes. Today.
OK. Hope this blog made sense.

this one is for Ragan.