These are the thoughts and observations of me — a woman of a certain age. (Oh, my, God, I'm 65!) I'm single. I'm successful enough (independent, self supporting). I live just outside Chicago, the best city in the world. I'm an aunt and a friend. I feel that voices like mine are rather underrepresented online or in print. So here I am. If my musings resonate with you, please visit my blog again sometime.
As February draws to a close I'm finally beginning to trust what's happening: my least favorite coworker, The Chocolate-Covered Spider, is changing toward me.
Instead of going over my every written word with a fine-tooth comb, looking for (and delighting in finding) errors, she just glances and makes helpful (!) suggestions (as opposed to dictates). She has come by my office to tell me that one of her daughter's dolls reminded her of me, and she showed me the photo she took on her cell to prove it. She told me about her vacation and apologized for not bringing back souvenirs (I always bring back trinkets for the team, but I don't expect anyone else to).
It's pleasant, and sure beats the hell out of dreading every encounter with her.
I'm a little embarrassed, though, for her about-face happened right after her half-day (literally, she was behind closed doors with her boss for close to three hours) performance evaluation. Since her behavior has only changed toward me, it's obvious that her boss busted her for her responsibility for the friction between us. It's almost mortifying to imagine him saying, "Now you make nice with The Gal."
Tom, who works with both of us, says that this is an example of how the review system is supposed to work: an employee receives input, recognizes the validity of it, and improves. He says this is a good thing. I wish I could trust it.
As we wait to see which song will be honored as Best Song of
2011, here are 13 songs that have not only won the Oscar but have stood the test of time. I guarantee that at least one of these will work it's way into your brain ...
1) Just the Way You Look Tonight. "Lovely, never ever change. Keep that breathless charm. Won't you please arrange it because I love you ... just the way you look tonight." Swing Time. 1936.
2) Over the Rainbow. "If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow, why, oh why can't I?" The Wizard of Oz. 1939
3) When You Wish Upon a Star. "When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are. Anything your heart desires will come to you." Pinocchio. 1940
4) White Christmas. "May your days be happy and bright, and may all your Christmases be bright." Holiday Inn. 1942.
5) All the Way. "When somebody loves you it's no good unless she loves you all the way ..." Joker's Wild. 1957.
6) Moon River. "Moon River, wider than a mile, I'll be crossing you in style someday." Breakfast at Tiffany's. 1961.
7) Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head. "So I just did me some talking to the sun and I said I didn't like the way he got things done. Sleepin' on the job ..." Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. 1969.
8) The Theme from Shaft. "Who's the black private dick that's a sex machine with all the chicks?" Shaft. 1971.
9) The Way We Were. "So it's the laughter we will remember, whenever we remember the way we were." The Way We Were. 1973.
10) Evergeen. "You and I will make each night a first, every day a beginning ..." A Star Is Born. 1976
11) I Just Called to Say I Love You. "I just called to say how much I care. I just called to say I love you, and I mean it from the bottom of my heart." The Woman in Red. 1984.
12) Can You Feel the Love Tonight? "It's enough to make kings and vagabonds believe the very best." The Lion King. 1994.
13) Lose Yourself. "You better lose yourself in the music, the moment, you own it, you better never let it go." 8 Mile. 2002.
To play along, just answer the following three (3) questions…
1) What are you currently reading? 2) What did you recently finish reading? 3) What do you think you’ll read next?
1) Star, by Peter Biskind. It's a fascinating, compulsively readable biography of Warren Beatty. There's a lot about moviemaking, even more about women. As I wind toward the end, I wonder if his career really deserves such an exhaustive study. He's only made 22 movies (compared to about 40 for his contemporary and chief competitor, Robert Redford), and really only about 6 were important. Though granted, Bonnie and Clyde is one of the great, influential American films. Instead I think Biskind named the book Star for a reason, for it's about how Beatty leveraged power and persona that played a bigger part in his career than his actual work.
2) MWF Seeking Same by Rachel Bertsche. I didn't finish this book, but alas, I am done with it. This began as a magazine article and, in my humble opinion, that's how it should have stayed. The premise is charming. A newly wed moves to Chicago and wants to find a new BFF. The author claims this is hard to do once you're out of the dorm. But expanding the story to book length doesn't enhance it. There's a sameness to her "friend dates." Plus, as the book wore on, I realized I didn't really like Rachel that much. So I ditched it and moved on.
3) LA Mental by Neil McMahon. A psychological thriller set in Los Angeles. According to the foreword, James Patterson loved it, so I know what to expect -- a literary candy bar that's plenty of fun while it lasts. All the studio politics, the on-set clashes and the sexual sturm und drang of Beatty makes me long for some mindless literary empty calories.
I want to go back. Like a lot of people, I have been listening to Whitney Houston again for the first time in years. Literally. I bought and enjoyed her last CD, but it's not like she's forever in my headphones, the way her sister divas Barbra Streisand and Diana Ross are.
