Cockroaches in the Kitchen

I arrived at the office this morning, and no sooner had I said my good mornings when someone barrelled down the aisle with the news, "There are cockroaches in the kitchen!"

Now our office has had our share of critters and varmints including mice, ants, and even a baby mole...but I had not encountered the dreaded cockroach before.

And apparently, they were not discovered in the dark recesses of a cabinet under the sink either, but rather openly skittering across the counters and even on top of the coffee machine.

{pause for me to shiver uncontrollably at the disgusting horror of these bugs}

As I spent most of the day nervously twitching my feet, brushing at imaginary tickles on my arms, and frequently brushing my hair, I recalled my first run-in with the cockroach.

Hubby had taken an apartment in an historic district of Rochester NY - East Avenue, a few blocks away from several landmarks such as the George Eastman House and the Asbury Methodist Church. The building, we were told, used to house railroad workers and had been a boarding room house. At some point in its history someone had taken the initiative to reconfigure all the single rooms into various apartments - some odder in shape than others - and turn it into a rental apartment building.

Hubby, being a poor 21 year old, had taken a "studio" that included a main living space, a tiny galley kitchen, an antique bathroom, an odd little closet next to the bathroom that was completely filled by the ancient fridge, and another un-named room (I think it was supposed to be like a changing area?) that was the pathway into another closet. The "changing room" actually fit a double mattress from wall to wall and therefore become the "sleeping closet" so that the living area didn't have to include a mattress.

Hubby used much of my hand-me-down furniture from college as I had graduated and moved back in with the folks. So he had the typical odd assortment of milk crates, half-broken chairs, platform with a mattress topper and bolster pillows that passed for a couch, and cheap and stained area rugs. The apartment used to get so hot in the summer that Hubby would walk a block down to the grocery store and just wander the frozen food aisle trying to cool down. The kitchen was so tiny that if you stood in the wrong way and opened the oven you could burn your ass on the radiator behind you. But it was his first place and we loved it.

One weekend, we had a friend in town with her boyfriend and we all stayed at the apartment. Since most of us were still living with our parents, it was a real treat to have a place of our own to feel like we were (almost) grown-up. While Hubby and I (then engaged) took our spot in the sleeping closet, our friends took a spare mattress in the living room.

We were awakened in the night by a primal scream from my friend who found cockroaches crawling through her beautiful blonde hair. Of course, we were mortified and had never seen a cockroach in the apartment prior to that day. We found out later that the neighbor was renovating her kitchen and in tearing out all the cabinetry and plumbing had dislodged a colony who scattered to the four corners of the building seeking asylum.

Since that time I've come across them in the south (although they quaintly refer to these large cousins of the cockroach as water bugs) and had to do my share of screaming and then squashing the critters. But I've never gotten over my horror.

I find it vastly ironic that should the worst nuclear disaster occur, they may be the only survivors on the planet. But, I guess as long as I don't have to live here with large, unexterminatable, mutant, radioactive cockroaches, I'm o.k. with that.

The Hard Part

Yesterday some friends came by for a holiday weekend BBQ. The first of the season. It was a beautiful warm spring/early summer day and just perfect for relaxing outdoors and enjoying friends' company.

During the course of the day, we talked a little about recent films we had seen. Hubby and I had just finished watching The Kite Runner, and I talked about how although I knew the story from the book - and as always, the book is much better - it was well made and it had touched me deeply, and the last line had caused me to cry.

Our friends told me they had recently seen "No Country for Old Men" and "There Must Be Blood". Shaking my head emphatically I said, "those look too hard for me...a lot of violence and depression." Given that I had just watched a film about war-torn afghanistan, the rape of children, and the depravity of religious fanatics, this statement was a little off kilter. And as only good friends can, they called me on it.

How can I claim to be a film fan and avoid some of the best and most recognized films in recent history? Will I allow myself to be relegated to an audience of "chick flicks"? Even Kite Runner, if it had not been such a popular book among my girlfriends, would I have picked it up and read it? Would I have learned about the history, the sadness, and the horrors of living in Afghanistan over the last several decades?

As this was on my mind today, I ran across a column in the news entitled, Why Didn't We Listen To Their Stories? The columnist talks about the forgotten heroes of World War I and how, upon their return, they were discouraged from discussing their experiences and telling their stories. Americans, the columnist supposes, are only interested in tales of horror that have entertainment value. I'm not sure I agree with this as a total truth, but after yesterdays' discussion I fully admit to often selectively avoiding unpleasantness and the difficult subject of war, poverty, politics, except in their most elevated and clean hypothetical nature.

I have a nephew by marriage who continues to serve our country and has served in two actions that I know of. One recently in Iraq and prior to that in a tour of duty in Bosnia. I've never asked him about these tours, telling myself that he doesn't wish to talk about them. But do I really know he doesn't want to speak of them? I want to respect his sense of privacy, duty, honor, and I want to recognize them as well. How is it best to face the horrors that exist in this world? Through movies, books, and sanitized or dramatized entertainment? Or through the personal experiences of those we know and love?

According to the columnist, "Do we honor our veterans for all their sacrifices, or do we care only if they can tell us a good story? And who, then, is guilty of ingratitude?"

On this Memorial Day 2008 I will try to take a moment from the BBQs, picnics, sunbathing, and general enjoyment of a day off, and think about the hard part that makes the country - with all its many faults - still great. The people. And in particular the men and women of the armed forces who stand on a wall, or make ready on their ship, or guard us from the air, and make the tough choices every day. They will live and die by their honor and by their code. And regardless of whether you agree with any or every action in which they partake, they do it on our behalf.

Thank you to all active and inactive, living and deceased, who havedone, not just their part, but the hard part.

I'm a Little Bored, Are You Bored?

So I really want to jumpstart my blogging again, but the ideas keep sliding out of my head. I really have to keep a notebook handy cuz it seems when I'm driving, or waking in the middle of the night, showering, or other necessary daily things is when I have a BRILLIANT idea, and then, in typical Wenderina fashion, when I hit the keyboard, I'm blank.

So I'm taking a tip from some of my favorite bloggers and asking you to de-lurk and ask me some questions - no question is too stupid to answer...however I do not vouch for the level of intelligence in my response.

Back to Normal - Sort Of

Well after hosting Mom's annual visit here (thanks again Mom - I always appreciate that you make many more trips here than I do there) and a quick business trip to Birmingham AL for work and play (thanks Paddy, Edel, Conor and Lauren for a lovely stay at Chez F), things should begin to settle back to normal...or as normal as it gets around here.

Last week when we visited with Little Man A and family, we had the added honor of serving as courier service for the always wonderful and entertaining Zeze's 5-year scrapbook. You see, Little Man A's talented Mom has taken her amateur status pro and she's doing scrapbooking for others. I was stunned by the beautiful job she did with Zeze's scrapbook. Because Kiki is a strict no photo blogger, I did not scan to share any of the pages, but I was so tempted...the layouts were so creative and the scrapbook is not just an album, but an heirloom.

So A's Mom is open for business and I arrived in time to deliver her next assignment...my wedding album. Yes folks, in october we will be celebrating our 19th anniversary and we have no wedding album. So, I decided to give her a real challenge. Take 19 year old photos of a 1989 (god the fashion and hairdo horrors) and turn it into a classy scrapbook/keepsake that I will be able to look at without cringing and maybe figure out a way to insert a little style that I obviously did not have at that time (excuse: age 22). Quite a task...but I know A's Mom is up to it. You just have to see her creative work to know it.... like this, and this, and this. Her website is being built and I'll be happy to announce it with fanfare when up and running for business. In the meantime, if you have any interest, visit her blog and leave her a comment here.

