One of Those Days

Did ya ever have one of those days?

First the scale thing....

Then...FIVE people told me I looked tired today...FIVE...and I'm not. Makes you really feel like you are looking FINE doesn't it?

Then...one person continually asked me if I was ok...continually...??? "Are you sure? You look like you are off today?"

Then an email question to two people turned into an email explosion between 20 people. You know the one that just makes you want to chew off your hands at the wrist rather than reply one more time?

Then...someone ACTUALLY wanted to order plastic neon lit drink coolers (you know those awful fake ice cubes?) as a conference giveaway. There are so many things wrong with this when you work for AN ENVIRONMENTAL FIRM IN A FAILING ECONOMY that I cannot begin to speak them.

At this point I begin to rant - I hate people. I really really just hate people.

Then...I actually found myself saying, "BITCH" when listening to the "every woman" recorded system voice on our voice mail system just for asking me for my password twice.

Some freakin' day.

A Confession of Extimacy

Have you heard the new word? I was listening to my man - Joe Connelly - from his CBS880 financial commentary today (the only sane voice in a world gone wild) and he laid out the new word of the week...Extimacy. It is the word for living your life out on the internet, sharing your most intimate secrets externally...hence it isn't intimacy, it's Extimacy.

Welcome to my extimate life.

Today, I went to the gym at 7AM....

and let's just pause a moment to applaud me for being
in my 2nd week of gym membership and activity

...and I stepped on the scale. You know, the kind like the Doctor has with the counterweight that REALLY tells you what you weigh. All I can say is Ack! I've known for a while that my cheap little scale at home is off a couple of pounds but....well....ack! I've been severely mislead. I've been betrayed by a household object.

To be honest, I've allowed myself to be deluded into believing that I can eat ice cream, cookies, pasta, bread, and multiple bowls of cereal and the scale doesn't move. Such amazing consistency! What a powerful metabolism! And with working out at the gym, that metabolism can only be increasing, so although the machine has told me that my 30 minute workout has only actually burned 134 calories, that's ok, because my metabolism is cranking along and I can go home and eat that egg and cheese bagel with no consequences.

I'm not sure I can face a regular exercise regimen AND a severe diet at the same time. I could potentially kill someone out of misplaced food rage or crazed Aleve overdosing from muscular pain treatment. But damn it. That number should never be a part of any woman's life who is not a pro-wrestler or heavyweight boxer.

Bad mood here I come.

WWJD

I'm a big fan of President Obama. And I love to watch/hear the man speak. It is such a pleasure to have a president who is not constantly searching for words between "ums". I applaud his use of streaming video - like today's subtitled message to the people of Iran - but late night comedy shows?

As I watched the Tonight Show last night all I could think of was how goofy Jay Leno is and how, even in his most comedic moments, Johnny was smooth...truly the epitomy of the urbane late night talk host. What would Johnny do with a guest like this? Would he toss softballs and sit in awe of POTUS? Would he make sarcastic comments about DC politics and Wall Street greed? Would he talk tennis and golf? Would he edit out the Special Olympics faux pas?

While I do appreciate that the world is changing, and communications of our leaders must redefine to meet the challenges of 800 stations of television and thousands of spam messages per minute, I can't quite fit the role of the president with a late night talk show focused on entertainment and laughs. A one on one interview with a news anchor or features producer...yes. Johnny Carson's sad little stand in? Not so much.

Given the choice of having POTUS appear on the Tonight Show...WWJD? [What Would Johnny Do?] I think he'd prefer Jack Hanna and his animals, but that's just me.

Modern English

As promised, the slightly more recognizable Modern English translation of Chaucer.

As ancient stories tell us, once there reigned
A duke named Theseus, who’d in Athens gained
The office of a governing magistrate,
Who, as a conquering general, did rate
As more renowned than any neath the sun.
Rich countries by the dozens had he won;
And in particular the region of
The Amazons, he’d won with wit and love;
An area as Scythia once known.
Hippolyta, the queen upon its throne
He wedded, and with pomp and glory led
This lovely monarch home to share his bed,
And Emily, her younger sister, too.
And so, in festive victory, adieu
I say unto this noble duke, who rides
To Athens with his armed host on both sides.
And if it were not much to long a tale,
I would relate to you in more detail
Just how the reign of Femininity
Was won by Theseus with his chivalry;
And of the raging battle that went on
With these Athenians in Amazon.

The Words We Use

I've been noticing how a person's vocabulary may be expanded by reading, but it does not always impact our speech. Yesterday, for example, hubby was talking to his staff and used the word absconded.

Hubby: "You would have thought I said something in a foreign language for the reaction it got!"

I guess most people would say stolen, or made off with it, or some similar and more common phrase.

Me: "Tomorrow your assignment is to use the word akimbo in a sentence. Say, 'My wife stood there in the living room with her arms akimbo...' and see what they say."

Hubby: "They'll probably make something x-rated out of that one."

Me: "They'd better not, that's your wife they're talking about!"

Hubby: "Not you dear, akimbo.."

How often do you read words that would never pass your lips in a real conversation? Yet you know the words, they are comfortable to you, they just feel too foreign to speak. A friend of mine was reading with me on a beach a few years ago and she was puzzled by a phrase. "Her august presence..." She said, "What does the month of August have to do with someone's presence?" I explained the OTHER meaning of the word august and the pronunciation I knew it as with the emphasis on GUST vs AUG. This was a whole new concept to her and she is very well read.

As the years pass and fewer and fewer people read real literature with beautifully crafted language and uncommon phrases I wonder if the books that we avid readers treasure might just become impossible to decipher. In college I studied Chaucer in middle english. It was both enticing and exhausting, and in the first read, nearly impossible to understand. Soon words like akimbo, abscond, august, and other wonderful and lyrical words will be a part of our foggy past.