As I listen to "Didn't We Almost Have It All?" and "Saving All My Love for You," I am touched not so much by how fabulous Whitney's voice was (though it was), but how energetic and hopeful I was when these songs were popular. I don't so much long for Whitney -- after all, these songs are forever -- as I do my youth, which, alas, is gone forever.
1. How many gravy boats do you have in your kitchen? That would be none. (Hey, this meme is gonna be easy!)
2. Do the clothes in your laundry basket need ironing? No, just laundering.
3. What is the last thing you wallpapered? I'm not crazy about wallpaper. When I moved in to my current home, I had the paper in the kitchen removed. Does that count?
4. Wooden floors or carpet? Carpet. Though when I get enough money ahead, that will change to wood again.
5. Why do we put out guest towels if no one is supposed to use them? In my case, I guess the more relevant question would be, "why do I have guest towels when I so seldom have guests?"
6. If your spatula could talk, what would it say about your duvet? Nothing positive, that's for sure!
7. Have you replaced the batteries in your smoke alarms this year? "No," she said, hanging her head in shame.
1. Can you name the American Presidents we are honoring? Bonus: Any idea when their real birthdays are?
Hel-lo! I lived my whole life in Illinois, the Land of Lincoln. We are celebrating honest Abe (our favorite son, though born in KY on 2/12) and George Washington, Father of our Country, born on 2/22.
2. Why do you suppose car sales are an important aspect of our President's Day observations in the U.S.? Because car sales have been a huge component of our economy since the days of Henry Ford. But I've noticed white sales are a bigger deal on Presidents' Day. I have no idea why.
3. Have you ever been President of a club or organization? How did that feel?
Nope. I have never even run for anything.
4. If you could have dinner with any President of the United States no
longer living, who would it be? Any particular questions you would like
to ask? (Mr. Lincoln. Of course. I'd love to just hear him speak. Such eloquence, such heart. Have you ever read his Farewell Address, given off the cuff when he left Illinois for the last time? It's beautiful and wise. I also would love to ask him about the Reconstruction. Like JFK with Viet Nam, the tantalizing what-would-have-been is how Lincoln would have/could have brought us together. And then there's the Mrs. I have always found Mary Lincoln a very moving character.
5. On a more serious note, what are the qualities you hope for in our next President? I long to inspired by a President the way JFK and FDR rallied us. I want a Commander in Chief who touches what Lincoln (Abe, again!) referred to as "the better angels of our nature."
I'm watching the PBS American Experience documentary about Bill Clinton and I find myself smiling. I know who he is, I know how he is. I know what he risked and what he sacrificed for nothing more important than a piece of tail. I have no illusions. And yet ...
I believe in him. I did then. I do now. I remain proud of the work I did on those campaigns.
My federal tax refund will be just under $4000. Half of that will go for my mom's 2013 Medicare Part B. Knowing that it is already taken care of is such a relief. The rest will be split between my upcoming vacation and ongoing credit card debt. The state refund will go to pay for the tax preparation.
I was stuck next to our coats. She was
opposite me, having slid into the booth beside my husband.
I appraised her with an experienced
eye: mid-30s, pert breasts, tight ringlets. I almost said, “1985 wants its hair
back,” but that was trite and besides, I was tired.
Poodle Perm touched his hard bicep.
“How does he bathe his wings in hot sauce and still stay in this shape?” Her
finger lingers in an intimate, possessive gesture. But I don’t think they’ve
had sex yet. Probably just a Clintonian moment in the front seat of our car.
I was going to ask how she knew we’d be
here tonight, but I realize he told her. He wanted this confrontation. He's
enjoying it.
They both work at the airport. He’s a
baggage handler, she’s a secretary. Oh, the tales she told me about my mate of
more than 25 years. In the breakroom, his favorite song came on and he started
dancing with such abandon he didn’t realize he was in front of the dartboard!
Lucky she pulled him out of the way! He called her from the runway but by the
time she picked up, he forgot what he wanted to ask her. So he stammered and
then sang, “I just called to say I love you, I just called to say how much I
care.” He often sneaks offsight for beers, and she lowers her voice as she explains
how she takes care of his timecard for him.
“Honey,” I almost say, “I know he’s
high maintenance. I work a 70-hour week to support this functioning alcoholic
so he can waste his pay on booze and blow. By the time I get home he’s
encouraging our son to join him, farting around on Facebook, ignoring his
homework and disregarding me as a workaday drudge. If you think you can handle
my husband, you’re welcome to him. You may be enchanted by a boyish fool, but I
live the corrosive reality.”
My best friend is an interesting case in that he speaks fluidly and expansively but he simply cannot write. Something happens when he takes pen in hand or places his fingers on the home row: He freezes.