As I dug through old cards, love notes, letters, and keepsakes to add to the wedding photos, I was amazed at how time has flown by. I even stumbled onto my senior banquet (high school) program, in which predictions were made for each of the class members. I laughed when I read mine, which said, "Wenderina will still be saying, 'Oh My God! I totally forgot!!" I laughed because I actually believed my memory issues were a recent development (due to the diet pepsi poisoning) AND that I had "totally forgotten" that this was even my class prophecy.

So, I'm back to trying to blog more often, getting crap out of my brain to provide fodder for all of you...and I'm trying to REMEMBER stuff and not live up to my prophecy...and I'm really looking forward to that wedding album...but no pressure for A's Mom...since it has been 19 years already.

A Word or Two from Abe and Little Man A

This week my Mom and I took a quick trip to visit with Little Man A and his mom and dad. And they took us to see some sites in nearby D.C.

I've wanted to see the Lincoln Memorial for many years and finally made it happen.

And if you haven't read the Gettysburg Address lately, let me just say, it's worth returning to it. Reading it now it makes a much greater impression than the required reading in middle school.

"Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation, so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate—we can not consecrate—we can not hallow—this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced.

It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

After our passage through the Lincoln, Korean, World Wars I and II Memorials, and a quick trip to the Smithsonian, we headed back to Little Man A's place and spent quality time with our dear great-nephew/great-grandson.

Little Man A decided mud-pies would be the best dessert for such a wonderful day.

As always, he was right.

Management Woes

This speaks to me.

Dads and Moms

This weekend I was thinking of my Dad because I was wearing jeans.

Is that a sentence you ever thought you would read?

Well, it's true. I hardly ever wear jeans. I'm usually in dress clothes for work, or in pajamas. There really is very little in between for me. Sometimes I dress up from the P.J.s into sweats. But for the most part, I'm at one end of the spectrum or the other.

But when I have school, I get the jeans out.

Funny though, when I was in school for my undergrad, I sometimes went to class in PJs.

Anyway, the jeans...well...after my Dad passed away, my mom, my sister, my brother and I went through some of his clothes. I selected a handful of sweatshirts or flannels that would be nice to have to cuddle up in once in a while. But what I really love is an old belt of his. This belt is really worn down, and it doesn't have it's loop any longer, but it is wide and black, with a big worn out and scratched silver buckle and it's perfect with my jeans.

It used to hang down in his workshop in the basement. I have no idea why it was there, but that's where I found it. Now it hangs on a hook in my closet, and it's just a little momento that takes me home again.

----

On Thursday my Mom will be here. After Dad died, we started a tradition - although we didn't know it would become tradition - for her to come for an extended stay in the Spring. We tend to center it around Mother's Day, and I usually put her to work in my garden. Because I HATE gardening, but I love gardens, and she is one MEAN gardener.

This year, I've contracted a landscaper to do all the mulching, edging, and weeding to get us started. Usually this is the backbreaking work my mom does while I'm at the office. But this year we're going to see A's Mom (my niece, Mom's grandaughter) and Little Man A (Mom's great grandson, my great-nephew) for a few days and won't it be nice that all we need to concentrate on is buying and planting some flowers.

I have to admit, I'm usually stressed until she gets here - making sure house is clean, office work is done (so I can take the week off), guest room is prepared, groceries for more than 1 day in advance (frozen pizzas and expired salad dressings do NOT count by the way) etc. etc. You know, all those things we do to make our moms proud of our home-making abilities. But, truth is, I really look forward to this tradition - and the one on one time Mom and I get to have for the week, the way she helps me slow down my pace in one way (office/work) and pick it up in others (getting out of house, yardwork, etc). And the time flies by when she is here. And when we are not being Alpha females and fighting over applesauce (long story), we are really pretty good friends.

-----

I'm sure at least once while she's visiting, I'll break out the jeans, and put on the belt, and the three of us will be together again.

----

And at the end of her stay, we'll be joined by my favorite brother-in-law and Unc, probably my in-laws, and a maybe even a few friends, and we'll finish off the week with a nice couple of days of food, family, and friends.

----

Dad would love it.

Mastery, Maturity, and Mondays

What can someone expect from a graduate program these days? A friend of mine who completed the masters program I'm currently enrolled in told me, "You get from it, what you bring to it." A good philosophy.




This weekend I completed semester #3 in my quest for a Master's degree at Manhattanville College in Purchase NY. This program is staffed by instructors who are extremely knowledgable about their subject matter, but are not teachers by trade. Therefore, the classes are more like an anecdotal history of their job experience than they are a structured educational program.


That being said, by doing the readings (and being aware through the Wall Street Journal, NY Times, NPR, CBS, and other media of ongoing current events) there is a way to develop a new knowledge of a subject matter and use these experts for 30 hours of targeted research assistance.


Through these teachers I've learned about professional association sources, on-line free tools, regulatory databases, career data, public information sources, and other related information I've never been exposed to before.


I've also learned that I'm a better student now than I was when I was 19. I take the assignments seriously, I participate in class, I wouldn't even consider skipping class (or even arriving late!), and I bring more curiosity and interest into the learning process and environment. The one thing I have in common with the 19-year old is the dread of getting up on a Saturday morning and getting to class...but I do it...and I'm there on time.


I had a long conversation with my most recent instructor on Saturday after some of the class had delivered their final project. The assignment was a brief press release for an earnings statement for a public company. We were to select the company and research recent earnings releases, make assumptions for the next reporting quarter, and draft a fictitious press release. Some of the people came to class with a 20-slide powerpoint presentation with history of the company, comparative graphs with other companies in the same industry, inflection point articles, etc.


Impressive, but not what she asked for. And on top of it the press release WAS ALL WRONG. It was painfully obviously that some of these students have little to no business experience because (a) you never deliver more to your boss than they ask you for - they simply don't have time to review a 20 slide presentation if they didn't want it and (b) when you deliver what they asked for, you do it right! They don't need to see that you put in 40 hours of work to get there. The presentation demonstrated that they had done their background work - and is good to show comprehensive use of the tools she taught - but at the end of the day, its the deliverable that counts.


This to me should be the difference between an undergraduate and a graduate experience. Bringing a mature mindset to the class and thinking (especially in a graduate of business program) like a business person.


This morning my teacher sent me an email with my grade - an A. I was feeling pretty good (for a Monday) about how quickly those three semesters have gone by and my 4.0 average, and then I realized that at my current pace (1 class/semester and giving myself summers off) I won't be done until February of 2011 and I'll be 44 years old. Ugh.


Oh well. The way time is flying by it will go fast enough. And my 40+ year old brain can't learn much faster than that pace anyway.


Happy Monday.

Me & Amybow & Instant Messenger

Wenderina[10:10 AM]:
Wanna laugh?

Amybow [10:11 AM]:
i love to laugh

Wenderina[10:11 AM]:
Gina got a comment on a slide that said FBSTCHAC.

Amybow [10:11 AM]:
???

Wenderina [10:11 AM]:
She assumed it was some kind of technical acronym and put it where they had written it.
On the next draft they commented again (in a rather condescending way)
FBSTCHAC does NOT belong on the slide.
It means Fix Background So That Column Headers Are Clear.
DUH.

Amybow [10:12 AM]:
WHO THE HELL WOULD KNOW THAT

Wenderina [10:12 AM]:
How could we NOT know that?

Amybow [10:12 AM]:
was this some young, text messaging wippersnapper?

