My Theory: It's All a Conspiracy

Recently our cable system went fully digital and High Definition.  Didn't really matter much to us, we thought, since we don't have high def tvs yet.  We are waiting for the tvs we own to crap out before investing in a flat panel high def version.

But since the conversion - this is what we see on our screen:

Notice the large black box surrounding the television picture?  I have tried multiple settings to return the image to full screen to no avail.  This is simply what we get on most shows nowadays...

I think it is all a conspiracy with the television manufacturers and the owners of the airwaves.  They want us to buy new tv's not when our existing systems die off, but now. Right now. 

I'm stubbornly refusing to go along for the ride.  But this mini-screen view is really starting to tick me off.

Yet Another Freecycle Tale

What would you do if your husband brought home dozens (maybe hundreds) of old trays from his lodge? He brought them home to throw them out and I was horrified to see the waste...even though I was equally horrified to see the rusty dusty things come to my house.

So there they sat....and sat....and sat.

When I decided to attack some of the garage and sort out our summer furniture and offer up some unwanted items to Freecycle, I opened my previously mentioned armoire...and found the trays.

It's been over a year now that they've been stacked in this hidden spot with little or no thought put to what to do with them.

So, I took some photos and offered them up on Freecycle.

OFFER:  Metal Dining Trays, Suffern
My husband's lodge recently cleaned out and had dozens of food/cafeteria trays in various state of condition. Take all and **offer to others what you don't want. Mix of smaller silver finish (not real silver, silver color) and painted (red/orange with some decorative finishes). Hoping somone can save these from a landfill destiny.  Need 12-24 hour notice for pickup. Email me if interested.


I mean some of them were kind of interesting...see this one at left?  Others were just overpainted an ugly red finish.

But who took them?  A lovely woman that goes by the "handle" Wannapaint.  Wannapaint took all of my trays and figured out a really cool answer.  They are magnetic, being metal, even the overpainted ugly ones.  So she's going to paint them in interesting decorative ways and make great little magnetic boards.

How creative is that?  I love it.  She gets a project.  I get a cleaned out space. The trays get a new life outside the landfill.  And some lucky people (she's promising me one!) get some cute magnetic boards.

Reduce...Reuse...Recycle...Freecycle...it's awesome.

Emotional Ties

I've been FREECYCLING again and overall it continues to be a feeling of overwhelming freedom and space.  Why, oh why, haven't I done this before!  Garage sale, charity, garbage hauling, something....  Actually, I've always been pretty good about cleaning closets and such, but if there is room in closet or basement or garage it gets filled pretty quickly.

Today, I cleaned off some items that had a little more sentimental value.  The armoire - inexpensive do it yourself furniture piece from Sam's or some similar big box store.  But we put it together ourselves in our apartment in Nyack NY where we were very happy...we polyeurethaned it til it shone...then when we moved and redecorated in our first place of ownership I did some accent/trim paint to match our new more sophisticated decor.  Tonight it sits in our driveway waiting for a stranger to come and take it away.  It has been in the garage for a few years, collecting grime and spiders, but I'm still a little sad to see it go.

I also cleaned off some chairs that have come to us from various family - a very interesting chair we never found a space for although we loved it's interesting shape and style.

Some old chairs in need of re-caning from a family tie at an Inn undergoing refurbishment.  We had thought to re-cane them and re-finish them ourselves for little corner decorative chairs...or maybe even to put them out in garden as rustic pieces...but we never did find the right place or time, so off they go.

I also gave away five fancy dresses today to a friend's daughter whose school was having a dress drive.  This is a good economic indicator...does your middle class high school need to have charity drives to offset the cost of proms?  Theirs does.  This was probably the toughest give of all.  Because each dress I gave was connected with some special event.

The dress I wore to my brother-in-law's wedding.  In this dress I was photographed dancing with my Dad and it is one of my favorite photos.

The dress I bought when I was at my thinnest point ever and wore only once celebrating a shape I have had only once in my life in my favorite color (at the time) of deep purple.

The dress I wore to my best friend Terry's wedding.  The memories of buying this dress about 2 hours before the wedding are tied to the wonderful experience of watching her marry a wonderful man and enjoying a fabulous evening with good friends.

The dress I wore to my nieces Bat Mitzvah.  All about meeting the glamour expectations of a 13-year old for one of the most important days of her young life.

The dress I wore as Maid of Honor in my cousin's wedding just this past October.  A new beginning and now a bittersweet memory since the site of her wedding reception was shortly thereafter the site of her brother's memorial service.

What I came to realize as I reluctantly cleaned off the armoire and chairs, and bagged up the dresses, is that every one of these are just things.  Things that have lived their useful life with me and can now go on and give pleasure to others.

It is the memories that are precious.

Favorite Sayings...

At a recent job interview, Mrs. Brightside was asked if she had a personal motto.  My response? You've got to be kidding me??? Actually, I think I actually commented, "I would kill" or something sensitive like that.  If this is how they are differentiating in this job market that is flooded with qualified applicants, we are all lost.

But as a conversation starter, it offers an interesting question, don't you think?  Just like those party games where people are asked their five favorite books, movies, songs, etc.  It always gets the room buzzing with agreement or debate. Do I have a personal motto?  I began thinking of those favorite sayings and those quotable quotes that you retain...here are a few that came to mind.

1. Ellen Degeneris singing "Just keep swimming, Just keep swimming" - I swear this pops into my head when my frustration is at an all time high and patience is at an all time low.
2. "That guy could screw up a one car freight train"  Isn't that an awesome visual?  I can just see some idiot actually screwing up that simple task.  This was one of my dad's favorites.
3. "You think education is expensive? Try ignorance!"  I saw that on a bumper sticker once and it totally stuck with me.  Maybe because I'm the daughter of a teacher, maybe because I think education is THE silver bullet when it comes to poverty and prejudice. 
4. "Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful and committed people can change the world. Do you know why?...Because it's the only thing that ever has."  West Wing Quote that lives in my brain forever.  A reminder to keep trying to change things even when it feels like you are banging your head on a brick wall.
5. "Everybody thinks of changing humanity and nobody thinks of changing himself."  This Tolstoy quote is a great reminder to NOT bang your head against that wall until you've faced what changes must be made inside you.

So what are your favorite quotes, sayings or personal mottos?

Post Script On Sunday Accident

I haven't gone back to house (yet) to check on the dog's health, but our car ended up in the shop for a $150 repair. This may be a combination of when Hubby hit a deer (similar situation as dog) and my Sunday incident...but it's just a car, and repairable.  I can only hope the vet visit had similar quick fix result.