Here's a treat for you...A Knight's Tale from Chaucer's Canterbury Tales in the Middle English. See if you can understand this "foreign" language:

859: Whilom, as olde stories tellen us,
860: Ther was a duc that highte theseus;
861: Of atthenes he was lord and governour,
862: And in his tyme swich a conquerour,
863: That gretter was ther noon under the sonne.
864: Ful many a riche contree hadde he wonne;
865: What with his wysdom and his chivalrie,
866: He conquered al the regne of femenye,
867: That whilom was ycleped scithia,
868: And weddede the queene ypolita,
869: And broghte hire hoom with hym in his contree
870: With muchel glorie and greet solempnytee,
871: And eek hir yonge suster emelye.
872: And thus with victorie and with melodye
873: Lete I this noble duc to atthenes ryde,
874: And al his hoost in armes hym bisyde.
875: And certes, if it nere to long to heere,
876: I wolde have toold yow fully the manere
877: How wonnen was the regne of femenye
878: By theseus and by his chivalrye;
879: And of the grete bataille for the nones
880: Bitwixen atthenes and amazones;


Modern English will be posted tomorrow.

Did You See That?

This is what happens....

*Actual photo taken by Wenderina in Brisbane, Australia - Feb 2008.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Decades to Go

As a post script to the last entry - this morning at the gym I was embarrassed to note that the octogenarian on the bike to my right not only maintained a 114 beat/minute heart rate for twice the duration of my ride, he also pedaled at a steady 90 rpms on the cardio burn workout. I, in contrast, found my heart racing up to 145 beat/minute and couldn't get the rpms much over 70.

I blame the seat position on the bike.

Yeah, that's it.

Oh, My Aching Glutes

Until this weekend, I had not set foot in anything that resembles a gym since college, with the single exception of a continuing education beginner's yoga class that was held in the middle school gym (imagine the soothing environment of smelly teenage sweatsocks and screaming middle schoolers in the halls). So far, I'm digging it, but let's see how it goes once the novelty wears off, or the first morning I have to choose between that extra hour of sleep, or when the ache in my joints and muscles becomes more important than the adrenalin rush.

Two days later and two workouts later and I'm feeling good, some achiness and stiffness in the joints, but overall o.k. I'm pacing myself...sticking with ramping up on standard cardio machines - treadmill, bike - for the first month. I haven't jumped on the ellyptical yet...I think that will be my nemesis in the cardio world. I wish they had a pool, and the classes are all given during working hours during the week, but what do you want for $120 for two people for 3 months.

Right now my focus is strength and toning, building up my wind and controlling my heart rate. If I get beyond this, I will probably meet with the trainer at the gym for a baseline and goalsetting for some of the additional weight training machines. And maybe I'll even start to watch my diet...but all in good time. Last night, after working out for a little over an hour, I came home and plopped back on the couch...watched some tv....ate a couple of tacos for dinner and capped it off with some ice cream.

BUT, the machines at the gym told me I had worked off 350 calories, which I figure is approximately two spoonfuls of that ice cream, so I'm good, right? Geez. I don't think I'll ever look at a 100 calorie snack the same way again if it takes that much effort to work it off!

Hubby and I decided that to make the membership worthwhile (money-wise) we have to go to the gym at least 25 times in 3 months, but I'm aiming for 40. No promises.

One small step....

Today I joined a gym. Holy crap.
One giant leap for Wenderina.

The Forgotten Pleasure

Today I walked in the cold sunshine to the cafeteria. I hand picked each lettuce leaf, each cherry tomato, each cucumber. I gazed at the basket of hard boiled eggs until I found just the right one. Then I moved to the grilled chicken and picked 5 juicy slivers. Adding the crunchy croutons and slathering the whole selection with spicy italian dressing was the finishing point. I grabbed my favorite diet raspberry snapple from the cooler and slowly walked back through the sun and the cold to my office.

At my desk I ignored the blinking message light on the phone, the blinking instant message notification on my screen, and noted with disinterest the 22 emails that had arrived in the 15 minutes I had been away. I reached into the bottom of my bag and found the novel I've been reading at the pace of about 2 chapters a week and opened it.

It's Friday and both of my cubicle neighbors are out today, many of the staff have gone out to lunch and the only sound is the hum of ventilation and computer...the sound of energy sizzling in the air. The sound you rarely notice until it's not there.

As I make my way through a few more pages in the book I suddenly realize how quiet it is and how peaceful this one little moment feels. It is fleeting, the phone soon rings, people return from lunch, the pressure of a task that must be done intrudes. But for that a brief blink of time I re-discovered a forgotten pleasure.

One quiet stolen moment, and the awareness to appreciate it as a gift.

Is There a Camelot?

Last night I had dinner with a colleague who has become a good friend. We were comparing notes on the myriad challenges we face at work - including struggles we've had between us and our immediate team. Over dinner (and drinks) we shared a lot of frustrations, laughs, stories, and other nonsense, and it reinforced to me again, that if I just meet people on a human level, we can work just about anything out.

But then there is the Middle East...
(I know your head is spinning with that segue, but that's how I roll...)

I saw a documentary last year where a jewish mother and a palestinian mother were being interviewed. The palestinian woman had a daughter who had been a suicide bomber and the bomb had killed the daughter of the jewish woman. They were interviewed separately and in those interviews they were struggling to find the compassion and commonality to understand one another's pain. The palestinian woman, in particular, was touching as she talked about having no idea her daughter would consider such an act and how it tore her apart to think of the pain and devastation it had caused.

Eventually, a meeting was arranged between the two. And this is where my human connection story fails. There was no way for these women to see eye to eye. The hatred is fully entrenched. The sense of being wronged, of being persecuted, of being victimized is so embedded in their being there was no hope of a woman to woman moment of truth.

As I watch the new administration looking at new ways to address these multi-generational conflicts, I wonder if a possibility exists that reason can overwrite history. Can past wrongs be acknowledged and forgiven? Can borders be re-drawn and accepted? Can a new camelot arise with Might FOR Right, instead of Might IS Right? Will my generation or the next ever realize a basic human connection?

--------------- WEST WING INTERLUDE ------------

BARTLET: The Mideast reminds me of that joke about the optimist and the pessimist. The pessimist says “Everything is terrible. It can’t get any worse.” The optimist says “Oh, yes it can.”

HARPER: It can get easy to forget that there’s a silent majority on both sides who just want to live their lives.

BARTLET: Unfortunately, you spend all your time focusing on what’s drowning them out: the invective and bomb blasts.

HARPER: Isn’t it our ultimate moral responsibility to them?

BARTLET: It’s quicksand. An ego trip.

HARPER: Sir?

BARTLET: Chasing that Nobel Peace Prize right down the same sinkhole.

HARPER: After 50 years of strife and futility, there’s no dishonor in failure. The only dishonor might be not to try.