Wenderina [10:12 AM]:
No. Just new to us.

I even Googled it to see if it was some editor's note that we just weren't familiar with. No result.

Amybow [10:12 AM]:
Should we add it to acronym finder?

Wenderina [10:12 AM]:
I should do that.
Too funny.

Amybow[10:12 AM]:
that is really funny.
people are nuts

Amybow [10:14 AM]:
ETROYD

Wenderina [10:14 AM]:
???

Amybow [10:14 AM]:
enjoy the rest of your day
i figure i can make up acronyms like anyone else

Wenderina[10:14 AM]:
You are the COOLEST

Amybow [10:15 AM]:
you know it

Editor's Note: Another productive work day.

Room with a View

No words necessary.

The New & Improved Wenderina Bathing Suite

OK. As mentioned in my previous post, this wasn't my ideal solution, but I have to say...it is pretty awesome to have a new and improved bathing area. Joy is going to weep with...well...joy. She has been scrubbing the old tub and shower so hard to try and make it look clean, even though I kept telling her you can't clean wear and tear.

Here are the AFTER shots I promised. I can barely wait the required 24 hours to get in and try it out!

If you look really closely you can see my reflection! Now that's a novelty in this bathroom!

WFH, DIY, WTF

WFH (Working From Home) is on the board at work for me today. Today I finally get rid of my old decrepit tub and shower. It wasn't exactly perfectly planned. I had hoped to cut all the pretty pictures from magazines over the next year or so, I had planned to pour over all the various ceramic, stone, glass tile possibilities. I had planned to find SOME WAY to get glass block incorporated - just because I love glass block. But all of that planning had to be negated because it started raining...inside...one floor below my tub/shower. Not good.

We valiantly attempted to fix it ourselves. Hubby was a trooper. Reading up on tiling on the internet, asking my sister (the epitomy of DIY) for tips, and finally diving in with a putty knife and some new grout. He peeled off the old 1930's subway tiles (or actually he touched them and they fell off) and I helped him trim the old grout off the back and the edges. He carefully stacked them and let the wall dry in preparation. We sponge bathed for a day or two to ensure it was totally dry and then he dove in with the mastik/grout. He smoothed it on like peanut butter like the books said, and stuck the first tile to the wall, gently wiping the excess off. All good. The next tile in the row went up the same, then the next, and the next. Finally it was time to put the last tile for that row in place.

It didn't fit.

W went through the entire stack and none of them seemed to fit. They had come off this wall...wouldn't they go back on? It seemed not. Hubby decided it was a question of pressure and leverage. He carefully pressed the tile into place, pushing and squeezing, patiently trying to get the last edge against the wall. And then, just as the tile flattened against the wall and we experienced a mili-second of triumph, two other tiles in that row fell off. Um. Yeah. I quickly covered the giggle that threatened to explode watching Hubby's face for exploding fury. He didn't explode. He calmly picked up the fallen tiles, scraped them off, and tried again. Slowly and patiently he pressed the last tile in place...and two different tiles fell off. This time it was Hubby who chuckled, allowing me to release my pent up laughter. This is NOT how Norm and the Guys do this stuff on This Old House.

After several attempts and every row of tile completed except for one tile in each row (this problem repeated over 5 rows of tile), we gave up. Hubby went to the store and bought some new tiles - a little shorter - and a little different color (since they aren't like 80 years old) and placed them. Extra grout around the edges helped make up the difference.

It wasn't pretty, but all we wanted was to gain the time we needed to do that planning thing I referred to. We let everything dry and ran the water again.

Within a day, it was raining in the kitchen again.

WTF?

We attempted to eliminate all other possibilities. Was it coming from a pipe? The drain? The coping around the tub edge? So for the past several weeks, we've been showering amidst plastic wrap, duct tape, and grungy grout droppings. We eliminated plumbing as a part of the problem and returned to recognizing something in the tiling or tub was leaking. It was time to give up and call in the experts.

We knew we didn't have the big bucks for a total bath re-do, so we called Bathfitters and today one lonely guy with a lot of equipment is here to repair? replace? well, re-cover our tub and shower.

Here are some before shots:

None of that cruddy stuff in the tub is dirt by the way. Joy wouldn't allow it. It is simply 80 years of wear and tear. The peeling and shredding wall board above the tub has been repaired by us at least twice since we've lived here...hence our decision to take the bathfitter solution to the ceiling!

After shots will be posted when he's done.

Fingers crossed.

It Takes a Village to Live My Life

Over the past few years, I've become a fan of outsourcing. Growing up, we never hired anyone. My father was the general fix it guy and helped to build our house and then keep it up over the years. His electrical work often left a variety of switches that turned on and off with a puzzling lack of activity in the lights, but all in all he got it done.

My mother was the talented gardner and cook and had the house running like a swiss watch, while still keeping a teaching career going. While I never really took to the cooking thing, and barely absorbed the rules of cleaning, I was a pretty good laborer, and did things like helping my father build a deck, mowing the lawn, vacuuming and skimming the pool, and weekly chores of cleaning.

Cooking was never my talent (or interest) however, despite my mom's best efforts to teach me. I famously screwed up (and still do) the simplest of recipes. I could not understand why the dough for my chocolate chip bars came out so soupy...until my mom reviewed the recipe with me and discovered where it said 2-1/2 cups of flour I had read that as two half cups of flour. Ok. I'm an idiot. I never even considered that if they meant two half cups, they would have said 1 cup. Duh. And the idea of timing several dishes at once for a meal...terrifying.

I always told my mother, when she despaired of my lack of culinary and domestic interest, that I would marry a wealthy man who could provide me with a cook, a housekeeper, and all of the services I would require to live a life of leisure.

Right.

Well, I married the next best thing. A man with talent, who can cook, and who does handy jobs around the house, and eventually, we began to earn enough TOGETHER to pay for some of those little luxuries.

Cleaning. A lovely lady, aptly named Joy, comes to our house every other week and cleans. She sweeps and mops, dusts and deordorizes, scrubs and squeegies, and does all of the things I used to do "when I got around to it" - loosely translated this means "when company is coming." When I come home on her cleaning days, I truly feel JOY. I recommended her to a friend whose husband was so overJOYed at her work that he exclaimed, "My God, Mary Poppins has come into our lives."

Lawn Service. Ever since we moved from a townhouse - where all the grounds and snow removal, etc. were handled by a maintenance crew, we have contracted with a lawn service to do fall cleanup, spring cleanup, and weekly mowing. In the winter they also plow our drive. This year we are adding lawn treatments since the crab grass and dandelions are taking over completely. We don't even own a lawn mower. I used to find this embarrassing until I started to look up and down my street and realized all of my neighbors use services too.

Pool Service. The first few years we owned the house we used a private service to open and close our pool for the season. Mostly because we were afraid that if we did it wrong it would mean expensive fixes. Last year, after he flooded our basement by leaving filter hoses unhooked by the basement window and leaving the property for 5 hours, we decided we couldn't do much worse. (Of course that was before my weak grip lost hold of the cover and dumped pounds and pounds of wet rotting leaves into the pool...yeah...) Many times I think it would be best if we got this service going again, but Hubby seems to have it under control.

Car Service. I use car services to get to the airports. Living outside of the metropolitan NY area means JFK or LaGuardia. Travel is stressful enough to me without worrying about battling the highways and byways of NYC when under a time pressure. Let someone else worry about that.

Electricians, Plumbers, Contractors. Now this is suitable. You can't expect the average homeowner to get into these areas of special skills. And Hubby does an admirable job of the little stuff - from leaks to re-wiring, to dryer repair and crown moulding...he does pretty damn good for an IT guy with an artistic bent.