He Who Smelt It....Dealt It

Springtime in my neighborhood is ripe with the smell of skunks.  It permeates my home especially when we are trying to enjoy the short season between FREEZING and HOT AS HELL that is a New York spring.  I enjoy an open window and a window fan for sleeping, much more so than the canned air from A/C that I live in all day at work, but when it brings skunk stink....not quite the springtime fresh scent I'm going for.

Today at work, all I can smell is skunk.  I'm trying to figure out if (a) I'm imagining it...(b) it is some kind of sour smell from the flowers my boss gave me last week...or (c) heaven forbid I've absorbed the skunk smell into my own skin. 

Have you ever chased a smell?  I've been known to drive my Hubby crazy by walking into a room and saying, "Something smells....Don't you smell that?  What IS that smell?"  And never EVER actually identifying the smell.  Perhaps at times it is receptiveness to certain hormonal/pheremonal scents.  Perhaps it is truly just a whiff in the air that is traveling through.  But when those smells occur that totally turn you off...and you can't figure out where it is coming from, or even describe it? That is one of the most frustrating things in life.

Once I moved into a new room at the office and the smell drove me batty!  I thought is was residual from the previous occupant.  Finally I purchased a plug in room freshener.  When I crawled under the desk to plug it in, I came face to face with three dead mouse carcasses.  So, while I may not be able to identify it...I definitely sense it.  Kind of half....nosed? (get it....instead of half-assed?)

A few years ago I was chasing a smell around our bedroom.  I was convinced something had died or been really really ill somewhere in our room, our closet, or between our walls.  But I could never quite put my finger on it.  We went away on vacation and when we returned, the smell seemed to be gone.  Then, within hours of coming home, it came back again with a vengeance.  Finally Hubby muscled my huge dresser away from the wall (the one place I hadn't fully investigated) and there was a huge black patch all around an electrical socket.  It had disappeared because we weren't home to use the power!  Turns out we were overloading the electrical system in our old house because the fuses were accepting too much power before blowing (wrong grade, or something technical like that).  I maintain to this day that we avoided a deadly electrical fire by my superior stink detector (oh and Hubby's muscle too).  Remember that movie with Steve Martin playing a version of Cyrano with the big nose.  He led the fire department through the streets sniffing out the smoke from the fire as he went.  "That fire was beat by a nose!"  True dat.

As a parting note to this bizarre and rambling post about scentology I'll just say one more thing.  A friend of mine has no sense of smell. She lost it for some reason and it has never returned. It is something I don't know if she will ever fully get over.  What we don't realize, she says, is how much this sense affects everything else. Mood. Appetite. Sense of time, even! Imagine going to your favorite restaurant and you can't smell the food cooking! Imagine no scent of freshly mown grass, coffee, cologne! Imagine no scent of rain or morning dew. 

So, given the choice, skunks do your worst.  Just remember he who smelt it, dealt it.

A Wonderful Sunday...with One Exception

Well, besides my domestic failure turning into a culinary success, the day was full of high notes.  Good times at our friends' house - hanging by the pool, shooting the sh*t, marveling at the growing teenagers with the deep voices, and just generally doing a lot of laughing, munching, sunning, and funning.  At a certain point our plan for LINNER turned into a full out plan for DINNER as we had munched our way through so many snacks upon first arrival no one wanted the cold cuts and salads that were planned for our meal.

So we took a late afternoon break to go see one of the kids take her riding lesson.

This, sadly, was my best photo of the afternoon due to the inability to use flash in the dark barn (don't want to spook the horses).  I have to say I was quite impressed with Chloe's technique especially given the tough beast she was riding who would have much preferred to be left lounging in his stall on this very hot and humid afternoon rather than being put through the paces of an English riding lesson. 

We strolled through the barn visiting the other horses, seeing some incredibly beautiful animals - one of which looked like it had a totally fake coat due to the impossible silvery whiteness of his hair against the large black patches.  I should have taken a picture, but he wouldn't turn to face us and I just felt a picture of a horse's ass was just too much for my little blog (and might invite comparative comments).

We were in good (and finally hungry) mood returning to the house when I suddenly caught movement from the left side of the road and realized that a dog was running full tilt into the road ahead of us.  I slammed on my brakes, but it was just inevitable that it happened and we collided.  The poor thing jumped up and ran off immediately which gave me some hope, but I had heard and felt the horrible crunch when we hit and I could not imagine he was uninjured.  A woman with a nearly identical dog was standing by the side of the road and she went after the one we hit yelling back for us to watch the other dog.

When we finally tracked her down she had managed to corral both dogs on a back porch of a house and she said, "Oh, he seems fine."  This being the same clueless woman who CALLED HER DOG to COME from across a busy street.  It was a miracle there wasn't a huge pile-up considering cars coming the opposite direction and about 7cars behind me all traveling at about 45 miles per hour.  I insisted she take the dog to the vet in case he had experienced any internal injuries.  We didn't exchange information - she was too frazzled, and I was too hesitant. I did note the house, however, and I may find myself stopping or leaving a note in the mailbox this week to see how the dog is doing.

After that, I switched from the diet pepsi I had been drinking all day (hence my driving instead of others to the barn) and had a stiff vodka tonic.  Hubby drove us home.

Another Domestic Failure

Well, this morning I determined to make cookies to take to our friends' house for our "Linner" (since Brunch timing didn't work for folks).  Peanut butter cocoa cookies to be exact, which I expected to be a hit with our host since he is all about chocolate, peanut butter, and if I could find a way to include it - bananas.  Some of you may know that I am NOT the cook in the family, but typically I can handle baking.  At least since my first chocolate chip cookie disaster in which I thought that 2-1/2 cups meant 2, half cups of flour and I made burnt soup.

Flash back to that moment today.  Once the batter was mixed, it seemed a bit loose to me...but I attributed it to the warm weather.  I stuck the bowl of batter in the freezer for about 15 minutes while I cleaned up kitchen assuming it would stiffen up.  Then I decided I didn't want to bother with drop cookies, so I looked up the directions for pan cookies.  I like the way those all melt together better anyway - better distribution of the good chip stuff.

The pan directions called for a pan about 15x9.  I think mine is nearly that size...but maybe a little smaller.  I scooped and spread the batter in, now chilled to the consistency of warm peanut butter, and stuff it into the oven.  When the timer buzzed I returned to the kitchen concerned about the smell of burning....was the tray too low in the oven I wondered?

No.