So this is a tough time of year for him, for he has to complete his annual performance self-assessment. He is certain that "they" are unhappy with how he handles his clients on a day-to-day basis and maintains that his last review was "horrible." (It wasn't; he asked me to read it and it wasn't that negative. It just smacked of bosses looking for a reason not to give him much of a salary increase.)
Anyway, he turned to me for help. Which is goofy because I haven't worked in double harness with him for years. But on the other hand, I used to be a boss so this is a language that comes easily to me. So I trotted out all those phrases. Here's my favorite: "My creative/critical thinking allows me to successfully identify problems that can have long-range implications for deadlines and budgets, which reduces the need for crisis management."
HR reps and bosses lap that language up like a kitten with a saucer of milk, because it gives back to them all the crap phrase they give their employees. But the question becomes: What's the value? It's purely a word game. If I can write the review for someone who works for a company I have never stepped foot into, how valid is this process? This looking over the past four quarters, recalling our triumphs and searching our souls for our goals and objectives to help us improve in the future and grow the business is nonsense.
We're all still Tony Manero at the paint store, asking for a raise every week and being thrilled and delighted when the boss unexpectedly comes through. Because we're white collar, we like to pretend it's more sophisticated than that. But it ain't.
I'm reasonably certain this is the one and only time anyone has compared my best friend to John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. He was upset recently when his two young daughters, discovering Friends through a Nick@Nite marathon, told him they decided nerdy Ross was based on him.
76) In your opinion, what makes a great relationship? Safety and acceptance.
77) How did/could someone win your heart? Bruce Springsteen won my heart by singing, "Show a little faith, there's magic in the night."
78) In your world, what brings on more creativity? Water. I find I'm frequently more creative after a shower, which is why I think it would serve my coworkers well to make sure I have time for lunchtime workout and subsequent shower. They don't seem to get it and keep scheduling meetings for 11:30 to 12:30.
79) What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far? Back in the days when I was a secretary (before there were "administrative assistants") in a huge corporation, I applied for a position as a copywriter in the internal creative department. I didn't have any training whatsoever, but there was a mid-level executive, one of the few women in the company in that role in those days, who encouraged me. That's when I went from "job" to "career."
80) Why did you break up with your last ex? He moved to Ohio to be nearer his big brother and it just didn't seem worth the long-distance thing.
81) What would you want to be written on your tombstone? The way Wilbur eulogized Charlotte: She was a true friend and a good writer.
82) What is your favorite word? "Gubernatorial." It's fun to say.
83) Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word: delusional. Meds.
84) What is a saying you use a lot? " ... then we'll miss our deadline and Christmas will be cancelled!"
85) Are you watching Idol this season? If yes, how do you like it? I keep forgetting to tune in.
86) Were you surprised that House got canceled? Nope. Never watched a full episode from start to finish.
87) What is your current desktop picture? I've told this story before, and I'll tell it again here:
These
two photos take turns on my desktop, revolving from one into the other,
telling the story of the day in the life of Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy
Onassis that provides just one example why I admire her so.
These
photos were taken the same afternoon, moments apart, in autumn, 1971.
The photographer who took the first shot and appears in the second shot
is Ron Gallela. He hounded Jackie on a daily basis, dressing up as Santa
Claus to shoot
her while shopping at Christmastime, hiding in coat racks for photos of
her dining and sometimes even smoking (gasp!) with friends, chasing her
in a speed boat while she water skied, following her into movie
theaters, etc. When her children were young they still had Secret
Service protection
and she would ask the agents to, "Please smash his camera," and usually
they would. It got so bad that in 1972, just months after this
incident, she actually took him to court and got a restraining order. I
often wonder what would have happened if Princess Diana had been as
ballsy as JBKO; perhaps she'd still be with us.
Anyway, Jackie
was running a quick errand, crossing Fifth Avenue in front of her
apartment building, when Galella sidled up near her and called her name.
She reflexively turned and smiled. When she saw who it was, and that
this time he had an accomplice with a camera, she simply slipped the
dark glasses on (thereby making the subsequent photos he shot worth a
little less), kept her face impassive and kept going.
She hated
Galella. He was a stalker and he frightened and enraged her. Yet look at
her control. Sure, she could have lost her temper with him (Marlon
Brando literally punched his teeth out), but that would have given
Galella a front-page shot he could have retired on. So she just withdrew
into herself and kept going.
I wear my heart on my sleeve. I have a difficult time with my temper, which often hurts no one else as much as it does me.
I
hope if I gaze at her long enough and remember the story, some of it
will rub off on me. "Remember, Gal, just put on your sunglasses and keep
going."
88) If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be? Oh, I don't like this question.
89) What would be a question where you'd not tell the truth? "Do you want to get together?" I really like my alone time, and I've learned that people take it personally when I'd rather just sit home "doing nothing" rather than hang out with them. So I lie.
90) One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the
light to find that you are surrounded by WEEPING ANGELS. The Weeping
Angles aren't really doing anything, they're just standing around your
bed. What would you do? Pray that I wake up from this dream really quick.