--------------- WEST WING INTERLUDE ------------

Amen Sister. Rather than allowing every media outlet and pundit in the world to tell us why not to try, why don't we wait and see if President Obama, Secretary Hillary, and Mr. Mitchell can all work together to pull that sword out of the stone.

Daylight Savings Killed My Clock

I always struggle with the first few days after we move the clock one way or the other...but not as much as my clock. I arrived at work to find the 12-inch DEADLINE clock on my wall quivering between 12 and 12:15. It was 9AM. I figure Daylight Savings Time killed it. It just couldn't face the fact that all of my deadlines were now 1 hour closer to being due.

I totally get it.

Movie Recommendations

This weekend I was able to view three movies - from Oscar winning to unknown - and yet if you asked me to rank best to worst, it wouldn't stack up with the popular opinion.



Best: Taking Chance. A 2009 HBO film starring Kevin Bacon as a guilt-ridden U.S. based Marine (Colonel) who is busy crunching numbers while his fellow marines are dying in Iraq and Afghanistan. Every night he reads the newly posted list of fallen Marines. On this night, he reads a name of a young Private First Class (PFC) Marine named Chance Phelps from his hometown and he determines to volunteer for escort duty. The movie chronicles his journey from Dover DE to the burial site in Wyoming and his interactions with people along the way. This movie was deeply touching and I was absolutely compelled to watch every frame. Some internet research yielded what I had known all along - it was based on the real life activities of the marine. His journal became a highly circulated email story and eventually found its way to HBO. The truth in this movie shone through from beginning to end.



Second: The Magdalene Sisters. This was a library find and an interesting and disturbing story. Based upon fact, but written as a fictional story, this 2002 movie depicts the asylums that were managed by the Sisters of Mercy. The worst part about these asylums is there seemed to be no rhyme or reason of why girls were committed there, except a perception of sin. The movie followed three new inmates and one existing inmate through their multiple years, essentially held as captives with no hope of discharge. One girl was raped at a family wedding - so her family committed her. One girl was seen flirting with boys at the gate of the orphanage school she attended - so the orphanage committed her. One girl had a baby out of wedlock, so her family committed her. When I described the movie to my husband he asked, "what century was this?" According to the footnote at the close of the movie, the last Magdalene "Laundry" was closed in 1996. Astonishing.


Third: Slumdog Millionaire. If you haven't heard of this 2008 movie you are totally out of touch. I was expecting a life altering experience based on the press surrounding this and its recent sweep of the awards, but maybe that was the biggest problem. My expectations were so high, there was probably no way for this movie to live up to them. The child actors were phenomenal and the circumstances of poverty in India and the struggles they are going through as they evolve into a new center of commerce were well represented. But I found myself checking my watch continually for the last 45 minutes. I also thought the brother filling the bathtub with cash at the end (won't say more to ensure no spoilers) was odd and maybe a little over the top symbolism. Overall, not the WOW I expected.

I'd recommend all three of these films. But manage your expectations. Don't expect life-altering experiences or you're bound to be disappointed.

To Say or Not to Say

Earlier this week I went on a rampage. A full out four-letter word rant about a member of my staff posted on this site.

It was warranted. It was cathartic. It was a gleeful experience.

It was probably also unwise. I deleted it.

While there are only a trusted few that I work with who read this little blog o'mine...you never know how things can get around. A random keyword search, as we all know, can take you to places you never dreamed. Given that my photo is everywhere on this site, it would be very quickly identified as my words should anyone stumble in.

Minnesota Matron is now censoring her blog because a family member just got a computer and indicated she was interested in getting into the internet blogging thing and searching on certain words that the Matron knows will beat a path to her door. Old posts about this relative are now disappearing as she seeks any entries she has created that might be hurtful or offensive - although they were never meant to be that.

Today, I had a meeting with the same person that I was ranting about two days ago. I was honest with her, in a much more diplomatic way, about my puzzlement (ahem...I said I was diplomatic) at her behavior, my expectations, my disappointment. I'm not sure it all sunk in...but it was at least a constructive conversation.

The other day the evening news cited a recent study that people who can show anger at work are healthier and more effective. Hubby has recently been told he needs to stop "mothering" his staff. I've been told alternatively that I expect too much from staff and just the opposite, that I'm too easy on my staff. This CNN Article says WOMEN who show anger at work are seen as being out of control. What can you do?

It comes down to the age old question of whether to say it or not. Is it going to solve anything to indicate disappointment? Is it going to change behavior? Is it, instead, going to de-rail something that isn't really THAT bad, but just not quite as good as you'd like it to be. Is it appropriate to put it in print...even somewhat anonymously? Is it better to stuff it all down into that hole in your stomach or blurt it out of that hole in your face?

Hopefully, you all have those trusted confidants who will patiently listen to your rants and will nod in total agreement and support with your frustration. They will offer you the confirmation you need that you are NOT crazy...and that everyone else is. They will not rat you out. They will not repeat your comments inappropriately. They will be there as your release valve.

They. Save. My. Life.

That way, even if you can't say it to the person directly - or at least from your emotional core - and you definitely can't put it in writing - at least with all the four letter expletives you are feeling - you can at least get it OUT.

The First Casualty

I swear I'm not turning into one of those people. Really, I'm not. I'm not an obsessive cat person so I can't believe I'm writing a post about my cats again...I'm deeply embarrassed. But this morning, as I lay in bed contemplating the newly fallen snow, my two cats were - as is their morning routine - chasing one another around the house. The first few times they did this, I was concerned for their wellbeing - especially when I hear sounds that remind me of a horrendous fall down the stairs - but they seem to be able to roll with it. Every once in a while I find a small but distinct blood spot which indicates the play escalated to a new level, but all in all, they seem to understand boundaries and how to survive rough play.


Today I descended from the bedroom though and found this:

My favorite lamp....


...sheared off at the joint...



...and the culprit returning to the scene of the crime.

Who knew the first real casualty would be an inanimate object?

Kitties: 1

House: 0

Mixed Messages

Why is it that reviews are never straightforward? I certainly understand that they need to be a mixture of strengths and weaknesses, praise and guidance, but when things are completely contrary it's hard to know where to go from there.

????????

• Use discretion. Do not express displeasure and disappointment about leadership.
• Express your opinion. Don't remain in the background.
• Expresses opinion well and is valued.