The batter had overflowed all four sides of the pan and was slowly burning away on the bottom of the oven.  My oven with the broken self-cleaning function.  Oh joy of joys.

I pulled out the tray and began scooping the burning batter off the bottom of the oven.  Calmly.  In that scary calm way that tells that I'm just about done with all my patience.  Sometimes that calm can carry me through, sometimes it is just the moment before the big blow.

Once the worst of the batter was scooped out, amazingly without a single burnt digit or melted spatula, I turned to the tray.  The edges were nicely browned and baked, so I broke off a piece - DELICIOUS!  I determined to scrape the overflowing bits off the sides and return the tray to the oven.  It couldn't get worse right?  I already have a messy smelly oven to clean and no cookies to bring to LINNER. 

To ensure no more spillover, I put a larger tray underneath the first tray and stuck it back in for another 4 minutes...and then another 2.  It is cooling on top of the stove right now and I'm hoping for a hail mary win here with some creative slicing of the results. 

But if not, A&P bakery section here I come.  And at least I have an entertaining, self-deprecating, typical Wenderina domestic mess anecdote to share with my friends.

Post-Script: 

Ah the beauty of Mom's milk-glass platter and my own creative cutting...saved again.

Post- Post- Script:
Cookie/Brownie things disappeared like magic at the party.  Just goes to show you, even a domestic failure can be a culinary success.

Trying to Get Motivated

So Hubby did me a huge fav this morning.  He took the cats to the vet and let me stay home.  All week we've been talking about taking both cats in meant all hands on deck.  Then last night I came home in a manic craze thinking about the amount of work I have to do (for the job).  When he first offered to take the cats in alone I refused because I just knew that I would waste the time at home anyway and wouldn't engage in work.  It is my perfect procrastination pose, you see.  But this morning, he insisted.

And so as I waved goodbye to the mewling two in the back and the smiling one in the front I tried to get motivated to work.  To make headway...so the latter portion of the weekend can be about relaxation.  And I came indoors and decided first I MUST have something to drink.  I made a pitcher of ice tea.  Then, I MUST unload the dishwasher because I needed one glass for the ice tea.  Then I MUST have something to eat too, so I made some toast and fruit.  OK, getting real now.  Take the laptop out and plug it in.  Then I MUST find some inspiring i-tunes to get me going.  And then I MUST just check in on my blog reader. Ok, getting really real now...work dammit.  But just one more thing.  I MUST post a blog about getting to work.

Wonder if I can find anything else to do before I actually get real.

Why Men Hate Us

On Saturday I went to the gym with a friend.  After working ourselves up into a sweat, laughing and moaning the entire way, we decided to take a walk along the track and enjoy the beautiful springtime weather.  As we walked, we entered into a totally female discussion...

T:  I was in such great shape last year after working with that personal trainer.

W: I know, it's what got me started going to the gym.

T:  But then I stopped!  Now I'm at my heaviest ever.

W: Mmm. (this is getting into danger zone)

T:  Don't I look it?

W: Ummmm....No. (danger Wil Robinson, danger!)

T: Really?

W: Ummmm....No.

T:  (In a horrified voice) - Are you saying that you remember me being FATTER?

W:  (totally cracking up) - That is such a "girl thing" to say!!  Seriously?  I'm telling you that I haven't noticed you are heavier and you are more worried that I thought you were fatter in the past?  There is no winning here.  If I say you look fatter now, that's insulting.  If I say you don't look heavier now, you think I mean I remember you fatter.  If I say you look about the same now and you know your weight is up, it sounds like you have always looked heavy.  I'm not answering this question any more.   

This conversation?  This is why men hate us.

Tears for Good News

I spent nearly an hour crying today over good news.  The news that my cousin does NOT have cancer.  It has been our experience in our family that when testing begins, cancer will be found.  My father (lung), my mother (ovarian and colon survivor), my uncle (skin survivor), my cousin (lymphoma), even a family pet....all in the last few years. 

After losing her brother only 27 days after his diagnosis of lymphoma, imagine my cousin's shock to hear she would need blood tests, biopsey's and ultrasounds herself just two weeks after the funeral.  While our attitudes were forcefully positive, it was evident today when the good news arrived that our gut was already tied into knots for the worst case scenario.

So when I heard her say, "It's all okay - everything was negative." I just burst into tears.  And I couldn't stop for almost an hour.  What sweet exhausting relief. 

This damn blog has been little more than a downer the last few entries and I'll be glad to get back to boring normalcy.

Wake Up Call

You know when the phone rings at my house early in the morning, it's rarely a good thing.  Especially on a Saturday.  This morning it was my Mom calling to tell me my Uncle had fallen last night and broke his hip.  Luckily it was not a bad break, he's having replacement surgery now for the ball of the joint.  From what I know this is better than when the pocket also needs replacement.  He's a pretty healthy active 75 year old, so I'm hoping this is just a minor health setback.

These are the times I hate being 5 hours away from my Mom.  While there may not be a lot I could do, if I were there, I'd be a little extra support. Instead of hearing that Mom, who was sleepless all night while they were in ER, was driving back to hospital to sit while he had surgery, I would be there to drive her or split the duties.  Instead of hearing that the back lawn needs mowing and rain is expected, I could be there mowing.  Instead of hearing that he may be in hospital and/or rehabilitation for a while, I could be there helping with shopping, shuttling, chores, and hospital visits.

Of course there are more family members in town - including my Uncle's daughter and son, and numerous teenage and adult grandchildren.  One of them can mow the lawn, help with hospital visits, run an errand.  But it doesn't make me feel any better about being so far away.

Post Script:  Mom just called and Uncle Al is doing very well.  Surgery fine.  I mentioned coming up and she pooh poohed it, but I know (and I know you are reading this mom) that being there would be a relief.  The choices that life puts in your path.  The pull of one responsibility to another.  The need to be independent and dependent at the same time.  The phone ringing at 8AM didn't wake me up, but it remains a bit of a wake up call, all the same.

Just about the COOLEST THING EVER

My company/office is moving.  We are going to a swanky building "downtown" instead of an office park on the outskirts (we've been here about 30 years).  One day, our office services VP asked me to step into a meeting to give a fresh perspective on options for the lobby.  After reviewing current plans I threw out an idea about using flat panels, mounted vertically, that we could use for images and messages that support the company brand.  They've been trying to figure out the logistics of this ever since.

One of the team just sent us this You Tube video of a guy's flat panel display in his home.   THESE ARE NOT WINDOWS.  These are computer screens.  Truly. You have to see it.  It is the COOLEST THING EVER.  If you want to see more, go here.