Today, I looked up peapod...the on-line grocery order service that allows you to place an order and they deliver it to your house.

I was equally relieved and dismayed that it does not yet serve my zip code area. I guess this is one service I cannot yet outsource. In the process of Googling this service however, I did find a way to hopefully improve my grocery capabilities...the ULTIMATE GROCERY LIST.

See, there's always someone out there willing to try and make my life a little easier.

It does seem take a village to live my life. Either that or I'm a spoiled brat.

Sliding Doors...What IF....

One of my favorite films is Sliding Doors. Granted, it's a bit of a chick flick, but it poses so many interesting questions. The "What If's" of life. You know, like:

What IF, I didn't make that light before it changed?

What IF, my life was forced to make a radical change?

What IF, two paths diverged into a wood, and I...(oops sorry, I digress).

So the writers of this flick take this concept (which I loved) and make it happen. They show the main character - Helen - and two divergent life paths. One triggered by making the last train home, and the other where she misses it. Following two Helen's for most of the film you see how single moments can change a life forever. One leads her home to find her boyfriend Gerry in bed with another woman, the other delays her return until the coast is clear and he gets away with his tryst without a hitch.

The supporting characters made it truly memorable...like Gerry's friend Russell whose sole job is to sit in the pub, listening the Gerry's tales of trying to balance a girlfriend and a mistress, and laughing at Gerry's self-imposed misery.

Example #1:

Russell: "Sorry, let me just... Lydia's becoming more and more demanding and you feel bad because Helen's working night and day to keep the money coming in. But you've asked Helen to come on a research trip to Dorset with you - knowing that she wouldn't be able to - to cover up the fact that you're really taking Lydia. And despite the fact that Lydia gave you an out on the phone - which you didn't take - you're having a moral dilemma. [pause] Gerry, you are a morality-free zone. "

[later, laughing hysterically] Russell: "I must say, being friends with you certainly makes the wait for the next episode of "Seinfeld" much easier to bear."

------

And Gerry's mistress Lydia? She is a true nutcase - played to perfection by Jeanne Triplehorn. She could have easily been cut and paste into Glenn Close's part in that slightly more famous psycho mistress part in Fatal Attraction.

Example #2:

Lydia: "Gerry, I'm a woman! We don't say what we WANT! But we reserve the right to get pissed off if we don't get it.

That's what makes us so fascinating!

And not a little bit scary."

(I had to pack that one in my brain for future use!)

------

Example #3:

The adorable James (played by John Hannah) and Helen (played by Gwyneth Paltrow) and their quick witted lines, done in charming scottish and british accents, respectively.

James: What are you doing two weeks on Saturday?
Helen: Probably killing myself.
James: Excellent. What time does that finish? Do you like boats?

------

I will warn you that when the stories re-converge you may be in for a nasty shock. You see, the inevitability of the story is that the two parallels cannot continue and must at some time re-align to a single life's journey. The first time I saw this movie, I actually yelled at the television. Really. And I threw popcorn too. I was that put out. But have faith.

Remember what the Monty Python Boys always say?
(inside joke, if you don't get it...see the movie!)

P.S. Hey Mom - if you're reading this...I have the movie on the DVR...we'll be watching it when you visit!

History Class Was Never Like This...

When I was in high school, social studies was my worst class. It was mostly taught by overweight boring white males who didn't want to be in that classroom any more than I did. So it surprised me when I started liking history...or at least dramatized (or fictionalized?) history as an adult. But I have to say, history class was never like this...

I've been watching The Tudors.

(Is this a historical show promotion? or the cover of the next big Harlequin Romance?)

TV-MA is the right rating for this royal orgy of a show. Where else do you get to see Ann Boleyn invite a hot young studly king (wasn't he supposed to be portly and have gout?) to "come soon to my hot bed." I've been slightly confused by the story line, probably because I was also reading The Other Boleyn Girl at the same time...

(Look at this book cover! Do you think Philippa Gregory is a new pen name for Danielle Steele?)

...and since both took artistic license with timelines, characters, and...well...facts...I keep getting my historical figures confused.




My confusion is compounded by the fact that I read The Autobiography of Henry VIII by Margaret George (and yes, while the title is "The Autobiography", it was not in fact penned by Hank himself, but is a fictionalized diary accounting of his life and times) about 20 years ago, and little bits of the story are still stuck in the nooks and crannies of my brain.



(Now, while I expect this is closer to what the man looked like, you can't trust a novelist who also writes "The Memoirs of Cleopatra" and "Mary Queen of Scotland and the Isles"...but all kidding aside these 1000+ page books were pretty absorbing to read.)


Another of my favorites was Rome - the HBO mini-series.



Again, filled with fine looking men and women - all with beautiful white straight teeth - and many unique sexual adventures (I guess this is what they did before tv?). The political and social intricacies of this historical lesson could put any day-time (or prime-time) soap to shame.

(They were a cute couple until he threw her over the railing to her death....sigh...true love)

With names like Titus Pullo, can you blame the writers of Rome for going for the cheap thrills and jokes?

Much tamer, and yet similarly treated, has been another HBO mini-series, John Adams that just completed its 7 episode run.

(Not quite the hollywood look the others went for eh?)

No royal orgies here...just an ugly whiney patriot, his brilliant if hairstyle-challenged wife, and several bizarre children and their progeny. Since I am a huge fan of all things Tom Hanks, and this was his project, I tend to believe he didn't take too much license here and built as much from historical records, correspondence, and reliable documentation as possible. In fact the website for the show has an interactive timeline, history lessons, and lots of social studies-esque content. Yet they couldn't resist a few scandals, intrigue, and the intimate one-on-one conversations that could not possibly have been recorded.


It was particularly amusing, and not a little bit ironic, in one of the last scenes where Adams is called to Philadelphia to view the famous painting of the signing of the Declaration of Independence and he scoffs at the fiction depicted...none of the signers were ever in the same room together at the same time, none of them ever looked peacable while signing, and their "shins" were never so well shown. Adams despairs at the fact that the true story of their independence is now lost in myth and fiction.


I guess we can all say the same about our own history. Whether recent or distant, all of our memories and recollections are colored by point of view, prejudices, human tendency to fill in the blanks, or just simply time. And as a woman of particularly poor powers of recollection, I'm more susceptible than most to not only forget, but to fill in all the blanks with fictions.


Following in the models set by the above examples, it could make for a pretty spicey memoir though, don't you think?

"Guiding the Way for Others"....

I received my plaque this week for my Avid Advocate award. Engraved on it is the phrase "Guiding the Way for Others"...


Yay.


I'm a trailblazer.


For a bunch of high maintenance crazy people.


Honestly, do all managers feel like this?


When I had my previous group (all of two people) I never felt this way...I never complained about them...I never worried about their performance...giving reviews was a joy!

This week is self-evaluation week for the majority of my team. This past month has probably been the most active with complaints about their work, well, ever. I have a notebook full of my documentation of calls, emails, conversations about problems. Then, today? four of them called me to a meeting to discuss a fifth. They were united in their frustration. Some of the things they said about this person? were crazy scary.

1. We feel uncomfortable approaching her...she is always negative and harsh.

2. She makes childlike complaints and her craftiness puts us on the defense.

3. She puts us in a non-trusting position.

4. We don't agree with how she represents us as a group.

5. She always uses defensive tones, attacking questions, and harsh statements that make us feel we need to defend our positions and roles.

6. She actively eavesdrops but does not join discussions.

And the topper?

