Mayor Daley does it up right on St. Patrick's Day, as evidenced by the fountains at Daley Plaza and the ring around the Hancock. I think it's adorable. 364 days a year I'm 12% Irish. But today, I'm all in.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Not just the Chicago River
Mayor Daley does it up right on St. Patrick's Day, as evidenced by the fountains at Daley Plaza and the ring around the Hancock. I think it's adorable. 364 days a year I'm 12% Irish. But today, I'm all in.
Too cute!
This morning I walked to work behind a mom and daughter. In one hand, Mom held a Hello, Kitty backpack. In the other hand she held her little girl's fingers. They were in deep discussion about something. It touched me to see the rapt attention they were paying to one another, and how seriously Mom seemed to take her daughter's input.
The little girl -- about 5, I guess -- caught sight of me and kept stealing glances of me in the store windows we three were passing. I think she was scandalized because I was drinking Coke for breakfast. And she should be. Shame on me!
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
The Right Man for the Job
After a rather pissy day at work, I came home and watched an hour of American Idol (Rolling Stones night; a bad but amusing idea), spent an hour with my shrink, who reassured me that I'm not quite as batshit as I believe I am and then went to the health club for a little cardio.
I felt good. Just as I thought my day was turning around, I was cruelly felled by disease. Yes, I am suffering from voracious ravenousitis. I know the symptoms:
• My fourth meal of the day isn't enough
• Cheese, carbs and salt are all that I can think of
• If I must, I'll get dressed and go off in search of Cheez-Its
Fortunately I have the name of a specialist who successfully treats this malady:
I felt good. Just as I thought my day was turning around, I was cruelly felled by disease. Yes, I am suffering from voracious ravenousitis. I know the symptoms:
• My fourth meal of the day isn't enough
• Cheese, carbs and salt are all that I can think of
• If I must, I'll get dressed and go off in search of Cheez-Its
Fortunately I have the name of a specialist who successfully treats this malady:
Dr. Bombay, Dr. Bombay! Emergency, emergency! Come right away!
Monday, March 15, 2010
Pet Therapy
I was exhausted yesterday and my stomach was unpleasant this morning so I called in sick, when back to bed and proved it by sleeping for more than an hour. When I woke up, I found myself surrounded by all three cats. This is very not like them, especially Charlotte, who usually cannot abide Joey. I guess it was the novelty of having me home and still so late in the morning. Maybe they sensed I wasn't feeling well. At any rate, they were so cute I didn't want to disturb them so I stay very still and then fell back asleep.
When I woke up again, I felt better. I credit my three feline physicians.
When I woke up again, I felt better. I credit my three feline physicians.
Movie Monday -- Date Night
Share your best or worst movie date, movies featuring movie dates or how you use movies for dates these days, linking back here at The Bumbles.
It's not a remotely sexy or romantic movie, yet it led to the date where I knew he cared about me. We went to see a matinee of JFK. It was clear and sunny when we went into the theater, but that's a very long movie and the sky was cloudy and threatening when we left.
En route to the parking lot, the sky opened and dumped a ton of water on us. We ducked into the nearest bar, ordered a pair of Sam Adams', and started talking about the movie. And talking. And talking.
As one who has read Death of a President more than once, I was very prepared to discuss how factually inaccurate the Oliver Stone epic is. The gentleman I was with was my match in terms of geekiness and he argued that the film didn't have to be accurate, it was cinematically solid. We argued the artist's responsibility to the truth -- moving from bottles to pitcher and from pretzels to sandwiches. The bar began to fill up and I realized I was very underdressed compared to the rest of the clientele. In the ladies room I saw the toll the rain had taken on me. My hair was frizzed out and my eye makeup had washed away. I was mortified to realize I'd been sitting there with him for hours looking like this!
When I got headed back to the table, I saw two -- two -- predatory pretty young things actually leaning on our table for my date's benefit. Naturally I was miserable.
"Too strident. Too old. Too plain. Too geeky. Too serious." That's how I was bemoaning my date performance on the way back tot he table. I was quite sure the girls making time with my guy could somehow get through an evening without using phrases like, "Warren Commission" and "book depository."
When I got back to the table, all he said to his new friends was, "Excuse me," as he pulled out my chair for me and continued the conversation just where we left it. My internal monolog switched to, "He likes me! He likes me! He likes me!"
It's not a remotely sexy or romantic movie, yet it led to the date where I knew he cared about me. We went to see a matinee of JFK. It was clear and sunny when we went into the theater, but that's a very long movie and the sky was cloudy and threatening when we left.
En route to the parking lot, the sky opened and dumped a ton of water on us. We ducked into the nearest bar, ordered a pair of Sam Adams', and started talking about the movie. And talking. And talking.
As one who has read Death of a President more than once, I was very prepared to discuss how factually inaccurate the Oliver Stone epic is. The gentleman I was with was my match in terms of geekiness and he argued that the film didn't have to be accurate, it was cinematically solid. We argued the artist's responsibility to the truth -- moving from bottles to pitcher and from pretzels to sandwiches. The bar began to fill up and I realized I was very underdressed compared to the rest of the clientele. In the ladies room I saw the toll the rain had taken on me. My hair was frizzed out and my eye makeup had washed away. I was mortified to realize I'd been sitting there with him for hours looking like this!
When I got headed back to the table, I saw two -- two -- predatory pretty young things actually leaning on our table for my date's benefit. Naturally I was miserable.
"Too strident. Too old. Too plain. Too geeky. Too serious." That's how I was bemoaning my date performance on the way back tot he table. I was quite sure the girls making time with my guy could somehow get through an evening without using phrases like, "Warren Commission" and "book depository."
When I got back to the table, all he said to his new friends was, "Excuse me," as he pulled out my chair for me and continued the conversation just where we left it. My internal monolog switched to, "He likes me! He likes me! He likes me!"
Uncle Update
When I visited my mom yesterday, I looked at the paperwork he was served with and it's obvious that the one instigating all this is his his only daughter, my cousin. Their father/daughter relationship has always been complicated, much of it frankly his fault, so I don't judge. She knows all his money is gone because he has called her, asking for the coins he had given her sons/his grandchildren. My guess is that she wants to force him to sell his house before he loses it, and then use the proceeds to pay for his managed care.
It's cold to see it written out, portraying my once-dynamic, wealthy uncle as incompetent. But he has run through $2 million in two years, most of it at the gambling boat. And while he gave up his handguns long ago, he still has rifles. So I understand that what she is trying to do is for the best.
But what of Bennie, the gray/white striped cat he dotes on? I was going to offer to take Bennie. I'm good with critters and besides, it would be nice to offer to do something for him now, when he has no money, so I can repay the kindnesses he has done for me without him suspecting my motives. But my mom and I talked about it, and it may be best for her to take Bennie, if need be. She has more room and her heart is still store over the loss of her Lucy.
It's cold to see it written out, portraying my once-dynamic, wealthy uncle as incompetent. But he has run through $2 million in two years, most of it at the gambling boat. And while he gave up his handguns long ago, he still has rifles. So I understand that what she is trying to do is for the best.
But what of Bennie, the gray/white striped cat he dotes on? I was going to offer to take Bennie. I'm good with critters and besides, it would be nice to offer to do something for him now, when he has no money, so I can repay the kindnesses he has done for me without him suspecting my motives. But my mom and I talked about it, and it may be best for her to take Bennie, if need be. She has more room and her heart is still store over the loss of her Lucy.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Greetings from a slug
Maybe it's because last night we set the clocks forward, but today I've been beat all day.