????????

• Take on a greater leadership style. Be less deferential in dealing with staff and managers.
• She is rough around the edges and harsh on staff - "my staff are terrified of her."
• Give people direction and hold them accountable, be more hands off.

????????

• Shows confidence and meets us as an equal at the table.
• Holds back and is "beaten down" by our organization.
• Has a phobia about numbers that trips her up - she should let it go.

???????

WTF.

There is more good than bad in the feedback that I received, but of course it is the bad that resonates with us. One set of comments in particular took me completely by surprise and were attributed to a female VP that I had no concept of having issues with. She described her staff as being "terrified of me." Me??? Little old me??? I cannot even imagine what I've done or said that has created this. And a part of me is horrified.

Another part of me is intrigued.

Am I less or more likely to get service from this team as a result of this terrifying persona?

Disconnect

I always knew my VP operated on a different plain that I do - especially in his private life - living in Manhattan by Central Park, traveling internationally constantly (winter trips to ski in Vail, mid-winter fishing in Patagonia, Christmas in The Hague, Summer in the Hamptons), but today I got my confirmation that it might actually be a different PLANET.

White tablecloth dining only in VP's world.

VP: "Hey - there are lots of leftovers from my lunch meeting if anyone wants something."

Admin: "Oh great, I haven't been able to get out for anything - what was the lunch?"


VP: "Sandwiches and things."


Admin: "From the regular deli?"


VP: "No, from some other place I never heard of - Quoo-Zee-Nos?"


Admin: "Um...do you mean Quiznos?"


VP: "Yeah, that might be it. Ever heard of it?"

Admin: (laughing) "Obviously you don't dine in the slums with the rest of us."

Fine dining for the "little people".

Popularity Contest

Did your high school have those fundraisers where different colored carnations were sold for like a dollar a piece? At my high school, the flowers were tinted for each possible event - and it seemed like there was a sale about every other week. Supposedly they were for the good of the class - you know, funds for PROM and GRADUATION and such.

BULL CRAP.

This was all about those most desirable chicks being able to act surprised and sweetly embarrassed when a bucketful of flowers were dumped on their desks in homeroom. They complained about having to carry them around all day from class to class, how INCONVENIENT it all was, how they couldn't understand how it was possible that Tom, Joe, Tim, Patrick AND Tony all bought them flowers the same day...I mean didn't those guys know she was already dating Peter? It was almost as bad as when they complained about having to wear their boyfriend's football jersey to school on game day. "Oh, it's so big, I look like a whale." "Oh I hate our school colors...if my boyfriend didn't MAKE me wear it I'd never wear this color."

GAG.

In my senior year of high school, I sat duty at the flower sale table rolling my eyes as the same names were written on the delivery cards over and over again. Nothing had changed for FOUR LONG YEARS. It was almost always the RASCK (a clique that was created using the first letters of each of the girls' first names). Renata, Amy, Stacy, Cindi, Karen....(notice there is NO W in RASCK).

At one point I actually asked a guy I was friends with to just BUY ME A DAMN FLOWER ALREADY. I told him he could send it to me ANONYMOUSLY. I told him I would GIVE him the dollar.

He politely declined.

Color me embarrassed.

Now, I've always had friends. And lots of them. Even in high school and across all cliques. My friends are top quality folks and I love them. Even though most of them continue to abandon me and scatter to the four corners of the earth these days. But I guess I still suffer from that sense of non-popular (a.k.a. inferiority) complex that was represented by my flowerless days in high school.

Time for redemption.

Last week I was recommended for an on-line interview on the internet. And, well, they have a voting process for the most popular blogs. I don't pretend to play in the big leagues here - no penetrating discussions here of hot news topics, no in-depth soul searching, not even superior writing or even good grammar.

But, I sure would like to get a couple of votes.

Click here, read my boring interview, and give me your vote.
(You can vote once every 24 hours...you know American Idol style)

And while you're at it, why not visit the upper right corner of my blog and "Follow me" so I can believe in the hordes of you out there hanging on my every word.

Won't you make me just a little popular??

Brain Fry

Lately I've been mesmerized by tv.

Did you see the Hulu commercial with Alec Baldwin they launched at the Superbowl? Yeah, that's my mushy brain he's laughing about.

While I think everyone deserves to shut it down and vegitate now and again...it's become total habit (think drug habit) for me to escape work at 7:30PM, hit the house by 8-ish, and proceed to eat my reheated leftovers while curled up on the couch in front of the tv.

Weekends? Yup. The same. I do laundry and I watch tv. Glad I have that pause button for the DVR so I can hit the laundry room, the kitchen, and the bathroom once in a while.

Turns out I'm not alone. If you google tv addiction you'd be amazed at what comes up. Everything from scientific studies with graphs and charts, to support groups, to (love this irony) tv guides and blogs about what to watch tonight. (Enable much?)

One site had a bunch of scientific evidence from 2003-2005 including the average hours per day for leisure activities - look at that spike on TV!

I can't get behind the numbers on the male/female ratio in my household because while Hubby joins me sometimes, he is not nearly as zoned out or tuned in as I am. He has the ability to get up...in the MIDDLE OF A SHOW. (WTF!)..and just say, "I'm tired, I'm off to bed." Or to go into the other room and doodle on the computer, pick up a book, run out for errands, or even head out for a hike or photo shoot.

I, however, am glued to the "boob tube". And with umpteen gazillion channels, the movie package, AND DVR'd favorites, there is never a time when I say, "there's nothing on" anymore. I have a fear that I could become a pasty-faced goggle eyed freak with a self-induced case of agoraphobia and a vocabulary consisting of only one syllable words.

This chart was downright scary...because I had started my quest for blog fodder with a half-hearted tongue in cheek story about tv addiction. Then I looked at this chart...and you know...

I'm resting firmly in Phase 2. Well, to be honest, I'm pretty much Phase 3.

They say the first step is to admit you have a problem.

This article also goes on to say if you are so far gone (Phase 3) you have to make radical changes not just to watch less TV, but to exchange your tv time for other activities. Something Phase 3-ers have a very difficult time doing. In fact, the article suggests Phase 3-ers could actually experience physiological and psychological withdrawal symptoms just like any other addict.

Great.

Maybe I have to seriously consider how to make a change here.

{think think think}

Oops. Gotta run. NCIS starts in 20 minutes.

