I had some dreams ... they were klowns in my koffee.

(With apologies to Carly Simon)

This is my journey through job transition from a toxic environment to a better life. Join me for a few thoughts and a few laughs along the way.
What are "klowns in my koffee"? They are the factors large and small that make you less than you are. A "klown" can be a grossly incompetent boss,
a short-sighted policy or a moronic coworker. They won't kill you, at least not immediately, but they abrade the soul
as you scrape past them to get through the day. Sometimes it's best to dump them out of the cup.


Day 252 - Daisy, Daisy, Give Me Your Answer, Do

Daily Kup (My Life as a Gainfully Unemployed Person)
Last night's shovel loads from the sky became this morning's glistening ribbon of white. The plows came and did their magic by morning time. I had danced on the cusp of canceling the Daisy Girl Scout Investiture ceremony, fearing that the roads would be impassible, if not impossible. A big thumbs up to the blue flashing light guys who not only cleared my street but left my mailbox standing in the process.

Please Don't Scare the Daisies

Ten little girls in ten little blue vests stood in a circle and managed to get through the Girl Scout Promise. Most used the correct hand and got their three little fingers in the air with the thumb and pinkie clasped.

On my honor, I will try:
To serve God and my country,
To help people at all times,
And to live by the Girl Scout Law.

We sailed through the welcome to the parents and handing out the agendas carefully colored with big, bright markers and delicate colored pencils. We said the Promise and had each child contribute her petal to the giant flower constructed on the carpet. Then, each name was called and the girl walked forward to have her hand shaken, receive the greeting "Welcome, Daisy" and have her shiny new Daisy pin apply to the yellow flap on her vest. This worked well until the fifth child. This child arched her back and retreated ten feet from the middle of the room until she had trapped herself in the bookshelf in the corner. She refused to be extracted.

This child was my child.

After the last girl went through the process with no issues, we dug Princess Potatohead out of the corner and slapped the pin on her vest while I muttered, "Welcome, Daisy" under my breath.

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