7. We feel she WANTS the group and the individuals in it to fail.

Yay.

All I want to do is hide under the covers and not come out. But next week I have to work them through their self evaluation process, then provide my ratings and salary reviews. THEN, I need to tackle the totally separate question of what to do with the "fifth wheel" before an out and out revolt occurs.

Can I give the plaque back and stop guiding the way?

Just F-ing Do It

Do you ever have one of those days where you feel you may be the only one with a brain? Conversely, do you ever have one of those days where you feel pretty brainless?

Today was of the former. It seemed everything I needed from everyone else resulted in a blank stare and total lack of ownership.

Normally I would type in the examples of it here and make some funny blog material out of my pain, but you know what? I'm just too frustrated to do that. I just want to call up these people and say, "Just F-ing Do It!!!!!" Come on people. You are driving me crazy!

My boss (who as I continually tell people - is the bomb) gave me excellent advice about how this was not my responsibility, and how I should have pushed most of this stuff back out to the truly responsible people. While I appreciate it and know she is right, do you know that feeling you get, like that would be swell if I just had another week to get this done, but since I don't, I have to solve it first, dissect it second, and get people to get it right the next time? (Please tell me I'm not the only one who has those feelings!).

On the flip side, I've scheduled Friday off. Because you know what...I wasn't kidding about that note about getting perspective from last Friday, and it is supposed to be a beautiful Spring day. There is nothing going on this Friday that cannot go on without me.

I'll be in my yard, on my hammock (rescued from winter storage), or perhaps getting busy with some garden cleanup should I be so inspired.

I anticipate my Friday Feelings this week will be relaxation, relief, and restoration.

Friday Feelings

Mixed Feelings Today -

TRIUMPHANT
SAD
GRATEFUL

I just completed one of the most grueling first quarter periods of my life. My company holds an annual shareholders' meeting and this year a great deal of the prep and execution fell to our marketing team. I was tapped to Project Manage the President's presentation, the Chairman's presentation, the Year in Review video (a first), an Annual Report (another first), and the officer's workshop on Going Global. When these assignments first began pouring in I was NOT feeling Triumphant...I was feeling OVERWHELMED!

But after taking a deep breath, talking to my fabulous boss, tapping in to the many talented people in our team, I was feeling better. Still, it was a lot to deliver on top of my usual workload, AND culminating all on the same deadline.

The end result - huge and (almost) universal positive feedback.

The tinges of sadness come from finally getting a chance to speak with a friend and colleague over drinks last night and learning of his ongoing battle with cancer. The cancer is incurable, but "controllable" with careful monitoring. I didn't press a great deal for details, since this was the first time he had shared this with me, so I can only imagine what is in his future...and how long a future that may be.

While I continue to feel triumphant about the success of these meetings, I could not have asked for a more vivid reminder of how short life is and not to waste time on unimportant matters. My friend has a wife and two daughters, he has a beautiful and wicked sense of humor, he has a brilliant mind, he has a kind and giving heart, and he is simply a good man to know. I hope I learn from him to find joy and to get rid of some of the bullshit in life.

I'm grateful to know this man and to have the opportunity to prioritize time with him. I'm grateful that he came through the original crisis after diagnosis and has a fighting chance to enjoy some more great moments in life. I'm grateful for so many things in my own life, not the least of which is the good health of my immediate family.

So triumph at work is pretty cool. But it is good to remember it's just a job.

There Should Be A Rule

There should be a rule that tear-jerker movies cannot be shown on flights. I mean really, don't we end up looking haggard enough when we arrive after a 5 hour flight without having mascara stains and puffy red eyes?

Tear-jerker movies are meant for girls' nights, pajamas, full Kleenex box at the elbow, a pint of Ben & Jerry's and a large spoon. Oh and chocolate. Lots of chocolate.

I do love a good tear-jerker though.

Today's tear-jerker was "P.S. I Love You." I had no idea what this film was about. I thought it was a romantic comedy. But no. They fool you into that with the first scene, and then they knock you down good.

If you haven’t seen this movie, you may want to stop here.
Cuz I'm gonna need a few moments to digest and share this.

The movie is about a young married couple and you think you're gonna watch them going through some hard times, and be a boy gets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl back kind of flick. But after the first scene, and then the opening credits, you are suddenly at an Irish wake.

Shit.

I know I'm in for it now.

And just when you think that watching this poor 29-year old widow disintegrate into an agoraphobic basket case who sings along with Judy Garland movies is too much, suddenly it's her 30th birthday. And a cake is specially delivered. With a cassette tape. From her dead husband.

Shit.

I'm really in for it now.

The tape announces that she will receive a series of letters that will be arriving in various surprising ways and times and each will have instructions for her to follow. These letters take her from a birthday party night out, to shopping for the perfect outfit, to singing a love song in a karaoke bar, to a travel agency, to Ireland, and back again. Every letter ends with P.S. I Love You. Every letter MAKES ME CRY. Not discrete little corner of the eye tears, mind you, but streaming, eye squinting, mascara running tears.

Shit.

I'm so in it now.
Which is obvious to the guy sitting to my left.
And the 15 people standing in the aisle waiting for the bathroom.

The final letter comes when she has accomplished all of her tasks, and you think she is finding her way. And she is. But suddenly, she realizes she is all alone. For the first time, she 's alone. She has a meltdown and goes to her mom for comfort. Then... her mother gives her the last letter.

Since I've spoiled most of the plot, I won't spoil the surprise ending (and no, of course he doesn't come back from the dead).

Suffice it to say, as always, life goes on.

Shit.

I have to go recover my dignity now.

Criticism, Compliments, and Credit

Recently, I had dinner with my very good friend Spence and as usual we talked about many many things. The one that has stuck in my mind most, is talking about sitting in judgment of others, or criticizing others, causes us both to self-criticize even more. She was speaking of her relationship with her daughter, I was speaking of my relationship with my staff. Obviously a mother-daughter relationship is very different...charged with much greater emotion and pure genetic complications. But if you go to the simplest analogy...they aren't so very different.

I find myself drawn into frustration and judgment and perhaps because I don't trust myself to be appropriately critical and actually fear I am being overly harsh, I then take the criticism upon myself.

Staffer 1 has trouble getting in on time. I'm pissed and calling her on it constantly.

Then turning it on myself - I arrive an hour later than her, I'm 5 minutes late for a meeting with her, I have a hard time getting up in the morning too. It doesn't matter that I stay at the office until 8PM everynight and she leaves at 4:30. Bad, Bad Wenderina. Staffer 1 is really not so bad, is she?

Staffer 2 charged 15 hours for something that should have only taken her about 4. I criticize her time management skills and push her to be more efficient.

Then turning it on myself - I have a laundry list of things to do and I've only crossed off 1 in the past 4 weeks. I'm not completing critical tasks on time, I'm having to work 50-60 hours a week just to keep my head above water. I'm wasting time all the time. Bad, Bad Wenderina. Staffer 2 is really not so bad either.

Staffer 3 is harsh and uncommunicative. She is overly critical of co-workers. She avoids working in teams.

Then turning it on myself - I'm too harsh on her. I do too much on my own without delegating and creating teams. I'm building up my own library of criticism of others. Bad, Bad Wenderina. Staffer 3 is really not so bad either.

This is a vicious cycle that Spence shares - when she plays hardball with her daughter, she ends up beating herself up even more.

Then there is the issues we both have with compliments. Neither of us are very good at accepting compliments and do that typical female thing. You know the one.