Glimmer of Hope

Do you remember that old poster of a kitten hanging from a tree branch by its claws and the headline, "Hang in There Baby"? I'm not trying to return to my cat theme of last post, but hell, I've been thinking of that animal an awful lot lately.

Last week I attended an industry conference in New Orleans where client after client told me how they were cutting back severely and just hoping for a turnaround in 2011. So, not only have they faced the bleak picture of 2009, but have already essentially given up on 2010. As a marketing professional this is one of those times where you need to get a little corny and say - every challenge presents an equal opportunity. (Gag - such an overused phrase). But still, it is essentially true. This is the time that you need to be even more vocal about the value you provide to your clients (or your employer). More importantly, you need to actually PROVIDE value (especially in cost-saving strategies they need). Most importantly, you need to not retreat and hide under the bed. Silence denotes surrender.

That being said, it is also a time I have to make tough calls on approving training or overtime for my staff. I also watch with concern the peaks and valleys of workload rather than the steady stream we had become used to over the past 8 years. So now I am urging my staff to dig up the old wish list - the things we think are valuable but we never seem to have the time to implement. Of course, they must be NO COST wish list items, but still...

All of our firm's numbers look good so far this year, but I think the executives see a cliff quickly approaching and they are trying to be proactive in cutting waste. We have salary freezes, hiring freezes, and promotion freezes. Essentially, it is getting cold in here! As a prime example, I had a stellar review today - really beyond the norm - but since there is no money for raises and no promotions this year, it doesn't cost the firm anything to be overwhelmingly positive and I have to accept the pat on the back for its own value, I guess.

Just when I feel like I'm about to lose my grip on that little branch however... one of my unemployed friends (yes, there are several now) emailed to tell me he has accepted a new position.

A small glimmer of hope.

Purrr-fect

**Warning - if you are an animal lover in general, a cat lover specifically, this is the post for you. If not...tune out now you'll be bored to tears.**

As many of you already know - since my very popular blogging hubby announced it some time ago, we have adopted two new furry friends into our family. After 6 months of turning items dropped on the floor into the ghost of our last pet - the memorable CK Dexter Haven - we determined we were ready to take the emotional leap into pet-hood again.

We knew we did NOT want to re-create our experience with Dex - the good or the bad - but to create a new one. I begain searching on http://www.petfinder.com/ for local charities that supported pet adoption programs. I specifically skipped any cats that physically reminded me of Dex, staying well clear of black fur. And I was mostly focusing on kittens.

The best laid plans.

After talking with a dear friend who is of the highest order of all animal lovers - the kind who takes in strays and DOES NOT reject them if they get extremely ill, destroy property, attack other house pets, or any other digression - we started to consider adult cats as an option. She said that usually the kittens find homes, but many of the adults are left to live in shelters, non-permanent homes, or worst of all be put to sleep because they are no longer as cute as a kitten.

So, new plan.

We decided to wander in to our local PetSmart who offer space in their store on weekends to some pet adoption organizations. We walked up to the glass and immediately separated. Hubby made eye contact with a wildly gesticulating 12-week old grey/black tabby, while I melted at the golden eyes staring soulfully out at me from (you guessed it) a big black furry face.

We've got a live one!

Within seconds the "crazy cat ladies" as I will affectionately and not inaccurately term the women of the adoption organization, descended upon us and wanted to know what we were looking for in a pet. They quickly opened cages and placed the kitten in Hubby's arms, and the black cat in mine. Immediate purring commenced from both animals and we were hooked. We placed them on the floor together where they...inspected?...one another. The kitten, being young, foolish and rambunctious, immediately leaped on the black cat until a warning hiss sent her scurrying. Still, they seemed compatible enough, and we were ready.

Red tape and paperwork.

I sat down at the table and began the paperwork. The adoption application that had to be filled out were 6 pages long! We had to pass a kind of fit test to ensure we were appropriate to adopt. They asked for references, commitment to spay but NOT declaw, commitment to not set limits on how much we would spend for vet care in event of illness, commitment to not allow the cats outdoors, etc. etc. etc. The paperwork warned of serious screening of references, imminent home visits, and retrieval of the pets should the home be considered unsuitable. In addition, we had to meet with the woman currently fostering the black cat as she required preapproval.

Crazy cat ladies indeed.

After about 15 minutes in walks the woman fostering the cat we wished to adopt. Complete with pink sweatshirt with sequined kitties, stretch pants, big Edith Head black plastic framed glasses, and jet black dyed hair down to her waist, she was a sight to behold. She gave us her own little pre-screening once over and pronounced us acceptable and then took us on a whirlwind tour of the store to pick out just the right food, toys, litter, and accoutrements to make our house perfect for the Queen. She also indicated that both cat and kitten might leap up on our table to be fed since she was currently fostering NINE cats and SIX dogs and she had to feed the cats on her dining room table so the dogs didn't eat their food. Ok, I love cats, but yuck. I really don't want something that licks its own butt and genitals eating off my dining room table.

The Queen and the Princess.

The Queen, who was christened Yasmine before we got her (we call her Yazzy or Yazmatazz) is only a little over 1 year old, and weighs twice what Dexter ever weighed. In short, she's a porker. And, despite my declarations to stay away from black cats, she is JET black.

She LOVES getting attention from us - but in typical cat fashion she has specific boundaries and restrictions. She wants to be petted, but does not want to be in our laps. She will allow herself to be carried, but not held. She does NOT like her belly to be touched, but arches her back and sticks her ass up in the air so we can pay attention to her lower back area - petted, scratched, patted, whatever we like all the time. She also is very fond of being our morning wake-up call and likes to crawl on our pillows and bat our faces at about 4AM. Maybe she will finally succeed in turning me into a morning person. And she does not feel that we deserve or should expect any privacy while in the bathroom. She wants IN. NOW.

The Princess, who was originally named Daphne and we re-named Penny, is a pistol. She likes to be in our faces (literally) and has discovered one of Dex's favorite resting places, wrapped around my laptop with the double heat source of sunspots and laptop motor fans.