91) You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good,
and what's even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of
your choice! What is that power? I would suddenly burn double calories for every move I make!
92) You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can
only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like
to experience again? I was really in love with a very nice man. We were staying with his sister and had to share a twin bed. It was very uncomfortable and I woke up because he was holding me soooo tight in his sleep. I realized at that moment how happy I was, how easy it felt.
93) You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be? Something ugly happened to me when I was in high school at the hands of a male relative.
94) You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your
choice. (let's say that you are both single and available) Who might it
be? See Question #2. The Boss had me at "Thunder Road."
Isn't it nice to see The Big Man again?
95) You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go? Boston. I have been thinking about Boston a lot lately.
96) Do you have any relatives or friends in jail? Nope.
97) Who's winning the U.S. Republican presidential nomination? Why? If it's Romney, it's because people are thinking about their wallets. If it's Santorum, it's because Republicans are afraid of anyone who doesn't think exactly like they do.
98) Who's winning the next U.S. Presidential election? I'd like to be sure it's Obama, but I can understand Romney winning. No way will it be Santorum.
99) If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say? "The demonizing and polarization in this country is killing us!"
The pitchers and catchers are all there, and now the position players are starting to arrive at the Cubs training camp in Mesa, AZ.
The new crew -- Theo Epstein, Jed Hoyer and Dale Sveum (who I, for some reason, always want to call "Jeff") -- are emphasizing "The Cubs Way," our blueprint to success in 2012 and beyond. I am hopeful that they're right, of course. But this year is going to be so different from recent seasons gone by that I just want to see how it unfolds.
And, oh, isn't it nice to be thinking about baseball again!
My head hurts. My jaw hurts. I'm grumpy. All I want to do is sleep. Not exactly a delightful day off.
It wasn't all bad, though. While it took several hours in the dentist chair, the endodontist seemed optimistic that she has been able to save my tooth. Yea! And it cost less (or insurance paid more) than anticipated. Double yea! But I'm a little sore. Without the Napoxen, I'd be a lot sore.
The Naproxen combined with the sudafed I'm taking for the sinus infection is taking its toll. I don't feel like myself. And I kinda miss me.
1. Do you every solicit advice on your love life? I have. I am very lucky to have a wide circle of friends with diverse life/love experiences.
2. What was the last thing you argued with someone about? It wasn't really an argument. My boss and I disagreed about something I had done. Next time he saw it, I still hadn't edited it (because I didn't want to). He asked, "Are you going to change that headline?" My reply was, "If you make me." It went out as I wrote it.
3. Who do you hate right now? My "friend" Kathy. A real friend wouldn't treat me the way she has.
4. Who do you love right now? Lots of people. I'm lucky that way.
5. Where do you want to be in 6 years? I want to be better off financially, which will require behaving more like a grown up.
6. What is your craziest vice? I have lots of vices, but none are "crazy." They're pretty average.
7. How did you celebrate Valentine's Day? I went to the dermatologist for dermabrasion. You're jealous, aren't you?
8. What is your most unique or fondest memory of a special Valentine's Day? A man I was in love with gave me a souvenir mug and a tin of hot chocolate. Less than a month earlier, he had nursed me through a bout of the flu with TLC and hot chocolate, so it was his way of reminding me to take good care of myself when he wasn't around.
9. Were you in the same location five years ago that you are today? Would you have expected to be? Yes. Yes.
The weekend challenge: Take a famous story, poem, book, or fable, and retell it in exactly 33 words.
The Titanic
An early and tragic testament to the Power of The 1%. Only
25% of the third class passengers who board the ship just before noon on April
10, 1912, will survive the ride.
I'm still angry and sad about last Saturday's hostile exchange with Kathy. And, unfortunately for my readers, this is where I come to work shit out. I write. It's what I do.
As I reflect on my 30 year friendship with Kathy, it feels a little like the 90s movie Single White Female. Allie advertises for a roommate and finds Hedy. At first they get along well. Then Hedy cuts her hair like Allie, starts dressing like Allie, insinuates herself into Allie's career and sleeps with Allie's boyfriend. I know this comparison is unflattering and unfair to Kathy, but right now, that's how it feels.
I suspect Kathy is really angry at me because my life doesn't work as well for her as it does for me.
Example 1: Ever since I left home, I have lived in this same village. It borders Chicago, which makes my commute to the city very easy. It's racially diverse, supports three libraries, and I have a shopping district and a 7-screen movie theater within walking distance. It has always felt like home.
When Kathy and I first met, I was in my mid-20s and she was a newly-single working mom in her mid-30s. Her teenaged kids remained with her ex in the far western. very Republican/homogenous suburb they grew up in while she moved to a garden apartment in the city. She loved teasing me about how suburban I am, how long I had lived in the same town, how that sort of thing just isn't for her. I tried to explain to her that the town I live in is much more progressive and livable than realized. No, no, she said, always with a smile. She's more of a free spirit than I am, she craves more diversity of experience. She's done with burbs and was now a city girl, through and through. Small town life as I lived is simply not for her.