Compliment: Nice job on that Wenderina!
Response: Thanks, it was really a team effort, Staffer 1 (when she came in on time), Staffer 2 (although she spent too much time on it) and Staffer 3 (who didn't keep any of us in the loop on what she was doing) all contributed! They really deserve all the credit.

Compliment: You only rated yourself a 3 out of 5 on Group Management! I gave you a 4.5 - you had a tough year, with lots of tough staff issues. You excelled.
Response: Thanks, BUT I still feel x, y, z are unresolved and should be done by now. I suck at this and should be beaten and strung up by my toenails. (ok that 2nd sentence was only an echo in my head, but it was there).

And yet, Spence and I both agreed, we are absolutely craving this attention. She has history with a father who withheld affection and approvals so she strives for that in everything she does. My father and mother were quite good with their praise, and yet, I have my own baggage from somewhere that gives me that desire to people-please over everything else. My successes at work and in life make me high...and in equal measure, make me squirm uncomfortably.

So, where is the lesson in all of this?

There probably is none.

Except that therapy seems to be about awareness and using that awareness to change behavior, or at least understand it and compensate or mitigate the results.

So, for the next few days, while I'm in meetings that include many of the top execs of our company, I'm going to try and be aware. I'm going to try not to people-please so much. I'm going to try and take compliments with a simple Thank You. I'm going to try to curb my desire to criticize - others and myself.

Tall order.

A Gourmet Palette...Not

I have the palette of a 12 year old. I prefer a cold pop-tart in the car, to eggs florentine served to me in bed. I prefer a PB&J sandwich to a focaccia turkey club. I prefer campbell's chicken soup and grilled cheese (with yellow american singles) sandwich to any homemde soup on the planet.

Face it. I'll never appreciate gourmet anything.

Sigh.

This is rather sad considering that hubby has the aptitude and potential to become a gourmet, if only someone would show an interest.

Don't get me wrong, when he is inspired and comes up with a multi-course meal for us or for company, I always enjoy it. But I'm not driven by it and am just fine grabbing something fast and ready to serve (frozen french bread pizza anyone?).

Because of this, when hubby asks me plaintively, "What do you want for dinner, babe?" I know he hopes for an answer of roast chicken and fresh veggies, served on a bed of wild rice, with a spinach salad and warm ginger dressing, a nice crisp chardonnay, and a poached pear for dessert. Now that does sound yummy. But so does a subway roast beef hero. And much faster to attain and can be eaten on the couch, or on the go.

I wonder if we had children ourselves if I would have been forced to develop a grownup palette just to be able to say, "I can't believe what you kids will eat!".

I have improved a little, I guess. I no longer eat McDonalds. It still smells yummy to me, but my stomach just can't handle it anymore. And I no longer eat spaghettios - a staple of my youth and young adult years - with meatballs OR franks. At some point I just learned to make pasta and sauce (from a jar) and went with that.

One small step for wenderina, one large step for 12 year olds everywhere.

I've Missed My Mom...

My Mom has been doing the "snow bird" thing in Florida for the past 3 months. And even though we normally live 6 hours apart, having her several states away feels different. Plus, when she's home, we email a couple times a day, and when she's in FL - we talk about once a week.

So, I've been looking at my blog, and my sister's blog, and my niece's blog and thinking how much my Mom would really enjoy reading them. Up until now we've had a secrecy pact amongst us three. I don't know why, maybe we thought we'd complain about something or someone and it would have to be kept secret. But it turns out we don't really bitch and complain that much - and we're ending up excluding Mom from something we want her to experience.

So, I'm hereby opening up the door to my blog to Mom. So readers get ready. Mama Lou is coming to a theatre near you. And she doesn't abide any nonsense from me, or from any of you!

Apparently, I'm Asymmetrical

...but it's all good.

After my very first mammogram - I got the dreaded letter in the mail, "We've detected an irregularity and recommend that you make an appointment for futher imaging."

Followed by a call from my Dr. (who has NEVER called me) to tell me that I have an asymmetrical breast.

????

Aren't they supposed to be asymmetrical?

Apparently, this is actually a medical term. I immediately jumped on Google and found this, and this, and this. And ok, the words "Breast Cancer" came up an awful lot and I started to get a little freaked out. However, my doctor and the technician assured me that 90% of the time, these tests find that there is nothing of concern. So I, in turn, reassured hubby.

And truly, after about 24 hours, I just decided to deal with it. I was even able to schedule it on the same day as a dentist appointment and then justify taking an entire day off work so I could visit all my medical/dental people and still get in some shopping and a haircut.

This is how I operate - I have HUGE anxieties over MINOR things (like poster frames for my office) and I totally go with the flow on the big things. Like when hubby quit his job and was out of work for six months. I would NEVER have thought I would be so cool for six months waiting for a paycheck to come in. But I was. Really. Just ask him. I WAS! Almost immediately after he got his new better paying job? I started to stress about bills.

What can I tell you. I need help.

So anyway, after a 2nd (more stringent...and by this I mean SQUUUEEEZZZEEEE) mammogram (which still didn't really cause that much pain, let me say) and then a focal ultrasound, I've learned I'm one of the 90%. What they were seeing was a lymph node. A perfectly healthy and normal lymph node.

The latest letter to come in the mail had a boring little message, "We are pleased to inform you that all results are normal."

Please pause to thank whatever God you believe in on my behalf.

And let me just say again, if you are 40+ and are not getting a regular mammogram, please go. How much would I have been kicking myself if it turned out to be something after I postponed my first mammogram for a year?

Personality Profiles

A couple of weeks ago I invited people to join me in completing a personality profile questionnaire. And, so ok, I didn't send out reminders. So no one (except the consummate deadline professional Kiki, did theirs! These were the people who were SUPPOSED to play, and you know, they are all pretty cool, so you can visit them anyway.

KiKi at Good Intentions
A's Mom at Searching for An Even Balance (Updated! entry posted 4/2/08)
Khair Insha'allah! (no entry yet!)
Stephanie (Updated! entry posted 4/2/08!)
Ian Lidster responded in my comments here.
lyndaspix (Updated! entry posted 4/1/08)
asecrettobluebamboo (no entry yet!)


And here are my riveting responses:

What historical figure do you most identify with and why?

I struggled over this question, and almost didn't do the quiz because this one was the hardest. I have to say, I don't really identify with any historical figure I can think of, because I either admire in them qualities I don't think I possess, or revile them for the horrors they inflicted on history. I probably identify with Jane Doe, average citizen, from the 1940's the most.

Which word or phrase do you think is overused right now?

There are NO original words or phrases anymore, so I'm pretty sick of all of them. However, I am getting tired of "That's How We Roll" - although sometimes in a blog it is the appropriate phrase to get a little sarcastic laughter going.

How would you explain your profession to a child?

This is NOT a job you want.
No really, this is NOT a job you want.
LISTEN TO ME...This is NOT a job you want.

(That's pretty much what my job is - say it once, say it again, say it one more time...maybe this time they'll listen.)

What did you have to learn the hard way?

Patience. And I'm still learning it EVERY DAMN DAY.

What do you sing or hum when you're alone?

"Paradise by the Dashboard Lights" by Meatloaf. One of the only songs I actually know the RIGHT words to and love to sing at the top of my lungs, cuz it's still fun, even when off key.

What talent would you most like to have?

Anything artistic. I'd love to be able to draw and paint. Or sing. Or act.

What movie character would you like to portray and why?

I would like to play Atticus Finch, because really, is there any better representation of a human being ever?

Is there a book that changed your perspective on life?

Every book gives me insights into life and behavior. I think one of the first books I really remember making an impression on me was, "Where the Red Fern Grows". Because it was the first book I ever remember making me cry. And even though I've read it about 100 times, it still makes me cry.