Went home to visit my mom and play with my nephew. En route I stopped at CVS to pick up some picture frames. My intention was to give my mom a framed photo of my award-winning niece that I ordered from her local paper. After all, how better to cheer up a grandma than with a framed 8x10 of her granddaughter? I also bought a bottle of vodka and a can of peas (69¢) for the food pantry. On the way out I was intercepted by a Girl Scout who only had peanut butter sandwich cookies left. Since her troop was from my old school, how could I refuse?
I was so happy. I was wearing my official Cubs jacket. I was listening to my favorite Amy Winehouse song on my iPod. The sun was shining. I had a bag full of good deeds.
Then, like the clutz I am, I tripped in the street. My foot got caught in a pot hole and POW. Down I went, landing on the vodka, picture frames, peas and Girl Scout cookies. My initial thought was, "My jacket! My iPod!" Once I confirmed my tunes and my Cubbie blue were OK, I realized I hurt and much had been busted. The vodka bottle seemed severed. The Girl Scout cookies were now booze soaked. I was too eager to get to my mom's and take stock of my wounds to notice that I'd also busted the frame. Thank God the 69¢ can of peas was OK!
This is the second spill I've taken over the last 7 months. When I fell last year while carrying my microwave, it was on rain-slicked streets. It was today, too. I was just so distracted by the sun and the spring I forgot about yesterday's rain and the pools of melted snow and the impact it has the streets, I simply wasn't watching where I was going. Dumb! Dumb! Dumb!
It cheered up my mom to see me anyway. My nephew got to show off his pinewood derby racer -- and his two awards (one for craftsmanship, one for concept), thank you very much. My niece even stopped by for a minute and I was able to embarrass her by fussing over her photos.
I took my nephew for a walk, to buy more vodka, to enjoy a little pizza, and to talk alone for a moment because he was with my mom on the day she put her cat to sleep. He's only 10 and can be very sensitive, so I wanted to make sure he was at peace with all that went on. I also told him what a comfort he was to Grandma.
Now I'm home. And I'm beat. No laundry for me tonight, maybe not this week. I didn't hem any of my new slacks, either. Bad gal. Lazy gal. Tired old gal.
I'm watching the season premiere Celebrity Apprentice as I post this. Our former governor is like the blood blister I now have on my thumb -- creepy but fascinating. Then I think I'm going to sleep.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Productive, yet tiring
A chilly, rainy Saturday. A looooong chilly, rainy Saturday.
The day started with a trip to the dentist for my annual cleaning and x-rays. Who among us doesn't enjoy having that pick stuck in our gums? But at least I expected that. The exciting new twist was the cavity that somehow developed under a decades-old porcelain crown. Near the front. Where it's visible. So I have to get it repaired ... to the tune of approximately $660.
I shouldn't complain. That's the worst-case scenario estimate and besides, without insurance it would be $1,270. But the whole situation makes me nervous because:
1) I have to get it done in a timely manner, because I may lose my job, which means I may not have good dental insurance much longer, and …
2) It's got to be done in an esthetically appealing way because I may be interviewing again, and I'm a 50-something in a young person's industry. Objectively speaking, I think I look 45. I'd never lie about my age, but I don't encourage anyone to do the math while they're looking at my rez. A smile with bad teeth can age you.
I know, I know … with this new bill it's probably irresponsible to go off on my spa holiday. But I'm taking the $700 from my existing I'm-paying-down-my-credit-cards fund and putting it aside for my brand-new gotta-get-teeth-fixed fund. This has been a rough year so far, and I'm not expecting it to get tons better. So I'm going to Williamsburg. The alone time could just recharge my battery and give me the new insights my life is crying out for. I'm getting my tooth fixed the first Saturday I'm back.
So this was state of my mind when I went off to The Carson's Goodwill Sale. I got three pairs of slacks, a dress-it-up cardigan and a fully-lined gray blazer. That's 5 pieces/3 outifits suitable for client meetings and interviews. Suggested retail price: $255. Courtesy of Carson's discounts and my Goodwill coupons: $130.11. I am now bowing deeply, acknowledging the applause that are undoubtedly coming my way. I also used one of the coupons to buy my oldest friend body lotion in the Vera Wang scent she enjoys so much. It cost more than I wanted to spend, but it never goes on sale and at least with the coupon I was able to save $7.50. We don't exchange gifts again for months, but again, I might not be employed by then and I don't want that to spoil our celebration.
I'm sick of thinking about money! And going from dentist to department store to drug store ("Your prescriptions are ready for pickup") and from bus to train back to bus in all this cold drizzle takes a lot out of a gal.
On a happier note, I heard from my best friend again yesterday. He now checks in with me, via email, every Friday. Yesterday he was amusing, and even if our contact is still superficial at least it's more comfortable and consistent. I do know he cares what's going on in my life and, while I don't know what's really going on in his life, he'll tell me when he thinks the time is right. That's enough for me.
The day started with a trip to the dentist for my annual cleaning and x-rays. Who among us doesn't enjoy having that pick stuck in our gums? But at least I expected that. The exciting new twist was the cavity that somehow developed under a decades-old porcelain crown. Near the front. Where it's visible. So I have to get it repaired ... to the tune of approximately $660.
I shouldn't complain. That's the worst-case scenario estimate and besides, without insurance it would be $1,270. But the whole situation makes me nervous because:
1) I have to get it done in a timely manner, because I may lose my job, which means I may not have good dental insurance much longer, and …
2) It's got to be done in an esthetically appealing way because I may be interviewing again, and I'm a 50-something in a young person's industry. Objectively speaking, I think I look 45. I'd never lie about my age, but I don't encourage anyone to do the math while they're looking at my rez. A smile with bad teeth can age you.
I know, I know … with this new bill it's probably irresponsible to go off on my spa holiday. But I'm taking the $700 from my existing I'm-paying-down-my-credit-cards fund and putting it aside for my brand-new gotta-get-teeth-fixed fund. This has been a rough year so far, and I'm not expecting it to get tons better. So I'm going to Williamsburg. The alone time could just recharge my battery and give me the new insights my life is crying out for. I'm getting my tooth fixed the first Saturday I'm back.
So this was state of my mind when I went off to The Carson's Goodwill Sale. I got three pairs of slacks, a dress-it-up cardigan and a fully-lined gray blazer. That's 5 pieces/3 outifits suitable for client meetings and interviews. Suggested retail price: $255. Courtesy of Carson's discounts and my Goodwill coupons: $130.11. I am now bowing deeply, acknowledging the applause that are undoubtedly coming my way. I also used one of the coupons to buy my oldest friend body lotion in the Vera Wang scent she enjoys so much. It cost more than I wanted to spend, but it never goes on sale and at least with the coupon I was able to save $7.50. We don't exchange gifts again for months, but again, I might not be employed by then and I don't want that to spoil our celebration.
I'm sick of thinking about money! And going from dentist to department store to drug store ("Your prescriptions are ready for pickup") and from bus to train back to bus in all this cold drizzle takes a lot out of a gal.