She is a typical kitten - everywhere at once - up down and over - and using her claws to go vertical at every opportunity. She loves to crawl up the chairs we have in our home office, which have a tapestry like fabric that she can really hook into. I can't say the chairs (or I) are quite so happy about it. She will not leave Yaz alone. Ever. Ever. Ever. She likes to bat at Yaz until Yaz gets to a point where she either engages in a full out throw-down or runs away with the little kitten chasing her. I can't express how funny it is to see the big lumbering fat black cat being chased up and down the stairs by the skinny sleek little tabby. Rarely it turns the other way, which is almost as funny as Penny tends to turn at the last minute and jump about 4 feet straight up in the air always catching Yaz by surprise.

Our new family unit.

It's been an interesting transition again - having just become accustomed to life without an animal, to take in two new and strange creatures. I think it's going to work out.

But that commitment to not declaw? That's still up for debate.

Only in New Orleans...

...would the Ritz Carlton mini-bar be stocked casually with these:

Hangover Relief
The Power is in the Fizz!

The Ritz Carlton (complete with lion logo) Intimacy Kit

2 condoms, 2 obstetrical towelettes, 1 package of lubricating jelly

Enough said.

iTunes - Skewing the Database

So in my master's program at Mville, we often discuss the interactive function of today's marketing-purchase-data record cycle. If you order a book on Amazon it automatically categorizes your purchase and starts to recommend books of similar topic, style, author, etc. It immediately tells you what other books were purchased in combination with your selection by other shoppers. Powerful algorithms are cranking away in the background advising you like an expert on the next chick lit book you'll love, or the classic author you have neglected, or the book on knitting (which must be related to a gift purchase, because god knows you don't knit).

Today I skewed my iTunes profile. I made my very first purchase. My iTunes library to date has been completely constructed by transferring our bizarre CD collection into the computer. But yesterday I switched away from NPR/CBS depressing economy news and sought ear candy with WPLJ - long lived pop-rock radio station complete with extremely annoying morning team of idiots. They had brought into the studio a young british singer I'd never heard of - Lily Allen. Her music was pop with attitude, and probably way to young for me, but it was new, fun, and I enjoyed it. Her voice was a little smoky and her slight cockney accent came through as she sang.

So today, I did it. I hit the purchase button on iTunes and purchased the entire album for $9.99.

As it downloaded I noticed a little red box to the side...what does that say?

Oh dear. EXPLICIT.

I started looking at the song titles.

Oh dear. One is titled F**K You.

Hmmmm.

So you can just guess what kind of recommendations I'm getting from the iTunes Store "Genius" now.

But I have to admit. I like that F**K You song. It's a bouncy little rendition that makes me smile. And with the news these days (another friend called me for help with his resume, having just lost his job), a little F**K You song goes a long way.

Abe & Charlie

So it's quite the date on the calendar - celebrating the birth of Abraham Lincoln and Charles Darwin.







Old Abe would be 200 years old today, if it wasn't for that assassination thing. Oh, and that natural inability for humans to live that long too.


I recently got to see the Lincoln Memorial in person for the first time. It was an amazing sight to see. But if you've ever been there you'll notice it's not like in the movies when a contemplative moment can be spent gazing into the alabaster face of Mr. Lincoln, solemnly reading his words, considering the historic ramifications of his life. No, it is a mob scene with a gazillion school kids on their annual trip, screaming babies, and generations of Americans in bad tourist outfits trying to hit 22 sites in an hour.


Still...if you can shut all that out and just consider the vision he must have had and the strength, and the fortitude, and the brilliance, to do what he did...say what he did...and plant the seeds that he did...its so humbling. It really makes you wonder how history chooses to find the souls who can leave their mark in such meaningful ways. And do these remarkable individuals know what impact they will have 200 years later?


Those seeds Lincoln planted have grown slowly and unsteadily, but they are gradually bearing fruit. And while we still have a long way to go, we can proudly declare we've come far...all following in the footsteps of this great man.

----

And then there's Charlie - known to some of you as Charles Darwin - a man who still causes angst and strife among the hords of faithful and blind who cannot conceive of an alternative meaning to 'God created the world in 7 days'.


If Darwin had done nothing else but piss off the religious fanatics of the world, I would worship HIM as if a god. But in reality his brilliance did not stop there, but in laying the groundwork for understanding of who and what we are, how we have survived thus far, and the very essence of us - in the discovery of genes. While Darwin probably had no concept that genes would someday be discovered and hold the truth and key to our ultimate survival, he certainly understood that the characteristics that genes play a role in developing created our ability to be "fit" enough for the world.


It makes so much sense that I cannot believe that anyone disputes it.


---

If I weren't so afraid of losing my job and not finding one again before I starved and had to move me, my hubby, and my two kitties to a nice little Whirlpool box in the alley, I'd quit my job tomorrow. What would I do? I would do nothing but read books about Abe Lincoln and locate fossils to mail to school board members who want to subvert children's education by eliminating evolution in science classes and teaching creationism.

Really, these people need a bonk on the head.

Instead I'll have to settle for marking the date on my calendar and thanking Abe for starting us down the path to a better world (if only he had tackled gay rights too)...and thanking Charlie for upending the ridiculous and showing us light and reason. Oh, and creating the premise for Survivor.

Do the Math

I do way too much thinking when I'm driving. Really I should be paying attention to the road, but the drive to/from work is so automatic my mind wanders and wanders and wanders.

Tonight I was thinking about the economy...again...and getting freaked out...again. All I had to hear was that the stock market dropped almost 400 points...again...and my mind started spinning...again.

So I started to do the math. Assume there are about 200 million adults in the U.S. population between the ages of 15-64. Then conservatively assume that of those 200 million 50% are actively earning money. So we're down to 100 million potential spenders. Then assume only 50% of them have dispensable income available to them...another conservative figure I would think. So now we are down to 50 million.

Then, assume 50 million people represent say 30 million households - assuming some partnerships, marriages, co-habitation, multi-adult family households, etc. So how much could each of those households spend to equal the $800 billion that equates to our pending stimulus bill?


$27,000 U.S. greenbacks folks...per household.


Now I would consider our household (luckily) still one of those 30 million. But here's the thing. We just bought a car in December for, you guessed it, $27,000. Granted it is financed for a few years, but essentially it has been spent. So, I think we've done our part.

Now since this $800 billion is actually the SECOND stimulus package of this amount to be put in place, you can double that household bill of $27k. And just imagine the hangover THAT will create for all of us when the tax bill comes due. So, before they start adding up number three, I think the rest of you 29,999,999 housholds need to get out there and help out this sickly and sad economy. Buy a car. Buy a coat. Hell, buy lunch. Just get out there and open those fists.