This is what they pay me for

My current view of the world.  Notice the beautiful Spring day outside the window of the conference room...and the data hell in which I currently reside.  Ah well...as Boss Lady just said..."This is what they promoted you for, W!"

Post Script:  And this is why they keep paying me more....note it is now pitch black outside. 

Now I feel like a schmuck

So today VP called me to say, "Congratulations, you have been promoted!"  And now I feel like a schmuck for my (de)motivation comments of yesterday.

Here's how the call went:

{RING}

"Hey W, this is VP, how about that call with RP yesterday --- yada yada yada --- Oh, I just wanted you to know that I was called in for the corporate review committee yesterday and you've been promoted to a senior associate."

"Holy Cats, VP, really?  I never expected that this year of all years."

"W, you always underestimate...."

{at this point as he paused to talk to his taxi driver and I'm thinking he is going to chastise me for not having enough self-confidence...he's going to finish that statement with "....your value!" ...and then he resumes....

"W, you always underestimate MY ABILITY TO GET THINGS DONE."

And so, the universe righted itself with VP at the center as usual. You gotta laugh right?

But that's ok....he got it done...and I got it done.  I don't know yet what this means - role, compensation, car?!?!?! (please, oh please, a car....to replace my 160,000 mile Ford) but I do know that it means that all that work was noticed. 

So I'm motivated, but feeling a little guilty as I know the rewards are few and far between, and I'd enjoy this much more if I could ensure my team all got the recognition they deserve as well.

It's all very hush-hush until the formal announcements of all management promotions next week, but it's okay that I share it with the internet right?  I mean all 6 of you who follow won't tell right?

And tonight I'll dream of a new car...maybe.

Motivation?

I had my review today.  And I'm very happy...sort of.  The review was great - I got great feedback and all the areas for improvement were constructive and directed me toward next career steps. 

Comments that make me blush...

• Smart, articulate, insightful, creative
• Not afraid to voice her opinions - and they are on the mark and helpful
• Has a point of view which we value
• Organized and frank
• Extraordinary work eithic
• Brings a different perspective to a debate
• Performed above and beyond expectation

And then the other side of the story....

No raise in 2010.
No promotion in 2010.

Damn this economy already.

Maybe I'm just feeling too secure that the MERGER will not kick me to the curb.  Since fear is no longer a motivating factor....I'm looking for the more traditional options...you know...like money. In today's economy, when so many are so worse off, are you motivated simply by being employed?  Is it selfish to want compensation for working harder than you ever have before when your peers are just trying to get health insurance again?

I don't want to sound like I'm de-motivated, but it does come down to some of those age-old debates.  If you put in all the time and effort and the other person in the company who is 9-4ing it, doing the minimal and still goes home with the same raise as you, what is the impetus to do what you are doing?

I guess I'll have to find the motivating factor soon, because tomorrow I have to deliver the same message to three of my senior staff.  All with positive reviews....all working hard....all getting no raise, no promotion.

The Value of Good Administrative Staff

I come from Administrative Staff stock.  By this I mean, my career dates back to a secretarial position.  I have truly climbed the ladder rung by rung at my firm.

Because of this, I have a healthy admiration for the Administrative Professionals (Assistants, Clerical, Reception, Reproduction, etc.) and the importance of good staff in these positions.  I also recognize that they will forever be the lowest paid position in the company.  Only by dint of will and longevity have the administrative assistants in our company climbed out of entry-level pay scales.  And by then, most are so beaten down that it no longer feels warranted, but it definitely feels earned.

I try to be smart enough to take advantage of a good administrative assistant, without taking them for granted.  I often find myself apologizing when I need to ask them to set up a meeting, order food, or take care of some of the millions of menial tasks that are required to get the work done.  I actively look for more interesting things for them to do to balance out the shit work.  I also try to roll up my sleeves and pitch in side by side when the shit work is overwhelmingly ... well ...shitty.  All of this has to be done in delicate balance.  In point of fact, my time is "more valuable" and while I can pitch in to do their work, there are no board room meetings they can attend in my place.  I can order a mean lunch, but sadly, they can't create a strategy presentation. 

When in a meeting room, I used to bristle when the men would look to me (typically the only woman in the room) to manage the coffee and the note-taking.  I do respect the person who is in charge of this, so I don't find it appropriate to act like it is beneath me, I just wondered why they thought it was my job?  I finally developed a deflection technique where I would declare (truthfully) that I don't drink coffee but I could point them to the coffee machine (which I don't know how to operate, because, as I said, I don't drink coffee) and as far as notes, I offer to share the notes I am taking, but declare that if they want an accurate record of the meeting we should get a professional admin to handle that.

This month, April 21st is Administrative Professionals Day.  I already have the card for our group admin, and I'm planning the lunch - one meal she doesn't need to schedule.  If you are a working stiff of the female persuasion, I encourage you to think hard about this day. 

• If you are an admin, consider that the people who push things "down" to you really need you and they know it, even if they don't always show it well.
    
• If you are a staffer, you can learn a lot from those admins in your team - organization, prioritization, tact, and managing up!  Respect their talents on the team.
    
• If you are a manager, take a moment to remember what it was like when you were on the lower organizational rungs and remind your admin that every little task is critical to the end result.  And when people try to make you feel like an admin, don't take it as a slight, but rather defer to the admin, as you would with ANY OTHER EXPERT RESOURCE. 
  
  Because they truly are.

Some Action This Weekend

Actually it sounded like a machine gun action...or the cats were doing something new and different and getting into more trouble than usual - nope the cats were both curled upon bed with us.  Oh no, maybe something wrong with the boiler...but the boiler is off right? 

Hubby chased the noise most of the weekend and it wasn't until we were both outside together today working on the crown molding, that we realized that the sound was coming from the roof.  More specifically from the top of the chimney. 

It's nearly impossible to see, but there is a small woodpecker who has decided the harmonics he creates by rat-atat-tating on our chimney topper is sweet music to his ears. 

Sigh. 

It's going to be a long spring.  But as Hubby said, "Hurrah - it isn't a problem with the house!!" (for once)

For the rest of the action this weekend, check out the Yellow Cottage.

Artistic Floors

One Day Facelift

Crown Modeling- A day of revelations

Have you Freecycled Today?

The Yellow Cottage did!

The great thing about redoing space in your house...is FINDING space in your house. So a little renovation, a little spring cleaning, and soon there is a little more breathing room.

I highly recommend it.