On a happier note, I heard from my best friend again yesterday. He now checks in with me, via email, every Friday. Yesterday he was amusing, and even if our contact is still superficial at least it's more comfortable and consistent. I do know he cares what's going on in my life and, while I don't know what's really going on in his life, he'll tell me when he thinks the time is right. That's enough for me.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Saturday 9
Saturday 9: Gimme Three Steps
1. Are you the type of person who jumps into new ventures or do you prefer baby steps? Both. I think of it like bowling: It's baby steps until my toes touch the line, and then I'm all in.
2. Who do you feel believes in you the most? The answer depends on whether the situation is personal or professional.
3. When was the last time you were on a stage? Junior high school.
4. Tell us about the worst boss you ever had. It's a toss up. The first insisted every one of her office supplies (right down to post-it notes and paperclips) be pink and told me that she believed we reacted strongly to one another because because we were adversaries in a past life and if we didn't resolve it this time around we were destined to clash for all eternity. The second one did no work whatsoever and actually slept through client meetings ... in front of the client.
5. If the NCAA Men's or Women's Final Four basketball tournament was played in your hometown arena or within easy driving distance from where you live, would you try to attend one of the three games? No. I'm sorry because it sounds almost unAmerican, but I don't give a crap about the NCAA.
6. Of all the clothes you own, what do you feel most comfortable wearing, and why? Jeans. Because they're jeans.
7. On what television show—either past or present—would you like to make to make a guest appearance, and what role would you play? Here Come the Brides. I'd like to be one of the lasses from New Bedford who travels to Bridal Veil Mountain.
8. St. Patrick's Day is on Wednesday March 17th. Do you celebrate and wear green? Drink Green Beer? Ignore it? I will wear green and will most likely toast the day with an alcoholic beverage.
9. If a leprechaun told you that you could have any amount of money from his pot of gold but it had to be a specified amount for a specified item, how much would you ask for and what would it be for? $2,191. That would pay for a trip to Key West over New Year's, staying in a hotel right there on Duval. Please let the leprechaun know it will only cost more the closer we get to the holidays, so we should act now.
1. Are you the type of person who jumps into new ventures or do you prefer baby steps? Both. I think of it like bowling: It's baby steps until my toes touch the line, and then I'm all in.
2. Who do you feel believes in you the most? The answer depends on whether the situation is personal or professional.
3. When was the last time you were on a stage? Junior high school.
4. Tell us about the worst boss you ever had. It's a toss up. The first insisted every one of her office supplies (right down to post-it notes and paperclips) be pink and told me that she believed we reacted strongly to one another because because we were adversaries in a past life and if we didn't resolve it this time around we were destined to clash for all eternity. The second one did no work whatsoever and actually slept through client meetings ... in front of the client.
5. If the NCAA Men's or Women's Final Four basketball tournament was played in your hometown arena or within easy driving distance from where you live, would you try to attend one of the three games? No. I'm sorry because it sounds almost unAmerican, but I don't give a crap about the NCAA.
6. Of all the clothes you own, what do you feel most comfortable wearing, and why? Jeans. Because they're jeans.
7. On what television show—either past or present—would you like to make to make a guest appearance, and what role would you play? Here Come the Brides. I'd like to be one of the lasses from New Bedford who travels to Bridal Veil Mountain.
8. St. Patrick's Day is on Wednesday March 17th. Do you celebrate and wear green? Drink Green Beer? Ignore it? I will wear green and will most likely toast the day with an alcoholic beverage.
9. If a leprechaun told you that you could have any amount of money from his pot of gold but it had to be a specified amount for a specified item, how much would you ask for and what would it be for? $2,191. That would pay for a trip to Key West over New Year's, staying in a hotel right there on Duval. Please let the leprechaun know it will only cost more the closer we get to the holidays, so we should act now.
My favorite sale of the year
The Carson's* Goodwill Sale! Every item of clothing or textiles (I think this means towels, throw rugs, etc.) you bring to Carson's gets you a coupon for 20% that's good until 3/24. That's all there is to it. Really, it's that simple.
Almost everything in the store is included in the Goodwill Sale -- EVEN COSMETICS!!!!! Which means I can replenish my supply of Clinique Eye Repairwear.
So I get to save, and I get to help Goodwill, which is one of my favorite charities.
Today I participated in a Michigan Avenue event to publicize the sale. A Goodwill truck was parked at Michigan and Illinois and I dropped off three blouses. In return the PR representative peeled off multiple coupons. I whispered that she'd handed me waaaay more than the 3 I deserved in exchange for my 3 blouses, but she told me to "enjoy them." And so I shall!
*aka Bergner's or The Bon-Ton Goodwill Sale
Thursday, March 11, 2010
I'm Conflicted!
Lilly has been my favorite since I first heard her sing "Fixing a Hole." I was shocked to see her facing
elimination tonight, and wasn't crazy about the fact that she was pitted against young Katie, whose voice has a nice, chill Amy Winehouse quality (but, since she's 16, she has none of Amy's toxic baggage).
But then, as I watched Lilly waiting for the results, she just looked kinda smug, like there was no way she wasn't coming back next week, no way she wasn't better than this Katie kid. And suddenly I didn't like her, regardless of her terrific performances, so I was glad Katie made it to the next round.
But now that Lilly has been sent home, I'm sure I will miss her.
And I think I take American Idol entirely too seriously.
elimination tonight, and wasn't crazy about the fact that she was pitted against young Katie, whose voice has a nice, chill Amy Winehouse quality (but, since she's 16, she has none of Amy's toxic baggage).But then, as I watched Lilly waiting for the results, she just looked kinda smug, like there was no way she wasn't coming back next week, no way she wasn't better than this Katie kid. And suddenly I didn't like her, regardless of her terrific performances, so I was glad Katie made it to the next round.
But now that Lilly has been sent home, I'm sure I will miss her.
And I think I take American Idol entirely too seriously.
Poor Mom
Her beloved cat, Lucy, died this week. My mom had to have her put to sleep. The tubby old calico was suffering from massive kidney failure.
The timing of this is cruel, because she's already dealing with the painful decline of her baby brother, my uncle. He's being dragged into court later this month to prove he's not an incompetent invalid, and I think we're resigned to the fact that he won't be able to prove any such thing.
Or maybe it's not cruel. Perhaps the double whammy makes both situations somehow easier to take. Maybe dealing with the sudden passing of lovable old Lucy distracts her from the pain of watching her kid brother unravel so publicly. Or maybe knowing she should be worrying about my uncle keeps her from dwelling on the loss of her feline friend, the one who always raced to accompany her down the hall to her bedroom and bathroom ("the other end of the house," as we kids used to refer to my parents' rooms when we still lived at home).
Do you have to be a pet lover to appreciate how suddenly lonely an everyday thing like a walk down the hall becomes when you're used to having a furry companion at your side?
Observations on the nature of time
1) I arrived at the office on time today. 9:00. And discovered nothing of import goes on here before 9:45 anyway.
2) The coin apparatus on the vending machine in the ladies' room is broken and consequently tampons are free. Sure. NOW it happens, when I no longer use tampons. This makes me feel a little sad.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
I know I shouldn't laugh, but I CAN'T HELP IT!!!
Before this week, I didn't even know Rep. Eric Massa (D-NY) existed. Yet today I can't get him out of my mind.
First he resigned because he kinda had cancer. Now, maybe not.