(and in the background I hear my Dad..."save your money!")

This math is making me tired.

The Unwillingness to Say No

In all of the "profiles" I've done through various team building activities at work, and through all the 360 reviews, etc. there has been one major and consistent flaw pointed out in my personality - I'm just the girl who can't say no. (at least at work)

I'm too accommodating. I'm too easy on my clients. I don't stop to ask "Should" we do this? I just pause and think "How can" we do this.

And so here I sit at 9:30PM at night, having once again, bent over backwards to take care of a client. The client (my client = internal staff, project manager) called in a panic with edits to a series of technical figures. He called at 5PM. The designer who created the files had left to pick up her son from day care and he needed edits made by 10PM tonight. What??? a 10PM client deadline? WTF?

But, I didn't question. I truly assume that when people contact you in a panic at 5PM with a 10PM deadline they have exhausted all options to push this until the morning. I tracked down the designer in her car, asked her to please log in from home and make the edits. She was good enough to do it. We worked together (through a couple of crashes, some bad handwriting on edits, and two totally unexplained marks that we had to track people down to explain) and were getting the last edits done at 9:30 when one of the team members IM'd me to say they were going to forward the file to the client without the figures since the edits weren't done and we could finish in the morning.

WHAT???????

We had an option for doing the edits in the morning?????

I'm feeling used and abused. And worse, I passed that along to the designer who is at home with a 5 year old and having to ignore his needs to take care of this.

I think I've learned this lesson before, and it hasn't stuck. Maybe this time?

Extreme Green

Ok - I stole this from Nicole's Blog 60 piggies...isn't this the coolest thing ever?



I cannot think of anything that I would love more than stepping out of my shower onto this bath mat. It's living moss! Especially now, in this neverending winter we are having. It's like summer shade in your house. It's the green roof technique brought inside!



Of course on the site that it was featured on, there were all kinds of naysayers - germs, dying moss, not right for homes with pets, etc. etc. etc. But hopefully the kinks will be worked out and it will be an option someday. My toes will be very excited.

Old Fashioned

I learned something new about teenagers recently. Many of them no longer know how to read or write in cursive!

In the computer era we have managed to completely obliterate the art of hand-written communication. While watching MK open her Bat Mitzvah loot, I was astonished that as she opened each card and we asked, "Who is it from MK? What did they write?" She repeatedly responded, (in a wail), "I don't know! I can't read it!" It wasn't that the handwriting was particularly hard to read, it was that it was written in cursive.

She can only read PRINT!

It's official. The age of email and text messages has taken us one step further toward being unable to communicate without technology.

I had come to terms with the fact that as the years go by I will receive fewer and fewer letters in the mail, and I will send fewer and fewer myself. Email and I are friends, and I'm a fast typist, so even when I was writing letters, I often typed them and printed from the computer. But I also appreciated the beauty of cursive and often selected a font that looked like handwriting to personalize my messages.

But no longer. Now I must print. In ugly block letters.

I predict soon all fonts will have to be sans serif - removing all remnants of artistry in case it actually makes it too difficult for our next generation to read. Italics will be permanently banned as totally unreadable. And forget seeing calligraphy on your wedding invitations any longer. It is already the norm to see computer address labels on them. Next you will receive e-vites with an rsvp to an email account.

In discussing this travesty with friends, they talked of how no generation in the future will find ribbon-bound letters in a trunk and be able to slowly read their grandparent's love story. Items like these will be relegated to museums and future generations will think- how odd it was to have to use a pen and paper to send messages. You'll need a PhD to interpret the beautiful cursive handwritten notes and museum display cases will include electronic translations of the message.

How strange life is. How quickly it moves.

So, bye-bye fountain pen.

Hello arthritic thumbs and texting.

Damn. I feel so old fashioned.

Hello, my name is Wenderina, and I'm a West Wing Junkie

As I look at that title, I suddenly realize the play on words. Since the the creator of this show, Aaron Sorkin, has had his difficulties with pharmaceuticals...but what I truly mean to portray is my love of this man's incredible writing.

Lately, I've been watching several episodes of West Wing a day. This happened by chance as I did not realize what setting the DVR to tape "All episodes on this channel in any time slot" would bring me. MANY many many episodes of the West Wing. I was a devotee of this series the entire time it was on the air, and was truly sorry to see it go. I felt there could have been a continuing series with a new administration, the actors they added only served to enhance and deepen the writing. But alas, there are those pesky ratings.

Granted, most episodes were extremely idealistic and spoke of a White House that actually operated with high-minded goals, integrity, and related mostly to those of us who lean to the left. But Aaron Sorkin's greatest moments were often when he presented the opposing arguments, introduced a conservative, a dissent, a new point of view that caused the lefties like me to pause a moment and either re-commit to our original position, engage in a healthy debate, or allow ourselves to realize there was possibly more than one way to meet a challenge. Aaron Sorkin introduced memorable characters who were proclaimed Republicans (the enemy) and in no way were they moderate. They were dedicated to the ideals of that party just as the Democrats were dedicated to theirs. Sometimes they (gasp) were given positions right there in the White House. But most significantly, they were dedicated and brilliant individuals.

The most memorable for me was the introduction of a Republican lawyer who lambasted the position of the current administration on Sunday morning talk shows - a beautiful blonde woman (now seen on CSI Miami, quite the intellectual step down) who found herself offered a job as a White House counsel. Her Republican friends sat around a table and laughed at the offer, ridiculed the Democrats, and insulted the administration. Far from joining in, this woman stopped and made a grand statement:



As Aaron Sorkin concluded the series, he determined the Democrats would once again win the next election, but he also positioned the losing Republican candidate as the next Secretary of State. Very pie in the sky. Who would believe that partisan politics could take the back seat to putting the best minds to work together in politics?

This weekend I was reminded of this and the feelings Aaron Sorkin inspired in me, and how he actually made me think that there could be some positive sides to politics, that there may be some people out there who actually live to serve the country, that there might be a better way of governing than what we experience in the dirty pages of the media. I was at a friend's home and they were discussing the country's obsession and almost blind euphoric worship of the new president. They are staunch supporters of him and his position, but they fear that this worship is unhealthy. Similarly, another blog I read posted something similar and found herself hosting comments that equally attacked her position or claimed to support it, but instead were actually virulently hateful of the new administration and their positions. I prefer to think of the new administration as a potential that Aaron Sorkin was more prophetic in his writing than idealistic.



