I like to eat

A couple of months ago I found a fabulous card that had on the cover "Why I Work: A Short Essay" and then you opened it up, and it said "I like to eat." I think that could sum up my past week.

Deciding to go back to work full time at the police department was a truly selfish act--as I said before, I was trying to recapture something of my youth, amongst wanting to be sure that if anything happened to my husband and/or our marriage, I had a retirement. I liked the job I was at, but in addition to the whole retirement thing, what could compete with the adrenaline rush of a 9-1-1 call, the sound of sirens and the frantic cries for help? What about ridding the Earth of the bad bad people that take advantage of others? Nothing can compete with saving the world! (Don't you see me in my cape and tights?)

Okay, so in reality, we're very lucky that we don't have non-stop frantic cries for help, and that we don't have too many HORRIBLE people (well, criminal people) in this town. I love getting the emergency calls, and I love the rush of knowing that I'm sending help to those that need it when they may be at their worst moment in life. I do sort of feel like I'm saving the world in a tiny, minimalistic, almost non-existent way.

However, the often lull in silence as the town (and I guess the bad guys) sleep, allows dispatchers' minds and mouths to run, and this toppled with working with 9 other women and being supervised by two men that don't quite get the woman-to-woman relationship thing, often leads to drama in the workplace. I think I spend more time listening to fires roar and more arguments boil over inside my workplace than I do in the town site. Let's just put it this way--the Chief has had to put TWO armed men in my workplace in order to try to establish order. And we've already run one of them out.

So yesterday I was feeling disgusted with the whole work thing (tired of gossip and rumor mills--although I realize that by listening to it and asking "WHAT?!" I'm participating), totally frustrated that I felt like I was doing everything and being abused by my supervisors (seriously, I think my real job title should be slave), wondering how I could give up all the luxuries that come with being part of a two full time income family (there's that whole eating thing--who wants to cook when there are other people that do it so much better than you and there are others that will serve YOU), and pondering how to commit a murder and get away with it (just give me the gun already--I've learned what NOT to do at a crime scene). I was sitting in a department supervisor meeting covered in sweat because it is summer in New Mexico, in a uniform that had been on for almost 12 hours, with greasy hair sort of in a ponytail but fly-aways everywhere, with makeup smudged down my face (do I sound pathetic enough yet?), trying to care about anything and trying to keep my eyes open (long night of silence until about 45 minutes before the end of my shift when a truly tragic call came in--and then I had to go to THIS meeting), reminding myself that I asked for this job, and really feeling sorry for myself, when the Chief gave me a very nice public pat on the back. And just like that, who cared that I have to work something like 17 days in a row with only 1 day off? Who cares that I have to wear combat boots in summer? Who cares that nobody knows the troubles I've seen? Suddenly the sun was shinning and I could go without sleep for months! I am making a difference!

Okay, so I'm still pretty dramatic.

Anyway, it's amazing that a million negative thoughts and a serious self-pity party can all be wiped away with one positive word. Maybe that's what I should be focusing on at work.
Remember that terrible movie with Helen Hunt and Haley Joel Osmond (is that his name? Dude from "The Sixth Sense") called "Pass It Forward?" It made a large ripple in society with the idea that one person doing one nice thing for one other person would change the world. I don't know that I'm that must of an idealist, but I know that I can certainly be a little more positive and remember that work doesn't have to run my life. I can enjoy what I do and who I do it with because no matter what they think or do, it's about MY reaction to it.

Besides, that way I can continue to eat and not have ulcers :)

On the food note still, today is my Mom's annual 4th of July BBQ. I actually have to go back into work (good thing I'm thinking positively!), but I will get to go there for a couple of hours first. Mom always has enough to feed an army (some day we should test that), and I'm supposed to be making a couple of dishes. I asked what she wanted me to bring and then told her I'll do what I want to do. Basically, she asked for a pasta salad and a fruit salad with a yogurt dressing. I announced I'd make a salad out of box and I'd bring cut up fruit in a bowl. I think I've a bit of a disappointment to Mom in the kitchen arena because while I like the idea of homemade dishes, I'm totally A-OK with the box idea. I remember when I was in junior high I mortified her by announcing to a friend and a friend's mom that I really LOVED boxed Macaroni and Cheese more than any thing in the world (at that time--now I love almost any food that I didn't have to create and then cook).

I love to get food magazines and to watch the Food Network. I have grandiose ideas that I could be the next Rachel Ray. I watch "Hell's Kitchen" and "Top Chef" in fascination. I even sometimes go to the store with the idea that I will make something from scratch! I will use a recipe and I will don an apron and I WILL RULE THE KITCHEN. And then I discover it already done in a box or a carton at the store, and I let my guilt nag me a little and then I think about how much better it will be if I make it and how proud I'll be to present this dish and how everyone will ooh and aah and I'll say that it was nothing (although the kitchen will tell another story). And then I'll say to heck with it and buy the already made dish.

I wonder if they'll have fruit already cut up for today at the store?