Then he resigned because Rahm Emmanuel "bothered him" in the shower. "I am showering, naked as a jaybird," Massa claimed earlier this week, "and here comes Rahm Emanuel, not even with a towel wrapped round his tush, poking his finger in my chest, yelling at me because I wasn't going to vote for the president's budget. Do you know how awkward it is to have a political argument with a naked man?"
First he resigned because he kinda had cancer. Now, maybe not.
Then he resigned because Rahm Emmanuel "bothered him" in the shower. "I am showering, naked as a jaybird," Massa claimed earlier this week, "and here comes Rahm Emanuel, not even with a towel wrapped round his tush, poking his finger in my chest, yelling at me because I wasn't going to vote for the president's budget. Do you know how awkward it is to have a political argument with a naked man?"
Now it looks like a sexual harassment scandal may have been behind his resignation. Although, as Dana Milbank reports, Massa says it's all being taken out of context.
“Now they’re saying I groped a male staffer,” he volunteered. “Yeah, I did. Not only did I grope him, I tickled him until he couldn’t breathe and then four guys jumped on top of me. It was my 50th birthday.”
No, unfortunately Mrs. Massa was not able to attend this ticklefest because, "This was in a townhouse; w
e all lived together, all the bachelors and me,” Massa explained.
I hope that, for his next big birthday when he turns 55, now-former Rep. Massa celebrates with an invitation-only cruise with entertainment provided by the reunited Village People. We know he loves the sea and is proud of his service. That's why, when Larry King asked Massa if he was gay, his response was, "Ask my wife. Ask my friends. Ask the 10,000 sailors I served with in the Navy."
Poor kid
This is how I'll remember Corey Haim: Jake, the confused child of divorce in Murphy's Romance, learning the painful lesson that the father he loves may not be a man he can respect.
Tuesday, March 09, 2010
Ten Inspiring Women
I haven't stolen anything from Kwizgiver in a long time, and International Women's Day seems like just the time to resume swiping her posts.
Now, in the order that they occur to me, are ten women who inspire me.
1) Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy Onassis. The combination of impeccable manners and true grit made her indomitable. She managed to be strong without compromising her femininity and she lived her life her own way."To thine own self be true."
2) Lillian Hellman. The Little Foxes. Pentimento. The Children's Hour. Scoundrel Time. Those titles show that the only stories to compete with the ones she created are the ones she lived.
3) Louisa Mae Alcott. She gave us Jo March, and all those Little Women. Girls who grew to be women, exhibiting everyday heroism and integrity every step of the way. Role models for more than a century, and undoubtedly for little girls who haven't even been born yet.
4) Anne Sullivan Macy. Beloved Teacher, a woman who overcame poverty, the loss of her parents and most of her sight to give Helen Keller a voice.
5) Elizabeth Edwards. I know, I know … Her messy personal life has been splashed all over the tabloids. But Saving Graces really did touch me. That memoir actually changed the way I look at life and relationships. Here I am, a stubbornly proud middle-aged pudge, and Elizabeth Edwards got through to me by being so nakedly candid about her life that I sometimes had to put the book down. She endured the unendurable by reaching out, "finding solace and strength from friends and strangers," and I'm now trying to incorporate that into my own life. At times with success. I am grateful to her, and she is one of the few strangers that I really do include in my prayers.
6) Nancy Dickerson. In the 1960s -- when Katie Couric was still in gra
mmar school -- Nancy Dickerson was covering Washington for NBC. Her regular appearance on the news was so unusual, and her voice was so deep and resonant, that as a little gal, I put my toys down and paid attention to her. Everything about her seemed important. As I got older, I began to understand how rare her accomplishment was, reporting on government when every other female journalist was stuck with fashion or cooking, and how hard she worked. An amazing trailblazer, I wish she was appreciated more. Her son, John Dickerson, wrote a terrific book about her -- On Her Trail.
7) Eleanor Roosevelt. She got so much grief from the public in life: she was ugly, she was pushy, her voice was grating … Yet today she is revered and even has her own statue at the FDR Memorial. I think it's a testament to how correctly her personal compass was calibrated. She went her own way and did what she had to do, what had to be done. Her country, and I, are grateful.
8) Abigail Adams. Yes, yet another First Lady! I'm just learning about this one. She was a tremendous influence on her husband and his friends -- dudes like Jefferson and Franklin -- which means she has had a tremendous influence on our whole history. It was unusual for a woman in the 18th century to be taken so seriously. She wrote beautifully, too. Her letters to her "dear friend," husband John, are enlightening and even romantic. We're fortunate that we had a woman with such a sharp mind and such a sharp quill observing and chronicling the beginning of our country.
9) Miep Gies. Just as without Teacher, we wouldn't have Helen Keller's words, without Miep, we wouldn't have Anne Frank's. She helped care for the Frank family, at great personal risk, while they were in hiding and saved Anne's diary after the family's arrest. She died this year, at age 100. There's something wonderful about that. The courageous woman who gave us the most famous "diary of a young girl" lived to be a very old woman. God bless her.
10) Barbra Streisand. Yes, I was annoyed by her on this year's Oscars, too. But when I was in high school, she was a revelation. She was everywhere -- on the radio and in the movie theaters with The Way We Were. As I wrote in a post earlier this year,* she "was abrasive, noisy, idiosyncratic, and, in the final analysis, happier (than Golden Boy Redford). Barbra Streisand gave me permission. She showed by example that I could be an outsider who marched to my own drummer and still get the guy -- if only for a little while. And if he can't handle all that goes with being with ME, as I am, maybe he's not worth being with." Important then, important now.
*Hey! If I can steal the idea for this post from Kwiz, I can certainly recycle some of the content from my own blog!
Now, in the order that they occur to me, are ten women who inspire me.
1) Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy Onassis. The combination of impeccable manners and true grit made her indomitable. She managed to be strong without compromising her femininity and she lived her life her own way."To thine own self be true."
2) Lillian Hellman. The Little Foxes. Pentimento. The Children's Hour. Scoundrel Time. Those titles show that the only stories to compete with the ones she created are the ones she lived.
3) Louisa Mae Alcott. She gave us Jo March, and all those Little Women. Girls who grew to be women, exhibiting everyday heroism and integrity every step of the way. Role models for more than a century, and undoubtedly for little girls who haven't even been born yet.
4) Anne Sullivan Macy. Beloved Teacher, a woman who overcame poverty, the loss of her parents and most of her sight to give Helen Keller a voice.
5) Elizabeth Edwards. I know, I know … Her messy personal life has been splashed all over the tabloids. But Saving Graces really did touch me. That memoir actually changed the way I look at life and relationships. Here I am, a stubbornly proud middle-aged pudge, and Elizabeth Edwards got through to me by being so nakedly candid about her life that I sometimes had to put the book down. She endured the unendurable by reaching out, "finding solace and strength from friends and strangers," and I'm now trying to incorporate that into my own life. At times with success. I am grateful to her, and she is one of the few strangers that I really do include in my prayers.