Then guess what. She not only moved to my town but onto my very street! Just one of those "Kathy things," she said.
Example 2: In the 1990s, after a heartbreaking break-up, I decided to go through training and officially join the church I'd been attending. It felt like the right thing to do. I wanted to make a commitment, to myself and to God, after all the comfort the church provided me when I needed it. I feel comforted and fortified by the congregations emphasis on "Glory to God and service to man." Kathy used to tell me that this sort of thing is OK for me, but she is so much less conventional than I am. To hear her tell it, this Gal requires structure and a patriarchal view of God and religion, but her spiritual life is more creative and more imaginative. She tweaked me about it for nearly a decade -- I remember because she wasn't sure she wanted to go to the 9/11 community prayer service with me right after the attack on the Twin Towers.
Then guess what. I read in the bulletin that she was one of our new congregants. This time she was actually embarrassed when she told me it was one of those "Kathy things," she said. So now she's on my street and in my church -- two of the places she made fun of me for being. She also started going to my dentist (who she took forever to pay) and my accountant.
Example 3: When we met in the 1980s, we were both in-house writers for the same major midwestern company. I left first and found, once I got away from that first job, that my interest turned from hard partying to working hard. I won a couple of awards and found that the encouragement gave me confidence. To my own surprise, I found I had leadership abilities and presentation skills, too. I began my career ascent, developing areas of expertise that would make me more marketable in a competitive industry. Kathy took a different path. She went out on her own as a free-lancer. Saying that she's just a freer, more adventurous spirit than I am. I tried to be supportive. When I had my wisdom teeth removed, I recommended Kathy sub for me over 3 days. It didn't work out. I don't know what happened, exactly, (after all, I was home with stitches in my jaw) but Kathy had a hard time conforming and taking input/revisions. After two days my account team told here they didn't need her anymore, and then asked me to come in on Friday, chubby cheeks and all.
Kathy told me there were no hard feelings, but there were. This was when the digs began. Working in a constrictive agency setting is OK for me, but Kathy sees herself as a free spirit, hungry for a variety of clients and work experiences that my place of employment just doesn't provide.
Then guess what. Kathy's free-lance business went under as my star rose. She wanted to be a staff writer again, perhaps at an agency. Instead of asking me to review her resume, she asked to see mine. Remember that: She asked to see mine. Her response to it was bracing. Perhaps my approach is OK for someone like ME, who is all ambitious and wants to make a six-figure salary, but Kathy is an artist, after all. She writes because she loves writing. She was implying that I was a crass sell-out. I was very hurt by this.
Example 4: Our careers then took us down different roads. Once I got the title of creative director, I realized I didn't want it. I don't have a college degree and, as I said, began my career without any serious aspirations, so I wanted to see if I could do it. If I could reach that goal. I was in that role for about three years and found myself completely burned out. I needed time to think and reassess. I got very, very lucky. The agency I was working for needed to make deep, deep cuts and when asked who on my team I thought should go, I said "me" and they bought it! I laid myself off and got a sweet severance package, generous enough to enable me to pay for COBRA. I also had enough connections that I was able to cobble together free-lance assignments and keep the wolf away from the door for a year and a half, until I decided what I wanted to do. (That's how I ended up in this job.)
By now Kathy was in real estate. Agents are independent contractors and again, she didn't have benefits. She and I were both having "woman problems" at that time. I had painful uterine fibroids, with bleeding so heavy and constant my doctor told me I was in danger of becoming anemic. I had a uterine fibroid embolization (UFE), a successful and comparatively non-invasive procedure that worked like a charm. I knew Kathy was struggling in her real estate business so I asked her if she'd cover for me with my free-lance writing clients. After all, she'd been a writer herself almost as long as I had, and all she'd have to do is make any required edits and pass them along to the art director.
She never found out the cause of her pains and bleeding. I suspect it was because she didn't have insurance. Anyway, she actually advised not to get the UFE, saying that she would never just run to the doctor with every malady like I do and become a puppet of the male medical establishment, like I was. I was furious. I told her this was the time I needed her support, not judgement. And, to be fair, she did cover for me without taking a cent and gave me a deck of playing cards to keep me amused during my short recuperation. But this was an important foreshadowing of last Saturday.
Example 5: I have always lived with cats, from the time I was a little girl. My big old tub of guts, Joey, is sitting beside me as I write this. I love animals and I have a way with them. They not only make me happy, I believe that because I have a natural affinity for them, it's my duty to give forever homes to as many as I can, as often as I can.