What's the best reward for a job well done?

A simple thank you. Oh and money, lots of money.

What is your personal motto?
"Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming."
(must be said in Ellen Degeneres sing-song voice)

---

Thanks for playing!

Rabid Advocate

My firm has an award program called, "Avid Advocates". A friend of mine jokingly terms it "Rabid Advocates".

All kidding aside, it's kind of a neat program. Anyone can be nominated by anyone else, but it's focused on recognizing mentors and supervisors. Have I mentioned how much I hate being a supervisor? Have I mentioned how long my days are and how my desk looks like a bomb went off because I do not have enough time for these high maintenance people AND my regular tasks?
So I never imagined any of my group of tough love cases would consider nominating me.

Guess what?

They did...and I won! {Flowers and card compliments of my boss - she's the bomb}

Email from our CEO:

"It is extremely gratifying to see that following our re-launch of the Avid Advocate program last year, more than 50 supervisors and managers were nominated in 2008 for their outstanding support of staff through coaching, mentoring and professional development.

On behalf of the selection committee, I am pleased to announce that 10 people have been selected as Avid Advocates. (including me!)

Please join me in congratulating these individuals for earning this recognition. Coaching and mentoring are essential to the professional development of all {Company} employees, and I hope this recognition will encourage more leaders to make an extra effort to guide and teach others everyday."

Aw shucks folks.

Guess I'll have to be nicer to them all tomorrow.

But Monday - I'm back with a vengeance.

My Days are Full of.......

8:30 AM Rain and traffic.
Took 3 calls on way to work (shhhhh - don't tell the cops) and was already frazzled by the time I arrived.

9:30 AM Edited "I Love Lucy" episode for the Chairman of the Board to use at Shareholder Meeting. At least I got a few chuckles out of this one.

10:00 AM Exchanged logistics emails with our "Art Director/Video" consultant who is supposed to be completing a video for us next week and has just flown to Boca Raton because his father is ill. Help!

10:30 AM Exchange with HR on miscommunications regarding employee status. And felt they were totally trying to snow me on whose fault it was.

11:00 AM Group Meeting. Realized I had 12 more deadlines than I was truly aware of. Sigh.

12:00 PM Walked to cafeteria - in pouring rain - through puddles - and back again. It was the HIGHLIGHT OF MY DAY.

12:30 PM Review of Annual Report draft - needs total re-write - Today. Sigh.

2:00 PM Meeting with another HR person on employee relations issues. Luckily we laughed our way through it, but ultimately the discussion is still painful.

3:00 PM Odds and ends and life's little emergencies.

5:30 PM Setup to videotape Chairman for Year in Review summary.

6:00 PM Chairman arrives (aka the talent) and setup is in technology turmoil. After making small talk for 25 minutes trying to cover for the delays, finally sent Chairman away and promised to call him when ready.

6:50 PM Technology SNAFU solved, brought Chairman back for walk and talk on video.

7:15 PM Completed about 6 takes - hope we got what we need.

7:30 PM Breakdown of equipment completed.

8:00 PM Back at desk re-writing Annual Report.

"Like the sands through the hourglass, these are the Days of MY Life"

Just Call Me "Crash"

I'm an excellent driver.

Really.

I am.

O.K., so maybe I could learn to pay a little bit better attention?

Let's check out my driving record.

Accident #1 - My fault - but attributed to inexperience.

1984, 17 years old, 4.5 hours after passing my NY State Driving Test and receiving my license. Imagine me and 3 girlfriends tooling around town with my new license with Prince's When Doves Cry blasted at TOP VOLUME. In the midst of talking, giggling, and singing along with Prince, I tried to change lanes without realizing a car was coming up behind me and we collided with a lovely crunch. Next scene: me sobbing in the back seat of the police car and handing the officer four sheets of paper stapled together with a DMV stamp on top to certify my license. Officer response, "What the hell is this?" My reply, "It's [sob] my [sob] license! [sob sob] Please [sob] don't [sob sob] take it away from me [wail sob sob]!!

Accident #2 - NOT my fault, attributed to the other driver's inexperience.

1993?, in car with hubby, and another couple in back seat, stopped at a light frozen as I watched headlights in a VERY BIG SUV barrelling down on our position knowing they were not going to stop. My hair was in a ponytail and the scrunchy came off my hair and ended up on the shelf behind the backseat. Can you say whiplash? When the 16 year old driver of the SUV approached us to see if we were ok - my snotty response (having totally forgotten my own teenage devastation with my first accident), "Of course we're not ok, you just plowed into us asshole!"

Accident #3 - So Totally NOT my fault.
Who in their right mind would pit a Honda Civic up against an 18 wheeler?

2000?, on my way to work when an 18-wheeler decided he wanted to be in my lane. Specifically, he wanted to occupy the exact position in my lane that I was already in. He clipped me. I spun around about 3.5 times across 4 lanes of NY State Thruway (miraculously not hitting any other vehicle) and ended up facing the wrong direction on the inside shoulder. Not a scratch on me. But my nerve was shot for quite a while.

Accident #4 - COMPLETELY my fault. And that poor Honda survived Accident #3 only to be injured again by me!

Today. After dutifully getting up early to get to a meeting I found I had enough time to help with taking the recyling to the curb before I left. Hubby was still showering - he's usually out of the house before me - so I hollered my plan up to him. I went out through the garage and loaded the 4 bins into the back of the SUV making 4 trips around my car to do it. Then, I climbed into the SUV and promptly backed up right into the Honda Civic. I had walked past the car at least 4 times to load up the recycling and it didn't even register that hubby had parked in an unusual place directly behind my SUV. Duh. I creased that passenger door nicely. Feeling a little like I did in the backseat of the cop car in Accident #1, I went back inside to report my total idiocy.

My hubby's response?

"My fault for parking there."

Can you believe this man's goodness? I would have torn him up one side and down the other if he did it. Not to mention the fact that the man has been in only one minor fender-bender his entire life and he endures my constant backseat driving and complaints about his driving.

I think it is time for me to shut up and let him drive. Cuz obviously he? is REALLY the excellent driver in the family.

Green Bagels and Other Such Irish Things

Today my company provided green bagels to our staff. Since this office houses more than 400 people, there were a LOT of green bagels floating around the office.

This made me think about St. Patrick's day and how on this day, somehow we are all a little bit Irish, and proud of it.

So here's a little history lesson about our Irish ancestors:

IRISH IN AMERICA

1. Though life in Ireland was cruel, emigrating to America was not a joyful event...it was referred to as the American Wake for these people knew they would never see Ireland again.


2. Homes and jobs were scarce for the Irish immigrants. Ads for employment often were followed by "NO IRISH NEED APPLY."


3. Solidarity was their strength, they helped each other survive city life. They prayed and drank together.


4. A common expression heard among the railroad workers was "an Irishman was buried under every tie."


5. The Irish were unique among immigrants. They fiercely loved America but never gave up their allegiance to Ireland...and they kept their hatred of the English.


6. Twice Irish immigrants tried to invade Canada, believing that they could trade Canadian land for Ireland's freedom from England.


7. During the Civil War they were fierce warriors, forming among other groups, the famous Irish Brigade.


8. World War I brought the Irish respect by American society; their fierce conduct in many military operations allowed them to break from Ireland's nationalism and depend on themselves and their new home for success.


9. World War II furthered this success by providing the Irish soldiers with an opportunity to seek education at the expense of the country they defended.