6) Nancy Dickerson. In the 1960s -- when Katie Couric was still in gra
mmar school -- Nancy Dickerson was covering Washington for NBC. Her regular appearance on the news was so unusual, and her voice was so deep and resonant, that as a little gal, I put my toys down and paid attention to her. Everything about her seemed important. As I got older, I began to understand how rare her accomplishment was, reporting on government when every other female journalist was stuck with fashion or cooking, and how hard she worked. An amazing trailblazer, I wish she was appreciated more. Her son, John Dickerson, wrote a terrific book about her -- On Her Trail.7) Eleanor Roosevelt. She got so much grief from the public in life: she was ugly, she was pushy, her voice was grating … Yet today she is revered and even has her own statue at the FDR Memorial. I think it's a testament to how correctly her personal compass was calibrated. She went her own way and did what she had to do, what had to be done. Her country, and I, are grateful.
8) Abigail Adams. Yes, yet another First Lady! I'm just learning about this one. She was a tremendous influence on her husband and his friends -- dudes like Jefferson and Franklin -- which means she has had a tremendous influence on our whole history. It was unusual for a woman in the 18th century to be taken so seriously. She wrote beautifully, too. Her letters to her "dear friend," husband John, are enlightening and even romantic. We're fortunate that we had a woman with such a sharp mind and such a sharp quill observing and chronicling the beginning of our country.
9) Miep Gies. Just as without Teacher, we wouldn't have Helen Keller's words, without Miep, we wouldn't have Anne Frank's. She helped care for the Frank family, at great personal risk, while they were in hiding and saved Anne's diary after the family's arrest. She died this year, at age 100. There's something wonderful about that. The courageous woman who gave us the most famous "diary of a young girl" lived to be a very old woman. God bless her.
10) Barbra Streisand. Yes, I was annoyed by her on this year's Oscars, too. But when I was in high school, she was a revelation. She was everywhere -- on the radio and in the movie theaters with The Way We Were. As I wrote in a post earlier this year,* she "was abrasive, noisy, idiosyncratic, and, in the final analysis, happier (than Golden Boy Redford). Barbra Streisand gave me permission. She showed by example that I could be an outsider who marched to my own drummer and still get the guy -- if only for a little while. And if he can't handle all that goes with being with ME, as I am, maybe he's not worth being with." Important then, important now.
*Hey! If I can steal the idea for this post from Kwiz, I can certainly recycle some of the content from my own blog!
All I want now is a nap
That's what happens when you eat about a dozen thin mints in one sitting. Damn you, you cute Girl Scouts selling them in the lobby!
THE QUEEN'S MEME
To play along, click here. Your participation means a great deal to our Queen.
1. If I never see Karl Rove again it will be too soon.
2. Should I meet my Maker tomorrow, I would ask for one more day on earth to straighten up so my mom won't find what I keep in "the naughty drawer."
3. Never in my life have I been less engaged in a meeting than I was today.
4. I should always allow more time to get ready in the morning; I can always find something else to do.
5. I should've never listened to a certain lover while under the influence of well ... him; he had a way.
6. QUESTION SIX DELETED BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE A CAR
7. I should spend more money on accessories, like purses because it makes me happy. I should spend less money on necessities, like toilet paper and light bulbs, because it makes me sad.
8. Eye makeup should never be shared with strangers.
9. I should tell "Ralph" from LA Fitness that I never really meant to take a tour his club, I just took his card so he would leave me alone.
10. Never in a million years would I want you to know the exact contents of "the naughty drawer," or how quickly I go through batteries,
Monday, March 08, 2010
Turns out he's broke
My uncle, that is. As near as anyone can tell, he's blown through $2 million in the last two years.
He can't travel, he hasn't given much away, and no, it wasn't heavy stock market losses. I dearly wish it was one of those things, because the truth just confirms my fears that his mind is tapioca.
He blew it gambling
at the Grand Victoria Casino.
at the Grand Victoria Casino.
He won't go to doctors, he hasn't monitored his health, but he can somehow make it to the slots.
While the mental deterioration this indicates scares me, I'm also ambivalent about it. Because I am still going to promise him that his beloved Bennie, an aloof old gray tabby, is forever comfortable and welcome in my home. And this will be one of the first things I've been able to do for him that he knows is because I love him and appreciate the kindnesses he has shown me over the years, not because I'm trying to get into the will.
I have a magnet on my refrigerator that says, "My family is a freak show without the tent." I feel that way these days. I really do.
Movie Monday
Share your thoughts and link back here to the Bumbles.
This week's movie topic is all about Oscar...
Last night's show provided no surprises as far as who won, but the show itself did surprise and delight me. Most of the nominees were actually there, looking fine and behaving like good sports. (Remember the year when Russell Crowe just sat there like a gloomy gus?) The John Hughes tribute montage was lovely. And most of all, Steve Martin, Alec Baldwin and Neil Patrick Harris were so irreverent they were downright subversive. From NPH's song:
Why wouldn't Crosby give up Hope?
Why does Harold call Kumar when he scores dope?
And why does a prisoner drop the soap?
'Cause no one wants to do it alone
So go, go Baldwin and Martin
The biggest pair since Dolly Parton
The show's really started
And no one wants to do it alone
Bad taste? Perhaps. But it heralded an attitude adjustment this too-often self-indulgent, self-congratulatory show needed. Bravo!
This week's movie topic is all about Oscar...
Last night's show provided no surprises as far as who won, but the show itself did surprise and delight me. Most of the nominees were actually there, looking fine and behaving like good sports. (Remember the year when Russell Crowe just sat there like a gloomy gus?) The John Hughes tribute montage was lovely. And most of all, Steve Martin, Alec Baldwin and Neil Patrick Harris were so irreverent they were downright subversive. From NPH's song:
Why wouldn't Crosby give up Hope?
Why does Harold call Kumar when he scores dope?
And why does a prisoner drop the soap?
'Cause no one wants to do it alone
So go, go Baldwin and Martin
The biggest pair since Dolly Parton
The show's really started
And no one wants to do it alone
Bad taste? Perhaps. But it heralded an attitude adjustment this too-often self-indulgent, self-congratulatory show needed. Bravo!
Sunday, March 07, 2010
A Sad Transition
My uncle has been many people during this not-quite-70 years here on earth: child of divorce, bratty brother, troubled teen, high school father, inductee, PFC, world traveler, veteran, entrepreneur, millionaire, ski aficionado, 10k racer, lover, husband, stepfather, grandfather, widower, Parkinson's sufferer and now ... incompetent invalid.
His only child, his daughter, is taking him to court soon, forcing him to face the fact that he can no longer make decisions regarding his own life. She's right.
He has two caregivers, a pair of sisters he met through church, who have no health care training and speak little English. While they care for him compassionately, they are not qualified and, truth to tell, he chose them because he can boss them around and make sure he does what he wants to do, rather than what he should do for his health.
This was supposed to be a temporary arrangement, but it's gone on for two years. They do not monitor his meds, they do not require him to get exercise or see his doctors, they do not schedule regular activities for him ... He complains all the time about how much they cost, but no one knows for sure what he's paying them. I am in no way implying that they are intentionally exploiting him. I am grateful for the care they shower on him. But they are not qualified to be his 24/7 care givers, and they are also unable to view his world with a cynical eye because they struggle with English. My uncle is a very wealthy man, and now an old and sick one, which makes him vulnerable. They don't get that, and he refuses to. Here's a scary fact: the only place he goes regularly is the floating casino. He chose his new home based on proximity to "the boats," not to any of us.
