Nevergirl’s

This is what we do. It’s not as simple as it looks. You don’t just load up logs onto the trucks. There’s a bajillion paperwork involved. There’s also a million and one screw-ups that could happen from the moment a 10-wheeler leaves the yard to the time it arrives where it’s supposed to: in the factories.

Since we got here, the man and I have thought of at least five things to change in the way things are done. We’ve thought of automating the job orders, for instance. We’ve also suggested getting bpi training. We suggested making a software that automatically inventories truck parts, too. We can do this for them. We work with web technologies. These suggestions have been met with one answer: no.

Clearly, we’ve our work cut up for us convincing the ‘rents to bring the 21st century into the yard. It hasn’t happened yet, but by God we’ll work on making it happen.

Trucking and exporting could go so much faster and smoother with most of the processes automated — we know this to be true; they don’t. So yeah, good luck to us. We have full run of things while they’re away, but we can’t just change the way things are done or two vacationers in NYC (at the mo) will have a coronary. Hahaha. It’s never an easy thing, I tell you, when old school meets the new. Even the fact that I have run of another company (as my day job) is a bone of contention, but I explained it this way: I do what I do for the mental stimulation. I’d die if I give it up because I love what I do so much. Also, please don’t make me stop working because I get teased enough about being a Stepford wife as it is, and I hate that label so. I used to be a picket line regular, people. I’m more blue collar than Stepford-y but that’s another story.

Guess who signed up for gym only to show up for day and then write off what’s left of the membership as a loss? We got hooted at, of course. First off, I’ve no business going to the gym unless it’s to put myself through a routine for weight gain. At my fattest, I weigh only 96 pounds. At my thinnest, I pitch the scale at 90 pounds. That’s skinny, so skinny in fact my sisters worry that I haven’t been eating right and tell me so every time we YM.

Second, the ‘rents have their own gym at home, with a treadmill and all sorts of fitness equipment strewn about. The gym we signed up with is your run-of-the-mill gym in the barrio; it has fewer equipment. It’s not air-conditioned.

You’d think we’d jump at the chance to be lazy and just work out at home, but that isn’t the case. It’s impossible to exercise at home, with the kids trailing after me all the time, with the cook keeping the kitchen warm and well-supplied with one yummy treat after the next, with the puppies running after us wanting to play, with the men from the shop walking in and out of the door to look for “amo”. That’s what the talyer boys call him now, and I rib him about it endlessly.

“Sounds very mafioso,” I’d tease and he’d harrumph.

But I digress. We were talking about the snag to our gym plans. We got royally laughed at for being one-day wonders, but this isn’t exactly the first time this happened. We’ve signed up for membership twice before, and showed up twice or thrice before calling it quits. I’ll never give up insisting the man gyms, though. He can’t focus on exercise here but he just might be able to, at a gym. The only way I can get him to go, though, is if I go, too. So yeah, let’s see what the next few months bring. In the meantime, I shall try to take all the ribbing in stride. It’s not like we don’t deserve it hahaha!

Here’s what Krst’ll had to say about quick weight loss — not yours, or everyone’s, mind you, but mine. She was appalled by how thin I looked in recent photos, and she gave me a good earful about it.

“You look like an African refugee. Eat more uy. You look gangly. Sayang your dresses. What’s that disorder again? I remember. Body dysmorphic disorder. Gain some weight, Chin. Waif-like figures are so 5 seasons ago. Kate Moss is old now. We need to listen to our bodies. When we get sick, our bodies are trying to tell us something. Like my back pains,for instance. The doc told me I should move using correct body mechanics. We both have very stressful jobs but we should make sure we never forget to take care of our health. People who have the right weight are happier, plus they don’t look poor. Haha!”

You are a funny girl, K. Just so you know, I do eat. I eat a lot, in fact. It’s just that when I’m stressed, the weight drops like crazy and I go back to being 90 pounds again. It’s a struggle not to get any lighter than 90 pounds on days when I’ve to train new hires. It’s tough enough to run a company with staff from at least 15 different time zones; taking on new hands makes things even tougher. However — and this has to be said — I love, love what I do and wouldn’t give it up for the world. But I hear you, K. I’ll put tons more on my plate every mealtime, and think of you each time I do.

The husband is funny. He’s tearing his hair out over missing the gadget sale last Black Friday. He is in agony, and it’s real agony, I tell you, because the man is gadget-mad. He’s also quite a snob when it comes to labels. I’m not. I wear anything; I’d use anything. In fact, my closet is a sea of unlabeled clothing. If I were to agonize over anything right now, it won’t be missing out on gadgets. It’d be not getting to go to NYC because we have to look after the business while the ‘rents gallivant.

I can’t even begin to describe how envious I am of the 14-year-old and 15-year-old that got to go. The day after they watched a play on Broadway, Thirdy messaged me, “It was amazing, te.” I wanted to die. Who misses a Broadway play because she has to put business specs on and make like the boss? I’m not even needed here. At least, not badly. The trucks will run just fine without me around.

Oh missed trips (and there will be tons, I know this now), I shall try not to think of you too much or I’ll age at the speed of light. I’m not built for worry or envy.