10. Today, St.Patrick day parades replaced violent confrontations. The Irish not only won acceptance for their day, but persuaded everyone else to become Irish at least for St.Patrick's Day.

So enjoy your green bagels, corned beef and cabbage (which according to my Irish friends is decidedly NOT Irish), Irish soda bread, and of course, green beer, and think about how the Irish joined our melting pot and became "more American than the Americans."

Friday Feelings

I feel:


Jaded and Disheartened

Today's post is brought to you by the letter H.

It's been quite a week in New York. Just when I thought I would scream if I had to watch one more game of tug of war between Hillary and Barack and the Democrat self-destruct machine...a Democrat I didn't expect to see in the news had a new lesson in the word HUBRIS.

"Hubris or hybris (Greek ὕβρις), according to its modern usage, is exaggerated self pride, arrogance or self-confidence (overbearing pride), often resulting in fatal retribution. In Ancient Greece, "hubris" referred to actions taken in order to shame and humiliate the victim, thereby making oneself seem superior."

Although I must admit the comedians and journalists struck gold with this story. The Top 10 lists on Letterman have never been better. The Daily Show and Colbert Report made me spit out my drink - almost through my nose.

And this week's favorite newspaper Headlines?

I thought you were different Mr. Spitzer. I thought you were not of the political machine. I thought you couldn't be bought or corrupted. Apparently you were doing your own buying and corrupting.

You Hedonistic S.O.B.

You Hypocrit of the Century.

Just remember that Hell Hath No Fury Like a Woman Scorned.

Mrs. Spitzer - Have at it.

Face 6, Body 3 1/2, Personality? 10!

I "borrowed" this questionnaire from a trade magazine I read - Communications World as a member of IABC (International Association of Business Communicators). They offer you the option of downloading the full questionnaire from www.iabc.com/cw/personality and then submit it. You may be selected to be featured in the magazine.

But hell, who needs CW and their editorial review board?

I can self-publish here! And I want you to join me!

{cue the Mission Impossible Music}

This assignment, should you choose to accept it, has a deadline of March 31st. Let me know if you are up for it by commenting here and I'll put my response and a link to everyone else up on my page on the 31st.

So jump in with both feet and start drafting your clever replies. Activate your post on 3/31 and we'll all learn a little more about one another's personalities. The crazier the better!

***********************

What historical figure do you most identify with and why?

Which word or phrase do you think is overused right now?

How would you explain your profession to a child?

What did you have to learn the hard way?

What do you sing or hum when you're alone?

What talent would you most like to have?

What movie character would you like to portray and why?

Is there a book that changed your perspective on life?

What's the best reward for a job well done?

What is your personal motto?

***********************


These questions require some thought people!

Look forward to seeing your answers.

Popping the eBay Cherry

O.k. I finally joined the rest of the human race checking out eBay for some auction deals. I blame their ad campaign on TV - you know the one..."Shop Victoriously: It's better when you win it!".

So...I bid on some pretty things.

Like this (which my 1930's house will love to feature in a dark corner).

Then, this....just cuz...if I didn't get the first thing, I'd have a consolation prize.

But the whole reason I went shopping there in the first place was to bid on something like this:

(They promise it isn't stained and is pure white in real-life)

...vintage (or vintage look-a-like) ...love it...

And...in the end.....

I "won" all three. Somehow while filling out the paypal info today I didn't have quite the sense of triumph and self-satisfaction they show in the commercials.

Maybe the feeling arrives with the box in the mail.

Friday Feelings

I feel:
Quiet

The office is so quiet today you can hear every little paper being jostled on every desk. The air outside is rapidly chilling as we await the storm coming from the midwest. I'm quietly working my way through my list of things to do...I'm feeling like for a week where I was out sick for two days and still hacking away with a cough that I've done enough and accomplished plenty. No pressure today.

I'm cuddled in my "emergency" sweater - an ugly but heavy duty wool ski cardigan I keep at my desk for cold days. The sky outside is grey and the plants on my desk give me the only touch of nature's color.

I'll miss the morning sun that has just begun to bring me that feeling of Spring coming soon. But we must turn forward the clocks tomorrow and that's okay because the light at the end of the day is just as welcome.

So quiet contemplation is the feeling of the afternoon. Slow down and enjoy it.

Called Back to Action

I was tagged by Stephanie. And it was a great tag that actually helps with my "March slow-down" as it just requires that I pull out some of the old "Anxious Moments" for others to read.

Here are the rules:

Go back through your archives and post the links to your five favorite blog posts that you’ve written.

Link one must be about family:
Missing My Pop.

Link two must be about friends:
Orange You Glad We're Friends?

Link three must be about yourself:
Turns Out the Devil Doesn't Wear Prada.

Link four must be about something you love:
A Few of My Favorite Things

Link five can be about anything you choose:
Fashion Faux Pas.

Post your five links and then tag five (or more) other people. At least two of the people you tag must be newer acquaintances so that you get to know each other better.

I tag:

Wanda at Deadpan
Amybow at View from the Passenger Seat
Jude at Hey Jude
Kiki at Good Intentions
Marriage 101 (so new I don't even know your screen name yet!)
The Bears at Uncaring Bear

If others of you decide to do this - it was a fun walk down memory lane - and pretty low energy, add a comment so I can check yours out...you know...in April.

March Slow-Down

This past weekend I finally conquered my jet lag and it was so good to feel rested and refreshed, that I figure I need to pursue that a little more.

So, in an effort to get a little more sleep, a little less computer time, and (I confess) a little more work and schoolwork done, I'll be slowing down the pace of my blogging. So unless I am very inspired (which happens), I'm proclaming this MaNoNeBloMo [March No Need to Blog Month]. (You know you wish you were me and you were doing this too right?)

Stay tuned...in the immortal and annoying words of the governator - "I'll be back".

The First Mammogram

To all of my male readers...you will likely find this post of little interest, so feel free to sign off, or read on.


Today I took the leap and finally had my first mammogram. I had planned to do it last year when I turned 40, but my intent was not followed up with rapid action. First, I didn't realize I would need a prescription from my doctor, then when I finally tracked that down and made the call - trying to squeak it in before I turned 41, I was confounded by the need to wait 3 months for an appointment....who knew?



After all of the horror stories I'd just like to start by saying - women need to stop bitching about this and scaring our younger sisters! I've had worse discomfort from sitting in one position on a plane for 14 hours!

The whole thing began with a female technican positioning me in front of the x-ray machine and matter of factly sticking little pasties with steel tips on my nipples. She was talking about whether rain was expected and I think I blinked once or twice before answering her due to the incongruity of having someone handling my breasts and talking about the weather. Then she hefted a breast up onto the plate, set the motor to "SQUEEEEEZZZE" and kept chattering, with brief interruptions like:


"ok?"
"still ok?"
"just about there"
"There! Hang on I'll be quick!"


After the two base shots I thought we were done, but she still needed to do the diagonal shots. This was a little more awkward and can catch your rib or your shoulder/collar bone a little, but still NOT PAINFUL. Just uncomfortable.

When done, she gave me a fact sheet and went off to make sure the film was good for analysis. Two minutes later I was getting dressed and on my way to work. The entire appointment, including insurance paperwork, took all of 25 minutes from entry to exit. Piece of cake.

When driving to work, I suddenly realized I had never removed the pasties. I reached inside my shirt and bra and tugged one off and I would have to say THAT was the most painful moment of the morning. And hopefully did not give the truck driver in the next lane a moment of pause.

So ladies, if you are of the 40+ range and have not been getting your regular mammograms, I dare you to go and I promise...the bark is much worse than the bite.