He is terrified by this legal turn of events, phoning my mother, reading documents to her over the phone, asking her what this or that means. My mother has left a message for the lawyer on all these papers, asking for clarification. No one has spoken to my cousin, his daughter. My uncle is too frightened of pissing her off.
This is so shocking. My uncle has been, at many times in his life, a tough and angry son-of-a-bitch with a mean streak a mile wide. He has long enjoyed the status he believes his money gives him. For him to be passive, submissive, turning to my mother for help instead of screaming at his own damn lawyer (to our knowledge, he has yet to hire one) is frightening me.
And bears out that, as unpleasant as this turn of events is, it's time.
While my uncle has shown his ugly side to many in this family, I have no complaints about how he's treated me. He's always been good to me, kind to me in ways he views as small but meant the world to me as I was growing up. He bought me my first Beatle record ("Love Me Do/PS I Love You"). After he came home from Viet Nam, he let me bring him to school for "show and tell." (I remember him in his khakis, sitting on the radiator in my third-grade classroom.) When I first moved out, he took me to buy a stereo on time, showing me how to build a credit rating.
I can't say that his relationship with his daughter has been as positive. I commend her for all the work and care she has given him, or tried to give him. I had a difficult relationship with my own dad and can't imagine being in her position.
Because my uncle is proud, I am not calling him or my cousin. If he wanted to discuss this with me, he would. I'm gutlessly glad he hasn't, because I would have a difficult time discussing this with him without revealing that I agree with his daughter -- it is time for him to relinquish his freedom in exchange for managed care.
But with my mother's permission, I would like to send him a note. One of his major concerns in all this is his cat, Bennie. If he's suddenly institutionalized, will Bennie starve? Really. The scrappy bastard who played hardball in legal and financial dealings is unable to figure out how to care for his old tabby cat.
I'd like to reassure him that, as long as I have breath in body, Bennie has a home. I think that would comfort him, as a few years ago, when he was still more together mentally, he said he thought it was commendable -- not silly -- that I had a bank account and provisions exclusively for the care of my cats in the event of my own passing.
This is all so hard for my mother. He is still her baby brother, the only other survivor of their turbulent, long-ago nuclear family. She is worried that he may take his own life. (He has parted with his car, but not his guns.) I told her that if he does, that's between him and God. He is scared, he is suffering, and he's living with the certainty that while he will never get better, he will most assuredly get worse. I can't imagine what it's like to be him. If he chooses to exit by his own hand, I don't judge. For while I believe life is His to give and to take, who is to know that God means for people like my uncle to linger with a disease that would have killed him by now in previous generations? I just hope my uncle prays on his decision. I know he has a pastor he respects, but I also know my uncle has been avoiding more and more people.
There are no winners, and no happiness in this saga. Only varying degrees of sad.
His only child, his daughter, is taking him to court soon, forcing him to face the fact that he can no longer make decisions regarding his own life. She's right.
He has two caregivers, a pair of sisters he met through church, who have no health care training and speak little English. While they care for him compassionately, they are not qualified and, truth to tell, he chose them because he can boss them around and make sure he does what he wants to do, rather than what he should do for his health.
This was supposed to be a temporary arrangement, but it's gone on for two years. They do not monitor his meds, they do not require him to get exercise or see his doctors, they do not schedule regular activities for him ... He complains all the time about how much they cost, but no one knows for sure what he's paying them. I am in no way implying that they are intentionally exploiting him. I am grateful for the care they shower on him. But they are not qualified to be his 24/7 care givers, and they are also unable to view his world with a cynical eye because they struggle with English. My uncle is a very wealthy man, and now an old and sick one, which makes him vulnerable. They don't get that, and he refuses to. Here's a scary fact: the only place he goes regularly is the floating casino. He chose his new home based on proximity to "the boats," not to any of us.
He is terrified by this legal turn of events, phoning my mother, reading documents to her over the phone, asking her what this or that means. My mother has left a message for the lawyer on all these papers, asking for clarification. No one has spoken to my cousin, his daughter. My uncle is too frightened of pissing her off.
This is so shocking. My uncle has been, at many times in his life, a tough and angry son-of-a-bitch with a mean streak a mile wide. He has long enjoyed the status he believes his money gives him. For him to be passive, submissive, turning to my mother for help instead of screaming at his own damn lawyer (to our knowledge, he has yet to hire one) is frightening me.
And bears out that, as unpleasant as this turn of events is, it's time.
While my uncle has shown his ugly side to many in this family, I have no complaints about how he's treated me. He's always been good to me, kind to me in ways he views as small but meant the world to me as I was growing up. He bought me my first Beatle record ("Love Me Do/PS I Love You"). After he came home from Viet Nam, he let me bring him to school for "show and tell." (I remember him in his khakis, sitting on the radiator in my third-grade classroom.) When I first moved out, he took me to buy a stereo on time, showing me how to build a credit rating.
I can't say that his relationship with his daughter has been as positive. I commend her for all the work and care she has given him, or tried to give him. I had a difficult relationship with my own dad and can't imagine being in her position.
Because my uncle is proud, I am not calling him or my cousin. If he wanted to discuss this with me, he would. I'm gutlessly glad he hasn't, because I would have a difficult time discussing this with him without revealing that I agree with his daughter -- it is time for him to relinquish his freedom in exchange for managed care.
But with my mother's permission, I would like to send him a note. One of his major concerns in all this is his cat, Bennie. If he's suddenly institutionalized, will Bennie starve? Really. The scrappy bastard who played hardball in legal and financial dealings is unable to figure out how to care for his old tabby cat.
I'd like to reassure him that, as long as I have breath in body, Bennie has a home. I think that would comfort him, as a few years ago, when he was still more together mentally, he said he thought it was commendable -- not silly -- that I had a bank account and provisions exclusively for the care of my cats in the event of my own passing.
This is all so hard for my mother. He is still her baby brother, the only other survivor of their turbulent, long-ago nuclear family. She is worried that he may take his own life. (He has parted with his car, but not his guns.) I told her that if he does, that's between him and God. He is scared, he is suffering, and he's living with the certainty that while he will never get better, he will most assuredly get worse. I can't imagine what it's like to be him. If he chooses to exit by his own hand, I don't judge. For while I believe life is His to give and to take, who is to know that God means for people like my uncle to linger with a disease that would have killed him by now in previous generations? I just hope my uncle prays on his decision. I know he has a pastor he respects, but I also know my uncle has been avoiding more and more people.
There are no winners, and no happiness in this saga. Only varying degrees of sad.
I miss her
Strange, isn't it? I'm watching The Queen, starring Helen Mirren in her Oscar-winning turn as Elizabeth, yet it was clips of Diana that captured my attention. And made me sad for her, yet again.
I wish she was still with us. I'd like to think that she would finally be happy, finally reconciled to Charles and Camilla, finally making the most of her estimable gifts to move people. Maybe she'd be remarried, maybe she'd have the daughter she always wanted. Look at her ... wouldn't it be neat to think of her as the mother of the groom, playing a role in William's public and private lives?
It's no secret to anyone to who reads this blog that JBKO is my all-time heroine: a woman who lived an extraordinary life in her own way. While you can't examine Jackie's life without acknowledging the tragedies, the whole of her life strikes me as anything but tragic.
But Diana, poor Diana ... I'm so sorry she's gone and so sorry she never found lasting happiness. And, because of the public nature of her life, I'm sorry I didn't get to see it.