Old Habits and Ex's

This week my favorite cousin got a new job. YAY SUZIE Q! Next week my favorite cousin turns 40! HOW IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE?

So, I sent her the first of a series of cards. This one congratulating her on her new job.

It arrived today. I know that because her newlywed husband just sent me a text with a picture of the envelope with this message:

"What is wrong with this picture?!?!"

I puzzled for about 2 seconds until I realized. I'd used her former last name. In fact, her former husband's last name.

Oops.

My text response: Old habits, just like Ex's, die hard. Sorry!

Today, I Love Everybody

You ever have one of those days where you are just brimming with affection and happiness? You know, where people who normally annoy you make you laugh...where even the most painful meetings don't even raise your hackles enough to roll your eyes? Today is one of those days. Maybe it is the 85 degree weather and sunshine. Maybe it is just hormones. Maybe it is total and utter exhaustion of the mind and body. Or maybe it is just you've given up on trying to change the world and you are just going along.

Today, I love everybody.

Well, maybe not everybody.

Like the female person who uses the paper toilet seat covers in our office, but doesn't make sure they flush when she is done.

And maybe the executive who keeps sending new and more complex tasks my way that don't seem to be a part of the original plan.

And maybe the traffic gods who decided that today was the day to, for seemingly no good reason, create a traffic jam that lasted for an hour on my way to work.

And maybe the building manager who can't seem to get the security lock to recognize my badge on one particular door causing me to have to walk halfway around the building.

But mostly, I love everybody. And those I don't love...well...I'm not even rolling my eyes at you today.

One in 1.1 Million

And I feel like that high school student volunteer, all welled up with pride and lots of hope that this thing actually works.  Even if it costs more to someone like me - lucky enough to have had employer-based healthcare my entire life.  The extra cost is worth it to know that my neighbor who may not be so lucky, has the same opportunity for medical care. So yeah, I signed it. I'm one in 1.1 million.

But also...

My last post focused on the positives of Spring...and this doesn't eclipse it, but it does gross me out a little.  Just saw my first indoor ant of the season, crawling across my desk.  Ugh.  Yes Spring is definitely here.

Wind Tunnels on My Mind

When the season begins to warm, there is a building phenomenon that happens here at work.  The staircases become wind tunnels.  Not quite, but almost, the kind that lifts skirts and hair.  The wind howls throughout the stairways and the security doors require a specific push to latch.  I'm not sure what happens to the ventilation system (since we don't have windows that open and all exterior doors are automated to close) during this time, but it is definitely an unusal harbinger of spring.

The trees are beginning to pop with that beautiful early spring pink and the daffodils are in full bloom, slowly giving way to the budding tulips.  The early heatwave here is bound to cause some havoc with mosquitos, germs, and gardens, but after a long harsh winter that brought lots of snow and floods of rain, the balmy and sunny weather could not be more welcome.

I don't recall the last time the first week of April brought on desires to open the pool, add plants to the pots and window boxes, and put screens in the storm doors.  It is still truly too early to do most of that - some cold nights could definitely kill off potted plants and the pool will definitely not be swimmable until end of May, but oh the dreams of warm summers were definitely upon us this weekend.

Time to break out the open-toed shoes, the capris pants, and the linen tops.  And to remember, once again, why living in the northeast is such a pleasure.  To experience a true reawakening when Spring arrives at our doorstep.

Back to my Roots - Anxiety

Today I was talking to my Aunt about her granddaughter (not sure what relation that makes her to me...just picture a beautiful blond 14-year old girl) who is suffering panic attacks.  I (cross fingers and knock wood) have never had my anxiety take this path.  Mine has always been more a general worry-wart, sleepless night, skin break-out, junkfood binging, hubby head-snapping off kind of path.   Poor young M is experiencing the frightening breath-halting kind of anxiety. And can I just say, what kind of "intelligent design" is this of the human body that it isn't enough that your mind is in a whirl of fear and dread and then your body starts to act up too?  Like is that supposed to DISTRACT you from the other worries because now you're just worried you are going to have a heart attack and die?  Is it supposed to be some kind of GET IT IN PERSPECTIVE activity?  Well...I may still be stressed out about my schoolwork and my parents divorce and the loss of my uncle and my dog in the course of a month, but hell, at least my heart didn't explode?

???? Is it just me????

Then later today, I was reading Aaryn Belfer's blog (damn, that girl can WRITE) about her recent trip to Europe and how scary she finds getting out of her comfort zone and navigating foreign cities and transit systems on her own. And yet, she sells it because it was such a fabulous trip that it was totally worth all her anxious moments. I have to admit, the only cloud hanging over Venice is my similar anxieties.  But then she said the magic words....Fake it til you make it.

Man do I know that philosophy.

I spent most of my teenage school years avoiding any class that required me to give an oral report.  Stand up in front of a crowd? No F-ing Way.  It was too often a requirement I couldn't get around and those memories remain lodged in my brain forever.

Like when in junior high we were required to read a biography and it wasn't until AFTER we selected and locked in our choice that the teacher told us at the end of term we'd have to dress up as our subject and act out an interview ON VIDEO with a classmate.  My choice?  Mary, F-ing Queen of Scots.  And I can promise you, it was NOT as good as the TUDORS on HBO.  The surprising hit of the class? Hitler.  I still want to know how that kid got a Nazi flag for his backdrop.

Or maybe when in music class we had to select a song and give a report on its structure, history and how it made us feel.  I was preceded by the class clown who gave a rousing presentation on Steve Martin's King Tut to the enjoyment of everyone in the class.  My choice? You Don't Bring Me Flowers by Neil Diamond and Barbra Streisand.  Yeah, that pretty much cemented my reputation in the class as a clueless and very uncool dorkwad.

But finally, as an adult in the working world, I figured out that FITYMI (fake it till you make it) concept.  Don't get me wrong, the palms still sweat, the blood still roars in the ears, and I'm usually pretty hyped up the night before, but it's also kind of an out of body experience now.  I just get up there and talk.

So, my dear (cousin? niece? relative?) M - my advice to you is FITYMI, FITYMI, FITYMI.  Somehow at some point the faking becomes real and you survive...and even thrive....and  surprisingly your heart doesn't even explode.

When in Rome...or Rather Venice

So after reviewing our finances (post-tax season), I think it's time to embrace the idea that we are heading to a new more exotic locale for vacation this summer.

Venice, Baby!

Hubby has signed up for a 2-day photography workshop and I'm gonna tag along and extend the trip.  I may not have enough funds to buy some art, some Italian fashion, or Murano glass, but we're going.  I hit the bookstore last week and picked up an Italian phrase book, a guide book of Venice, and - of course - Italy for Dummies.