Kathy always teased me about this, too. It's OK for me to have cats, but she's really a dog person (like I don't love dogs? Really?) and besides, she's too free to be held down by the responsibility of pets. Besides, unlike me, she had children, remember? She gets her fill of nurturing in that way.
Then guess what. She got two kittens. Before they were very old, Kathy found herself over 60 and financially busted. She lost her apartment and had to move in with her adult daughter. Her daughter refused to let her bring the cats. By now I was getting sick of Kathy's lack of responsibility, but my biggest concern was those cats. Pets are like corks on the water, they just bob along where the tides and our lives take them. Why should they suffer?
So I called all the vets and animal shelters I'd had contact with over the years and found one, near my mother's house a few towns over, that was very sympathetic to Kathy's plight. They agreed to "foster" her cats, keep them together in the same cage, until she got herself together and could afford to reclaim them. They charged her nothing for this, but they did expect her to do volunteer work.
The cats had a dormant virus in their systems and, after a few weeks, the stress of being in the shelter environment made them sick. Bobbie, the shelter manager, wanted to protect the other cats in her care and put Kathy's cats down right away. But she was sensitive to how much Kathy loved them so she called and asked her if she wanted to say goodbye to them. Bobbie moved them to an animal hospital, where they were kept alive on fluids for days, waiting to hear from Kathy. According to Kathy, she never got Bobbie's message -- her daughter took the call but didn't think it was that important and forgot about it. They died before Kathy could see them, but not before running up a sizable vet bill. I found out Saturday that she never worked it off. The shelter is too far away and it was just too difficult, geographically and emotionally.
Example 6: John. I met John first, back in 1981, and he introduced Kathy and me. John is a character, a very dear friend, who has always just taken me as I am. We both love celebrity gossip and music and movies. We both fall for the wrong men. We both like to party. We're good and enduring buds.
Kathy and John have been friends almost as long but nowhere near as smoothly. For Kathy is in love with John. Never mind that he's gay and 8 years her junior. She actually tried to seduce him once in her car, begging him to kiss her. ("It was such a kiss!" she told me.) She believes that his homosexuality is a choice, that they share a bond that transcends conventional ideas of gender roles, and she wants him. She also wants him to stop partying and is very vocal about it.
John believes he is who is he, and that while he loves Kathy as a friend, he has no interest in her sexually. None. This puts a strain on their relationship.
Now that she lives out in the faraway burbs with her daughter, Kathy has few opportunities to see John. He and I see and email and talk all the time. We're part of one another's lives. (Who else could I discuss Nancy Grace's sudden Whitney Houston obsession with?)
I think that's what set her off last Saturday. I reminded him about the book I lent him and he commented on my new hair streaks and that I was wearing pink (a color not prominent in my wardrobe) she seemed to feel left out. John and I are both in our 50s, she's 65, I promise you we weren't playing "Mean Girls" and trying to exclude her.
MY TOWN. MY JOB. MY CHURCH. MY HEALTH INSURANCE. MY HOME. MY CATS. MY FRIENDSHIP WITH JOHN. I think she just envies my life. And I'm tired of it.
Especially because it's not real! I have been very honest on this blog. My life is not perfect. I have my struggles, faults, fears and foibles. But I am responsible for myself and I built this life. Just as Kathy made her choices, and now she has to deal with them. And if seeing my life fills her with such envy that she can't behave well, then she can't be in my life.
Saw American Idiot last night and I loved the music. But oh, my, all those strobes! The flashing actually hurt my head. I blame it on my sinus infection. Or maybe it's just my advanced years.
We have been busy at work this week. Yea! While I miss being able to work out (here it is Thursday and I've only managed to get to the health club once), I find this pace comforting. Having a big, important project is a good thing in this economy!
But this ear trouble has been interrupting my sleep, and now the sudafed to treat it is doing the same, but more so. I'm meeting a friend for dinner and a show tonight and I just know I'll be freaking exhausted by the time I get home tonight.
I just may take tomorrow off. My boss is presenting our work tomorrow himself (well, la-de-dah!) and I don't think that the skeleton team that stays behind will need me. I could use some sleep. If it was acceptable, I'd lay my head down right now.
As we wait to see which actor will take home the award for Best Actor of 2011, let's look at some trivia about nominees and winners in years gone by.
Starting on the small screen doesn't mean you won't get a crack at Oscar gold. Here are 13 past Best Actor nominees who first did well on TV:
1) George Clooney (nominated in 2011, 2009, 2007) has a long TV resume, featuring shows as diverse as The Facts of Life, Roseanne and, most famously, ER.
2) Johnny Depp (nominated in 2003, 2004, 2007) was on 21 Jump Street.
3) Leonardo DiCaprio (nominated in 2006 and 2004) had a supporting role on Growing Pains.
4) Denzel Washington (winner in 2001, nominated in 1999 and 1992) was a doctor on Chicago Hope.
5) Jamie Foxx (won in 2004) was, of course, on The Jamie Foxx Show and In Living Color.