I hope Sunday is as good as Saturday
God bless them, every one
I just watched The Hurt Locker on On Demand and am sorry ...
• Sorry I watched it, because it is numbingly tense and violent. As it should be. Because it is about a real war, going on in a real place, where soldiers and civilians are really dying.
• Sorry I missed it at the theaters. Because if the tension and violence had this impact on me in my living room, I can only imagine what they would have been like in a darkened theater. While it's an intense, ugly and horrible subject, I need to confront it and think about it more because I am ...
• Sorry I don't often remind myself that there are troops facing this right now, and in my name, and I should.
In that way, this movie is like Precious, another Oscar-nominated film. There I lives I don't think of often enough, but I should. While I didn't enjoy The Hurt Locker, I appreciate it and am grateful for it. Because it reminds me of all those other souls I should be more grateful for.
Saturday, March 06, 2010
Not Leo's fault but ...
... I figured Shutter Island out pretty early on, and that kinda spoiled the creepy, scary fun the rest of the audience was having. Damn! I was looking forward to this one, too.
He's distracting me!
Nigel is actually shooting the contestants on this episode of America's Next Top Model. If that weren't enough, he's shooting them in the pool so he's wearing a wet suit! What was originally intended as background noise* as I race around, getting ready for a productive Saturday, stopped me completely in my tracks.
Damn you, yummy mysterious Nigel Barker!
*Somehow this doesn't happen when my background noise is Clark Howard on CNN.
Saturday 9
Saturday 9: Your Smiling Face
1. No matter what's going on in your life, what always makes you smile? The color of the sky. The Chicago River. The song "September" by Earth, Wind and Fire.
2. What's the biggest lie you've ever told? God, it's hard to believe this was ever a big deal at all, but at the time, it really was: When I was in high school, I told my parents and sister that I was my English teacher's favorite student and that he helped me after class. It wasn't true -- I didn't need help after class; English was one of my few easy A's. But I wanted my parents to think he was great so my dad wouldn't embarrass me at the school open house by commenting on my teacher's unconventional appearance. I forgot two things: (1) My parents were going to meet and talk to him at the open house and (2) my older sister had him in a class, too. I spent a sleepless night or two, worried that my lie would be found out. It wasn't. I forgot that my dad's bark was worse than his bite and he didn't even speak to my teacher at the open house, and that my sister was too competitive with me to even acknowledge our familial relationship in her class.
3. Do you hold a grudge? Yes. If it had been a competition in Vancouver, I'd be wearing gold right now.
4. What is the worst job you've ever had? Copywriter at a software engineering company. I had no idea what I was doing and quit after six months. Shhh! I never included it in my rez.
5. What would be your dream job? Sometimes I really want to be a pet sitter.
6. What is the happiest event you've experienced? When my niece was little, she was obsessed with the animated Anastasia. She had a dream where she walked into an Anastasia store where she could purchase everything Anastasia for $100, and she had exactly $100 in her purse. I went on eBay and purchased Anastasia memorabilia from all over the world (my favorite: plastic Anasastia medallions that had been packaged in cereal boxes in Ireland). I spread them out all over my apartment and put a sign on the front door: Anastasia Store -- Everything $100. The look on her face when she came in the door, the way she clasped her hands together under her chin and looked around the room in wonderment at the Anastasia dolls and books and puzzles and pillowcase, etc. ... I'll never forget it. How often in life do you get to make someone's dream come true?
7. What is the saddest thing you've experienced? After the 2004 Presidential election, I had to put my cat Billy to sleep because he had bone cancer. It was shattering. I had worked very hard on Senator Kerry's campaign for nearly a year and could not believe the nation had rejected him. Then there was Billy, sweet Billy, who deserved never to suffer because he was such a sensitive, melancholy spirit. It felt like, during those few days, the entire world was dark and bleak and completely wrong. There was hardly anywhere I could turn that provided relief. Except my best friend. That's when we first bonded. He was completely there for me and spoke to me for hours. In case you wondered why I care so much about that relationship, it's because he's the only one in my life who understood (or tried to understand) why watching the Ohio results come in while knowing what I faced with poor, weak Billy, was my personal nadir.
8. Do you tend to exaggerate or underestimate? Exaggerate. During times of stress at work I have been known to say, " ... and we'll miss our due date and Christmas will be cancelled and we'll all die." I suppose that's a slight exaggeration.
9. List the cars that you have owned. Give us just a few words about each one. Chevy Impala. Too big and hard to park, too expensive to fill with gas, and I couldn't wait to get rid of it. I've never had another car.
Friday, March 05, 2010
I don't hurt!
It's nearly 7:00 and I am in no pain whatsoever. I took a pain pill back at about 2:00, so some of the ouch should be creeping back into my chest. But it's not!
Keep your fingers crossed for me.
This just in. 9:30 and I felt a twinge so I took another pain pill. Mostly because I know the pills work best before the pain gets too strong and because I really want to sleep. So while I may not be well yet, I am convinced I'm on the mend.
Oh, but I feel virtuous!
Last night I had dinner with my friend Kathleen. I wasn't especially hungry, so instead of going for a burger I ordered an apple/pear/walnut salad. Since I didn't have a "taste" for anything, I didn't miss anything, either. Of course, that could be because I celebrated my maturity in ordering the salad as entree by having a martini with dinner and a few scoops of chocolate sorbet for dessert. Still the calorie and fat count was lower than if I'd devoured one of their 1/2 lb. burgers.
Kathleen looks great and is so into her job. I'm very proud of her. I just sent a check to the American Cancer Society on her daughter's behalf -- the freshman is running in the ACS Relay for Life and asked me to sponsor her. I mentioned it to Kathleen and commented that both of her kids are great but she shrugged off her part in it, saying that, "my kids are great because they are great kids." Somehow I don't think it's been as easy as she portrays it to bring two people along the road to adulthood so successfully.
Thursday, March 04, 2010
Me as romantic recluse
When I was a very young girl, I remember reading a story in our Scholastic Weekly Reader about a man who worked in a lighthouse. His job seemed important -- remember, this was probably about 40 years ago -- because he kept the boats safe. He was also, for the most part, all alone up there. It seemed terribly romantic to me -- the middle child whose family never bothered to knock before coming in my room and often caught me lip synching into my hairbrush in front of the mirror. I even remember that the lighthouse keeper ordered his heavy winter socks from a catalog and would have to venture into town to pick up the package at the post office every once in a while.
What a fabulous life, I thought. I could write long stories, sing with the radio as loud as I wanted, converse with my cats and still serve mankind by keeping those boats safe.
The lighthouse keeper comes to mind a lot as I immerse myself into the world of Grey Gardens. I am mesmerized by the Beale ladies -- especially "Little Edie," the daughter.
She is a "staunch character," a free thinker, a thwarted performance artist, living with her mother in decrepit gentility in East Hampton. Edie and her mother spend their days mostly in one bedroom of the big house, eating Wonder Bread and ice cream and keeping cats and raccoons … and bickering.
It's the toxicity of their lives that adds a melancholy pull of the heart strings because they really aren't suited to the solitary existence they landed in, due in part to finances and (mostly) their pathology.