But, lest any of you think I'm changing my ways by going all European, let me assure you in August we return to the same old vacation spot - Cape Cod - for our standard week.  This will be our 9th year.

I don't think it is any less beautiful than Venice, do you?

Cookies, Play, and Smiles

Is that a cookie?  What IS a cookie?

GIVE ME THAT COOKIE!!

Don't think I don't realize that this is a strawberry, not a cookie...but since I didn't know what a strawberry was until just now....I'll forgive you.

That chocolate on my face proves nothing...nothing I tell you.

Take me to the playground and we'll work off the cookies.

And of course we'll play trains...for hours...and you'll love it.

And in the end it's Mom's love that will make the day the best.

A Penchant for Melancholy

Last week I was having lunch with Amybow and Boss Lady and I could tell Amybow was getting depressed listening to us. Boss Lady and I were on a rant and dwelling on the negative. It didn't matter if it was work, home, family, friends, movies, or books...all of our stories started ok, but ended really badly. Amybow is much more of an optimist. And also - she has an incredible (almost pathological) empathy that can really get her down.

So she broke our mold and began telling funny stories about her girls. And it was a lovely break.

I have to admit, sometimes I scan the blogs I follow and find it all so very depressing. Complaints, illness, death, sorrow, joblessness, loneliness...it's all sometimes overwhelming. It's like watching the evening news - especially here in the NY metro area - where if we're lucky there is a 30 second good news spot in between the murder and mayhem.

Yesterday's post was a case in point. Although I think it is some of my better writing, it's not cheerful...not even at the end, when I consciously tried to spin it positive.

I am a glass half empty person. I admit it. And 3 days of dreary rain can also add to that feeling. So today, I vow to write something funny. It's going to take some effort. Imagine Pooh Bear and his "think, think, think" scene. But I'll find it. Stay tuned.

The phone rang

The phone rang.

It had been nearly a year since the last call of this type.   Her mother's voice told her something was wrong.  Dad's in the hospital.  An exhausting ordeal that included frightening words like broken ribs, MRI found an aortic aneurism, and narcotics reactions,  and urgent need for surgery.  The ordeal stretched on and after surgery included staph infection, 3 months of iv antibiotics, and loss of independence.  Finally the end of the tunnel was visible and although weaker, her father seemed better, nearly himself again.  Her mother, it seemed, would likely never be the same again.  Mom had seen the signs and had begun to ready herself, while she and her sisters and brothers continue to deny it.

The phone rang.

Even before answering, she knew it was not good.  Words like hospital, pneumonia, lungs, pain came across the line.  This time she wanted to stay in denial.  Last time had been too hard.  She let another sibling take the lead.  Let them suffer in the halls of the hospital this time...the waiting...the meds...the hallucinations...the not knowing...the never knowing.  

The phone rang.  

The news was not good.  Come now. Come now.  She went.  The news was bad.  Stage 4.  Pain management or treatment?  Her father was a fighter.  He wanted to try.  Treatment.  Immediate.  At the airport they all went their separate ways.  Mother and father with big sister home for new doctors and poison to kill the disease, but hopefully save the patient.  Other siblings flew separately to their own cities and their own lives.  She sat and waited.  Her flight was last.  She had kissed and waved everyone else away.  She sat.  And sat.

Opening her laptop she began to write.  One way that she could always find peace was to write it out.  But instead of writing of current events, she began writing of future...and of past.  What poured from her keyboard was a eulogy.  

The phone rang.

She was in another airport.  Only a short time had passed and much of it had been a blur.  Work, life, thinking...thinking...thinking.  Today she was on her way to her hometown to see her father and take part in the poison treatment and to make plans...of what kind she did not know yet. She was in the middle of the country...halfway between a conference and home...just a stop along the way.  The phone jerked her closer to home.  "I'll meet you at the airport." the voice said "and take you to the hospital.  The ambulance is on its way."

She boarded the plane in a haze.  Thinking. Thinking.  And needed to stop thinking.  She reached into the pocket of the seatback and found a gift.  Someone had left a book.  She buried her mind in the story and read it cover to cover on the short flight between the middle of the country and home.  The lives in this book were easier to manage than the pain that might await her.

The phone rang.

I'm here.  Come to the curb. He's in the ER.  We all surround the bed.  Sometimes he makes sense.  Sometimes it's nonsense.  Mostly he tells us he doesn't want to be a bother.  He tells us to save our money.  He tells us he loves us.  The doctors have other things to say.  Infection.  No immune system.  Only a matter of time.  Can we let him go? Sign this release.

She picked up the phone.

She made the call this time...to family and friends. Come quick.  Come say goodbye.  He wants to say goodbye.  She holds his hand.  Something is changing.  Call everyone to come now.  Wake them.  Get them up from the waiting room.  A tear trickles down his cheek.  His breathing changes and with a sigh, he is gone.

The phone rang.

And although she winces, she answers.  Not bad news. Relief. Normalcy.  It would be so easy to think of the phone as an enemy.  But she chooses to remember other times the phone rang.  When someone called to say they loved her.  To say they were proud.  To hear the latest on job. House. Husband. Hell, just to hear her voice.  And in her dreams, when the phone rings, she forces these conversations to the front.  And hears her Dad's joyful chuckles and stupid jokes, and hears the easiness in her Mom's voice, and hears the general news of the day from friends and family.  Just this day, this one day, does the phone still haunt her.  Seven years to the day since the call to his side was the last.

The travel fairy strikes again

How does one get from NYC to DC?  Well since so many crazy people do this commute on a daily or semi-weekly basis, there are several modes of transportation.  I debated between the two favorite - train or plane.  By train you can often be comfortably seated, enjoy wifi access most of the trip, and have access to a beverage or food car....but it is a longer trip and it is a little more difficult to get to from my office.  The plane option would be for the Delta or US Air shuttle out of LaGuardia.  This 40 minute flight doesn't even require that you go to a main terminal, but instead uses a small building with only 4-5 gates and a majority of travellers without luggage because, as I said, they actually fly back and forth every day.

Tossing a coin, I decided on the flight to get in at a relatively reasonable time of 8:30, hoping to get to hotel, grab a bite and be in bed by 11PM.

All was going according to plan and I didn't even stress as we pulled up at the terminal at 7:00 for my 7:29 flight because I knew I could get my boarding pass, get through security and get boarded and still have 10 minutes to spare.  And so it went...smooth operating kiosks, no line at security, and short walk to Gate 4.  I sat for 10 minutes answering emails, and then boarded the plane.