6) James Franco (nominated in 2010) has had a recurring role on General Hospital.
7) Will Smith (nominated in 2001 and 2006) was once The Fresh Prince of Bel Air.
8) John Travolta (nominated in 1994 and 1977) was a Sweathog on Welcome Back, Kotter.
9) Ryan Gosling (nominated in 2006) was a Mousketeer.
10) Bill Murray (nominated in 2003) was one of the Not Ready for Prime Time Players on Saturday Night Live.
11) Clint Eastwood (nominated in 2004 and 1992) was a cowboy on Rawhide.
12) Woody Harrelson (nominated in 1996) was Woody on Cheers.
13) Tom Hanks was most successful TV actor turned Best Actor of all (nominated in 2000, 1998 and 1988, winner in 1994 and 1993) as well as an art director in drag in Bosom Buddies.
I saw a nurse practitioner this afternoon who tells me my ear looks clear, so the problem is probably an infection deeper in, perhaps my sinuses and/or Eustachian tube. She gave me sudafed and predicted that in a few days, I'll be fine.
I was hoping for a silver bullet, some magic that would suddenly make me well. But I guess that's just not gonna happen.
Oh well. I didn't have to pay a cent for the visit, and I got a flu shot. So I guess this is a good time to take a moment and be grateful for my insurance.
It's been two weeks now that I've been waiting for my right ear to "pop." At night, when I lay on my side, I can actually hear my heart beat through my ear. And it's loud. Like Edgar Allen Poe/tell-tale heart loud. All this has been accompanied by an incipient little headache. So this evening I'm going to the Take Care Clinic at Walgreen's, in search of relief.
Do you remember that song from Rent? In "Seasons of Love," the cast sings, "525,600 minutes, 525,600 moments so dear, 525,600 minutes, how do you measure a year?"
Well, I did a little math and it's been (approx.) 2,321,400 minutes since Nailah Franklin died in September 2007. Her lover was indicted, arrested and jailed, but as of today there still hasn't been a trial.
I haven't forgotten about Nailah Franklin. I didn't know her at all, but her disappearance touched me. The advertising agency she had recently worked for is located less than a mile from mine and many of her former coworkers were asking my fellow commuters if we had seen her, if we were able to help join in the search. She had good girlfriends in the neighborhood where I live, and I saw flyers featuring pictures of her car and its license plate throughout town. I remember thinking how smart the latter was, since parking spaces are at a premium in this village and an abandoned car taking up space would sure as shit be noticed.
The search did not have a happy ending. Nailah was found dead 10 days later.
One year later, her accused killer -- and former boyfriend -- was facing the death penalty. He sounds like a clever guy because, as near as I can tell, he has managed to use that ultimate penalty as a reason to delay his trial. He burned up months and months saying he wanted to represent himself and needed to time to bring himself up to speed on how to do it. Then he burned up months and months saying he is changing his mind and needs a PD. As I understand it, he now has a public defender but that lawyer needs months and months to prepare for trial.
Tick, tick ... Minutes go by that he has on earth. And Nailah remains, forever, gone.
I am against the death penalty on principal and in practice, and this case helps illustrate why. When the state has the ultimate punishment on the table, of course, we want them to be fair and give the accused every possibility to defend himself. But then delays like this happen, and there's no justice for his victim.
And she is who I care about. So I'm going to close with some of the facts I learned about Nailah Franklin, back when her story was in the news regularly. I know it's Valentine's Day and all, but if you get a moment, say a prayer for this girl. She was much loved and deserves to NOT be forgotten.
Nailah Franklin was one of 5 daughters.
She graduated first from Homewood Flossmoor High School and then the University of Illinois. She spent 5 years at the prestigious ad agency, Leo Burnett.
She
moved to Eli Lilly in 2006 because she believed a sales job would help
give her greater control over her finances and career. She loved "all things Oprah."
She loved clothes and had a terrific sense of fashion.
Her mother told the Tribune
that she wondered why Nailah "always seemed to be in such a hurry to
live life. I think her spirit knew she had such a short time on this
Earth and she had to cram in as much living as possible."
An
older sister remembers her "little baby voice that she never grew out
of, but she was bold and spirited, headstrong and beautiful." Her father recalls "an exceptionally smart woman" and says that not a day goes by that he doesn't miss her.
A
younger sister smiles when she remembers CD/DVD collection because "it
was such a reflection of her -- a combination of old school songs by
Luther Vandross and Tae Bo exercise DVDs."
Her youngest sister tried to follow Nailah to Urbana but she wasn't accepted.
She treasures Nailah's words of encouragement as she applied to other
schools. "When we learned she had died, I considered quitting the
nursing program. But I remembered how much she believed in me and I
thought it was important to keep going." She volunteered at the Chicago Urban League.She was eulogized as "not a star, but a superstar."