Yet even now as I have passed the half-century mark, I still enjoy my alone time best. Tonight I'm having dinner with my friend, Kathleen. I will have a good time but ... part of me wishes I was just home, watching the American Idol results. This weekend my nephew and mother are going to an indoor carnival -- a special fundraiser for his winter soccer league -- and so we won't visit this Sunday as originally planned. I miss them -- I've been avoiding them because of this obnoxious viral thing I'm battling -- but I also look forward to a weekend of not having to do anything with anyone at any particular time. I also resent anyone who comes to my door because that means I have to straighten up for them. YUCK!
While there are times that I feel isolated in a bad, lonely way -- when I can't count on the people I'm closest to -- for the most part alone time is good for me. It refreshes me, recharges my internal battery. It's been a frequent topic of this blog almost from the beginning. For it's not the presence of people I long for, it's the company of certain people.
So the Beale ladies, born performers, ended up living a reclusive life that was ill-suited to them. And me, the moment I close my office door, someone knocks on it, with a need -- professional or personal, real or imagined. It reminds me of that Billie Holliday song, "Them that's got shall get, them that's not shall lose." Life may not be fair, but it is peculiar.
What a fabulous life, I thought. I could write long stories, sing with the radio as loud as I wanted, converse with my cats and still serve mankind by keeping those boats safe.
The lighthouse keeper comes to mind a lot as I immerse myself into the world of Grey Gardens. I am mesmerized by the Beale ladies -- especially "Little Edie," the daughter.
She is a "staunch character," a free thinker, a thwarted performance artist, living with her mother in decrepit gentility in East Hampton. Edie and her mother spend their days mostly in one bedroom of the big house, eating Wonder Bread and ice cream and keeping cats and raccoons … and bickering.It's the toxicity of their lives that adds a melancholy pull of the heart strings because they really aren't suited to the solitary existence they landed in, due in part to finances and (mostly) their pathology.
Yet even now as I have passed the half-century mark, I still enjoy my alone time best. Tonight I'm having dinner with my friend, Kathleen. I will have a good time but ... part of me wishes I was just home, watching the American Idol results. This weekend my nephew and mother are going to an indoor carnival -- a special fundraiser for his winter soccer league -- and so we won't visit this Sunday as originally planned. I miss them -- I've been avoiding them because of this obnoxious viral thing I'm battling -- but I also look forward to a weekend of not having to do anything with anyone at any particular time. I also resent anyone who comes to my door because that means I have to straighten up for them. YUCK!
While there are times that I feel isolated in a bad, lonely way -- when I can't count on the people I'm closest to -- for the most part alone time is good for me. It refreshes me, recharges my internal battery. It's been a frequent topic of this blog almost from the beginning. For it's not the presence of people I long for, it's the company of certain people.
So the Beale ladies, born performers, ended up living a reclusive life that was ill-suited to them. And me, the moment I close my office door, someone knocks on it, with a need -- professional or personal, real or imagined. It reminds me of that Billie Holliday song, "Them that's got shall get, them that's not shall lose." Life may not be fair, but it is peculiar.
Wednesday, March 03, 2010
It's a girly season
OK, it's official: I am now into American Idol. And unlike recent seasons, where the end turned out to be a duel between male contestants, I predict this year it will come down to two of the gir
ls. Here are my early favorites:
• Young Katie, who sang "Put Your Records On"
• Lilly Scott, "A Change Is Gonna Come," my favorite the second week in a row
• Paige Miles, "Walk Away"
• Siobhan Magnus, "Think"
ls. Here are my early favorites:• Young Katie, who sang "Put Your Records On"
• Lilly Scott, "A Change Is Gonna Come," my favorite the second week in a row
• Paige Miles, "Walk Away"
• Siobhan Magnus, "Think"
Spa, ahhhh!
This is the Spa of Colonial Williamsburg. I will be there in a mere 32 days, and one of the treatments I will enjoy is the Hot Stone Massage, which, according to the good people at Boston.com, "draws on the 17th-century Powhatan Indian practice of using sweating to eliminate aches and pains. In the modern interpretation, the body is warmed by hot stones then wrapped in herb-infused, steaming linen to encourage the release of toxins. The experience concludes with a full-body, hot stone massage using oil containing lavender, cypress, juniper, and rosemary."There are those who would probably advise me not to go. After all, how sensible is it to run up a tab for a spa getaway and stay at a premium hotel when I haven't even paid for my last vacation to Key West yet? If you look at the "Watch me reduce" counter on the right, you will not be impressed by my money managing skills thus far this year, and the ground is certainly not very firm under my feet here at work.
But I counter all that reason with a bit of wisdom I got from my mom: "There's always a reason not to do something."
Besides, I have been in pain since January 24. I flourish with alone time in a new place and I need a fresh perspective to decide what I want to do next with my career ... job ... whatever this is now. I have never been to Colonial Williamsburg and I've wanted to immerse myself in this period ever since I "discovered" Abigail Adams through books and the HBO miniseries on her hubby.
So I'm going. And today, when things could be a little better, I'm sending my mind there in advance.
Tuesday, March 02, 2010
There's a downside to the Information Age
I was having an OK day. The trip down to the client's offices went smoothly. Got a new photo ID so I can move freely around the client's corporate campus, and it doesn't suck anywhere near as bad as last year's. Had a nice little salad for lunch. The working session with the cli
ent was productive. We made it back to Chicagoland in record time and I even got to see most of American Idol.
But then I did the dumb thing.
I gave into temptation and checked the industry blogs. I knew there were rumors swirling out in the blogosphere, but I had no idea how many there were, and how negative they were. To say more lay offs are predicted this month is an understatement -- the word "bloodbath" turned up over and over again.
Now I can't sleep. I'm worried and those shingles-related pains are a-throbbing. I can't do a thing about the situation at work, and know that if I'm about to be laid off, the decision was made weeks (if not months) ago. So I shouldn't have looked. I should know better by now. My bad.
I hope the atmosphere at the office tomorrow isn't too funereal.
ent was productive. We made it back to Chicagoland in record time and I even got to see most of American Idol.But then I did the dumb thing.
I gave into temptation and checked the industry blogs. I knew there were rumors swirling out in the blogosphere, but I had no idea how many there were, and how negative they were. To say more lay offs are predicted this month is an understatement -- the word "bloodbath" turned up over and over again.
Now I can't sleep. I'm worried and those shingles-related pains are a-throbbing. I can't do a thing about the situation at work, and know that if I'm about to be laid off, the decision was made weeks (if not months) ago. So I shouldn't have looked. I should know better by now. My bad.
I hope the atmosphere at the office tomorrow isn't too funereal.
Monday, March 01, 2010
Not a bit like Patton
You know how old blood-and-guts, George S. Patton, was known for firing his troops up and leading them confidently, passionately into battle? Well, forget it because Patton bears no resemblance whatsoever to my boss.
Everything about my boss, from his posture to his vocal inflections, reveals that he thinks we're all on the verge of dismissal. A prominent article on one of the trade mags's websites isn't helping matters, I'll admit. But we still have the account, we still have our jobs, and I think this is the time to over-deliver, not give up.
I've been doing this for a long time and by now I know the signs. Yes, this agency is in trouble. Yes, this client relationship is rocky. But our client is a corporate behemoth and it take a while to turn a ship that big around completely. That's why I believe all is not lost ... yet.
But I can't do it alone. That's why right now I wish my boss was less Charlie Brown and more George S. Patton.
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