There are no seat assignments on the shuttle you are either Y or F.  As the flight attendant instructed me that is F=Fortunate (or First Class) and Y= Y am I not an F?  But please, these are super comfortable seats and it's a 45 minute flight.  No sweat.

I grabbed the first empty seat, pleased to have (as everyone else did) few enough passengers that we each had our own little row.  And so I comfortably took my seat.

And I sat.

And I sat.

And I sat.

And at 7:45PM the pilot said..."well...the fuel truck is on the other side of the bridge and the bridge has been closed by the secret service because of a Government plane and need for security...but we should be back on schedule shortly..."

And we sat.

And we sat.

And we sat.

At 8:15 more passengers began to board.  They were scheduled for the 8:30 shuttle, but since we had seats and were still at the gate...what the hell.

The empty seat next to me was soon filled and the man joyfully told the party on the other end of his phone he was likely to get home earlier than planned.

And then we sat.

And then we sat.

And then we sat.

At 8:50 the pilot assured us we were next in line to get fueled up and head out.

And suddenly at 9:05 we were pulling out.  Hurrah! We taxi'd out to the runway....

And you guessed it, we sat.

And we sat.

And we sat.

Finally, at 9:35 the engines roared and we lifted off.

The flight attendants hurried up and down the aisles with gourmet nuts and drinks and in a flash we were on the ground in DC.

Only 2 hours later than planned.

My reward.....

In room dining still serving at 11:20PM

And a comfy bed to sleep in.

Good night.

He Writes Me Every Day...Sometimes Twice A Day!

And, today it really made me smile.

****
Wenderina --


I'm writing to you on a great day for America.

This morning, I gathered with members of Congress, my administration, and hardworking volunteers from every part of the country to sign comprehensive health care reform into law. Thanks to the immeasurable efforts of so many, the dream of reform is now a reality.


The bill I just signed puts Americans in charge of our own health care by enacting three key changes:

It establishes the toughest patient protections in history.
It guarantees all Americans affordable health insurance options, extending coverage to 32 million who are currently uninsured.


And it reduces the cost of care -- cutting over 1 trillion dollars from the federal deficit over the next two decades.


To ensure a successful, stable transition, many of these changes will phase into full effect over the next several years.


But for millions of Americans, many of the benefits of reform will begin this year -- some even taking effect this afternoon. Here are just a few examples:


Small businesses will receive significant tax cuts, this year, to help them afford health coverage for all their employees.


Seniors will receive a rebate to reduce drug costs not yet covered under Medicare.


Young people will be allowed coverage under their parents' plan until the age of 26.

Early retirees will receive help to reduce premium costs.

Children will be protected against discrimination on the basis of medical history.


Uninsured Americans with pre-existing conditions can join a special high-risk pool to get the coverage they need, starting in just 90 days.


Insured Americans will be protected from seeing their insurance revoked when they get sick, or facing restrictive annual limits on the care they receive.


All Americans will benefit from significant new investments to train primary care doctors, nurses, and public health professionals, and the creation of state-level consumer assistance programs to help all patients understand and defend our new rights.

As I've said many times, and as I know to be true, this astounding victory could not have been achieved without your tireless efforts.


So as we celebrate this great day, I want to invite you to add your name where it belongs: alongside mine as a co-signer of this historic legislation. Organizing for America will record the names of co-signers as a permanent commemoration of those who came together to make this moment possible -- all of you who refused to give up until the dream of many generations for affordable, quality care for all Americans was finally fulfilled.


Please accept my thanks for your voice, for your courage, and for your indispensable partnership in the great work of creating change.

History, and I, are in your debt.

President Barack Obama
 
***
 
Only time will tell how effective this program will be.  But I'm convinced that progress - any progress - is better than none at all.  And as we lay in bed last night and wondered at this historic moment, Hubby and I both agreed that President Obama was gonna leave it all out there on the field.  He doesn't seem to be working toward that re-election, he seems to be working on his job.  He'll never fulfill all the promises and we're sure to be disappointed in the process, and some of the results, it's never going to be as pure in the detail as it is in the theory.  But he's doing what I voted for.  And that's more than I can say for most any other government official on my ballot last year.

Pocket Money

Today I put on my raincoat for the first time since November 24th.  How do I know the exact date, you ask?  Well...because there were contents in the pockets to give me a clue.

In one pocket a receipt from the local grocery store for foil, pecans, salad, and roast chicken.  Spent about $28.45....but receipt was for $128.45...because in the other pocket was the $100.00 cash I took out that day.

That cash has been sitting in my pocket for 4 months, almost to the day.

Makes me sound rich, that I can take out $100 and not miss it, but I assure you I likely did miss it, but thought I had spent it somehow and so declined to spend $100 on other things.  What I am is a little clueless.  A little short on attention to detail. 

I often reach into a pocket and find a $5 or a $10 that was change from something and never made it's way back to my wallet, but $100....that's a new one.  That's real pocket money. 

Shopping anyone?

In Memorial

A celebration of life was held for my cousin Brian this weekend.  How often do you attend a wake or a memorial service or funeral and find yourselves amongst friends and family talking of everything except the person who has passed?  This was not like that time.  Because Hubby and I arrived on Friday night, we spent a lot of time talking to Brian's sister and mother and learning about how things had been for Brian at the end.  Then on Saturday, talk turned to good memories as we went through family albums to find the pictures, newspaper articles, awards, and other items that could be displayed at the memorial.

We joked that Brian was the most famous of all of us - he had numerous articles in the paper about his athletics when he participated in special olympics and won the gold medal for track - posting a mile in under 7 minutes.  And not only was he a sprinter, he also ran a marathon.  We then shared a story of how he was once dropped off at a wrong bus-stop and had to walk home by himself.  His disability, which hindered him thinking about calling or asking for help, luckily allowed him to use his extreme memory and mapping capabilities to figure out the way home.  We laughed when we recalled that he was nearly home (no one even knowing that he had been walking back for 3 hours) when my father passed him on the road.  They both waved to one another and went on their way.  It wasn't until my father got home and related the story to my mother that he realized Brian shouldn't have been out walking on his own outside his neighborhood. 

We talked about how he had seemed to be a healthy "normal" baby until he started to get to his 2nd year and didn't have the language or motor skills development that they expected and this was when he was first tested for hearing loss and other disabilities.  We talked about how the psychiatrists had his diagnosis and meds wrong over the years and how remarkable his growth over the last 10 years have been once it was corrected.  We talked about challenges and triumphs, silliness and serious moments, we talked about it all and it was the most wonderful sharing experience.