"I'm so glad I never had a hysterectomy." That's what Kathy said to our friend John and me. Over her 65th birthday dinner. After asking us if we knew the address of Lover's Lane because she wants to buy herself a vibrator.
Aside from the fact that I'm really not crazy about eating mashed potatoes with the mental picture of a grandma who wears a knit cap that ties under the chin masturbating, it was a mean comment because she knows I had a TAH (total abdominal hysterectomy) back in September. She wanted to make sure that John and I know she still gets aroused whereas I am just a dried up old crone.
Part of her cruel shot across the bow stems from how she has always felt about John, who is gay. Because John and I have always accepted one another as we are, our relationship is very comfortable, while his and Kathy's is fraught with disappointment and thwarted, one-sided sexual tension.
This has been going since the autumn of 1981. That's more than 30 years. It's tiring.
To make matters worse, Kathy's made some bad choices that left her feeling very competitive with me. When we first met, she was a single mother in her 30s and I was in the
wildest phase of my 20s. We were both copywriters and she looked upon me
the way people look at puppies who haven't quite grown into their paws
yet. "Oh! Look at her antics! Isn't she cute!"
Then, right
around my 30th birthday, I began taking myself seriously as an
advertising writer. I won a couple of prestigious awards and started looking at each
new job as a wrung in the ladder. I wanted a career, not a paycheck. This is
the time when she decided to go out on her own, representing herself as a
free lancer rather than working for an agency. I tried to be
supportive. When I had to take a few days off to have my wisdom teeth
removed, I convinced my boss to hire Kathy as my replacement. It didn't
go well. I don't know all the reasons why -- my team just told Kathy she
didn't need to come in on Friday and begged me to, instead (swollen jaw
and all). Kathy said there were no hard feelings, but there were. She
resented me, or was embarrassed, and that's when the digs began. I was
building a niche for myself as a financial writer, and that was fine for
ME, but she
was too creative. She couldn't be bound by all those restrictions. She
was an artist, really, and was happier pursuing her own, more varied
clients. OK. Whatever. I wanted to do a good job, and in a very Becky
Bloomwood twist, financial writing actually comes easily to me (even if
my personal finances don't). Shortly thereafter, Kathy had to
file for bankruptcy. She made an innocent but incredibly costly mistake
on her taxes. The IRS didn't penalize her, but they did insist she pay
back taxes with interest -- after all, ignorance of the law is not an
excuse. She started having painful, menopause-related medical problems then, of course, when she
had no insurance.
It was at this time she began teasing me because I have a dentist (whom
she went to in an emergency when she was in more than a little pain) and a GP
and gyne and a shrink. It's
OK for ME to run to the doctor and take medication whenever something
bothers me, but she chooses to become more in touch with her own body,
listen to it, etc., without becoming a puppet of the medical
establishment. I avoid saying, "What you're really saying is that you're
pissed that I have insurance and you don't." But it's hard.
So she took a job at a local supermarket. In
the bread department. She went in planning just to log enough hours to
qualify for insurance. But it turned out to be much more than that.
Kathy was in her element. Because by now she was over 50 and a
grandmother, she was more mature than a lot of the other checkers and
stock people in the store. She was soon a manager, in charge of
schedules and new employee orientation, etc. Then she became the store's
liaison with the community -- scheduling the charity "shop and share
days," making sure that the store was fair to all the Girl and Boy Scout
troops when it came to selling out cookies or popcorn out front, giving
tours of the store and explaining the value of organics to school
children or cooking classes. She was happy and she felt she was
contributing.
The store was suddenly under new management, and
Kathy had a hard time adjusting. That's when she decided to be her own
boss again, so she went into real estate. She lost her group insurance
benefits with this move, but she thought that with menopause her health
problems were behind her. Besides, real estate was the new dot-com. Property
values were rising and buyers were in bidding wars for terrific
properties. How could she not succeed?
I showed my faith in her by having her handle my condo purchase. This is my first home and the most expensive thing I have ever -- will ever -- buy. And I was her very first client, her first closing.
Yet
she didn't couldn't make that work, either. Unable to pay rent on her own apartment, she's been sleeping in the dining room of her adult daughter's house. (I bet her daughter will be thrilled to hear that vibrator humming in her dining room, huh?) Her daughter wouldn't allow her to bring her two tabby cats along, so I found her a shelter that would "foster" them, free of charge, until she could reclaim them. The cats came down with a virus and died. Because of her tenuous finances, Kathy is unable to repay the shelter for the vet bills her cats ran up. I have kept quiet about this because I know her grief. But there's something crummy about sticking a charity will an expense like that.
So that's how her life looks at 65. And, even though I'm a big fat moo-cow, she still feels the need to compete with me. Lash out at me. It's mean and it's hard to take.
I can't do this anymore for a while.
I'm inspired by this, something I found over at Snarky Pants' ages ago. I'm not going to play with Kathy anymore. Not for a long while.