On Sunday, we gathered at a nearby resort with views of the lake and the mountains and with so many friends and family to continue to remember him.  His sister was brave and eloquent talking of their childhood and about the wonderful things she learned from being the sibling of a developmentally disabled person.  A family friend also shared her 30 years of memories of Brian that was so heartfelt and touching.  I shared my own thoughts as did others.  I was so glad I was able to be there to be a part of it. 

The moment that still astonishes me, however, was the moment that a fellow resident of his group home stood in front of the 50-60 of us in attendance to read the poem she wrote on behalf of Brian for the family.  With her permission, I present it here.

I'm Looking Down on You All

I went the other day

As peaceful as can be

With my family and friends

Gathered around me.

I no longer will wake each morning

I no longer will sleep at night

I tried to win a battle

I no longer have to fight.

I was a very good person

Each day I tried to give

So do not shed a tear

Just celebrate how I lived.

Remember through the good, and the bad

In the sun and in the rain

No matter how hard life was

I stayed in the game.

How I died, and what I had

I do not wish to tell

But I am up in heaven

And all is good and well.

Keep me in mind, keep me in thought

And you will soon see

Keep me in heart, and let me rest

And do not dwell on me.

So family and friends

Do not cry, for I am not alone

My father came, as soon as I went

To bring me, peacefully home.

Once again, the gift this young woman gave our family astonished me and I was reminded of those same sage words. 

Different.  Not Less.

My Cat's Life

Tough, right?
(oh, and in case you were wondering, yes...she is sound asleep like that)

When to De-Friend

Hubby is a Facebook fan.  Me?  Not so much.  I tried it out...twice...and both times in a fit of disgust I deleted my profile and disappeared.  He has his tied to his blog and is totally interconnected.  Me? I disliked the real name profile and the crazy fan sites and the other virtual snowball type things.  And the status updates?  Ugh....I really don't care if you just picked your nose.

But Hubby just told me he finally crossed the threshold of "de-friending".  Up until now, anyone who came out of the woodwork he accepted them back with open arms.  Even the haters from high school.  The bullies.  The popular set that had no time for the likes of us back then.  The drama-ramas that make your eyes roll.  The stoners, the loners, the jocks, the nobody's...all were equalized if they were class of 1984 of his high school.

Many of these people he treated with kid gloves...not getting too close...no private wall conversations...no comments on strange status updates or posts.

But this weekend, he hit the de-friend button.

What pushed my mild-mannered loving democratic husband to the edge and over it?

Someone on his friend list joined a fan club.  I hesitate to even use the real name lest some google search engine link me to this disgusting group.  Let me try and use euphemisms...sorry there are none.  The fan club was "I wipe my ass with the K*ran".


If you came here responding to that phrase let me disclaim:
Neither Hubby nor I want anything to do with this disgusting and repulsive group.

When Hubby told me that this fan club even existed I nearly vomited.  The fact that someone that had been on his friend list joined it made us rage.  We have a copy of the Koran on our bookshelf.  We also have several versions of the Bible, a book on the Life of Mohammed, and books on the history of Judaism.  We are not religious, and I even question the existence of God on a daily basis, but Hubby has faith....true, deep and abiding faith in some higher being. And he also has a healthy curiosity about the origins of faith, the structure of religions, and the strong soul-deep beliefs that cause people to fight wars on one side and preach peace on the other. Regardless of our own personal feelings we could never imagine denigrating anyone else's beliefs in such a way as this group.

Ok, I'll admit, I have sometimes made plain my complaints about organized religion.  And the Catholic Church makes me kind of nutso sometimes.  But not the people so much as the rhetoric.  Regardless, if I EVER made anyone feel as upset and sick as the idea of this fan club felt to me, I truly and humbly apologize.  My soapbox should be burned on my own front lawn like a burning cross.

But before we get to that little home made conflagration, let's set a little fire over at Facebook.   I'd like to see Facebook take a moment to take responsibility for this incredibly repulsive use of their site.  How can they allow their subscribers to even create such a repulsive community link?

I didn't think I could be any more disappointed in Facebook than I was on my last try at it.  I was so wrong.

House Blogging

VERY interesting episode of HOUSE last night with the blogger who was sick.  The debate about the value of connecting with people with common interests vs. recording (and living) your life as a voyeuristic exercise was fascinating.  And in the end, the woman who reveals everything about herself on the internet failed to reveal the one thing that would help the diagnosis because "People don't want to read about that."

I love blogging and I totally related to the character when she said, "I hate that you don't have a blog, I never know what you are thinking."

I've always been more comfortable with the written word than the spoken.  And while I certainly edit my writing and my content here, I'm more likely to remain silent in a verbal conversation because I'm not sure I trust (a) how to say at that moment what I want to say and (b) how to handle the reaction I might get.  I mean let's face it, while I have luckily not had to do it yet on this site, I can just delete any responses I get!  No need to engage in a lengthy debate or uncomfortable confrontation.

Am I short changing people in my life who don't read my blog?  Am I short changing people in my life who are represented in my blog?  Do I edit too little? too much? Do I share too little? too much?

I have one very very dear friend who doesn't read my blog.  She asks me if that bothers me.  I always answer no.  And it doesn't, from an audience readership perspective.  She is and always will be my dear friend.  But I feel that since we don't see each other, or talk, as often as we'd like, that she is missing out on participating in my life.  Her life is busy and blogging is not a part of her life.  I don't feel the need to force her into it.  It's ok that she doesn't know about what was on HOUSE last night and what I thought about it, But, she also doesn't know my cousin passed away yet.  And that's important.  And that may be IS more my failing than hers.  Pick up the phone Wenderina.  Stop by her house.  She lives 1 mile away.  Blogging may be a little bit of a social crutch that I have to work around.

But hey, I haven't got all the answers, and from what I can see, you all don't either.  For someone like me who has long work hours, a shy attitude toward meeting new people (outside of work - where for some reason I'm more outgoing), and no kids to create that mommy network that adds to your community, this has been a rewarding experience.

I get to say what I think - or at least what I want to share about what I think.  Family and friends who read this get to keep up with the big and more often the little things in my life.  I get to purge emotions.  Laugh about little foibles.  Write something down other than a christmas letter capsule of a year or a technical engineering proposal.

I'm ok with my blog approach.  The character on HOUSE was a little over the top.  What about you and your blog?  Is your relationship healthy?