But I also caution the world to temper their hope and admiration with a dose of reality. To believe that, as we saw in West Wing, holding too tightly to a single position without healthy debate and respect for the potential good ideas that can be posed by others is detrimental. And to know and understand that this president, like those who have gone before him, may fall down as often as he soars.

In the meantime, pick up some West Wing on cable or on DVD and enjoy the extraordinary human potential, the idealist views, the honorable debate, the struggle for answers to the world's toughest problems, and the inspiring writing behind it all.

Thank you Mr. Sorkin, and your excellent writing staff.

Shiksa in the Temple!

So - last week was THE Bat Mitzvah.





We arrived and got the word from my sister-in-law that we had a reading to do.


This. was. news. to. me.


Now I'm not shy about public speaking. Despite having avoided it for much of my earlier years, at some point something clicked in my brain, and now I couldn't care less. However, most of my speaking is in business environments where I know my topic, my environment, and my audience. A temple where people talk about...you know...God and stuff, is NOT my comfort zone. But I love my niece and decided to go with the flow.


The flow, however, did not include rehearsal, a program, or any other guidelines except a little crib sheet of what we were to say (English responses or translations of Hebrew phrases) and that we should listen for a part of the service where a specific phrase was said.


Been to a Bat Mitzvah lately? There is a book. You start on page 121 or some such and it goes for 2 hours.


TWO. WHOLE. HOURS.

Are we in the first 30 minutes, I wondered? the second? the end? No one could seem to answer me. The result was hubby and I were two of the most avid listeners in the joint that day... waiting with bated breath for the phrase to arise. We thought we had a general idea about it, but they occasionally skipped sections, or something that looked like a reading became a chant with repeating verse, etc. We were a little lost.


Finally the phrase was spoken and we dutifully rose, as if on a well-rehearsed cue, and made our way to the altar (is it an altar in temple?) See this picture below? This picture was taken on Thursday BEFORE the event. I can assure you that the Rabbi was not in attendance or I would not be touching the Torah....not a Shiksa like me!








I had reviwed the reading in advance with hubby and split the sections so that I minimized my "God" stuff. I tried to stick with phrases about spirit, humanity, community, etc. I don't think they would have liked me to go off script and say something about organized religion being the death of humanity and morality in the world.


Luckily, despite my non-believer status, the roof did not crash down upon us.


Thinking back upon my 13-year old self, I cannot imagine a greater torture than having to learn to read another language and then to conduct a service for two hours in front of family, friends, and relative strangers (or strange relatives) in that language. Yet MK took it all in stride. In fact, she reveled in it. Her Hebrew was nearly flawless and she was praised by all in attendance as having performed one of the most flawless Bat Mitzvah celebrations ever (this to the groans and exclamations of many 30-40 year olds in the audience who felt they were being maligned and discounted in the family memory for their less stellar performances.)



The day stretched before us in an unending observation and celebration of this special day. The reception was a cacophony of noise and sounds heightened by the screaming of 13-year old girls, the awkwardness of 13-year old boys, and the unique opportunity to sit among strangers who somehow are related to you and were grouped at your table by some interesting formula of 10.

If you've ever had the desire to return to your junior high school for one more dance...go to a Bar/Bat Mitzvah. Most of the same rules apply, except you no longer know the music (who are the Jonas Brothers and why do ALL the girls scream when they are mentioned?) and you need a little alcohol to get you on the dance floor at all.



All in all, the event was a success, and even when less than 24 hours later the proud and tearful parents who had delivered such moving speeches about their wonderful daughter, her strength and independence, her sense of right and wrong, and her grace under pressure dissolved into the typical parental screams of "MK - I don't CARE what you THINK! You will DO AS I SAY!!!", we all still remained friends in the end.


And the dress you say? Well, I went with the blue velvet because the theme of the evening was "BROADWAY", the star of the evening was a knock-out in a strapless gown, and god knows you need a little drama with that.

And to tell you the truth - just look at that darlin' girl...I can put all my religious misgivings, my fashion ineptness, and my musical tastes out of my mind, just to spend a day with that glowing smile.

Happy Birthday Dad

Today is my Dad's birthday. He would have been 83. I miss him every day, but the 6 years since he passed have gone by in a blur, and the new normal has set in. I've been wondering lately what he would think of the world today and trying to fill in his side of the conversation.



Dad, what do you think about this economy?
Save your money.


















Dad, isn't this just amazing, we have elected and sworn in the first black president of the United States.
Those boys have come a long way since I was a kid.














Dad, they just can't seem to find peace in the Middle East.
Wipe it off the face of the earth and forget about it.


Dad, I'm worried about keeping my job. No company can guarantee work anymore.
Work hard. Do your part. You can't do anything else...oh..except save your money.





Dad, what do you think of what's on tv these days?
Boob tube. Too much filth...too much blood and guts...I prefer a good Tom Clancy novel.


Dad, I just turned 42 and this is your 83rd birthday...how has this happened?
Beats the hell out of me kiddo.


Dad, I love you and miss you. I'm sorry if work and life kept me away from you too much in the later years of your life.
I love and miss you too and we all need to live our own lives. I'm proud of you and that hubby of yours. You did ok.

Fist-Bumps All Round

Everyone and their brother will be posting about the inauguration of our NEW president today. From the Chief Justice's faux pas in swearing him in, to the color of the new first lady's dress, and it will be extensively reported that President Obama was inspiring in his speech and how the greatest takeaway most of us could have was his encouragement to put away childish things (i.e., grow up) and take responsibility for our own actions. It will also be extensively reported that his daughters were adorable in J. Crew and gave him the thumbs up on his activities to date.

But what about poor Dubya? After eight excruciating years, he retires as the least popular president since the measurements began. I am glad that the cameras and microphones did not pick up the rampant boos which reporters claimed were a part of the crowds on the mall. It's classier to just tip our hats and say, "Goodbye, Mr. President" and be thankful his term of office is over and be hopeful we can recover from the mess we now inherit.

Here's hoping that we each find a way to take up our part to help our new president in the days ahead. Because while it is convenient to use the 43rd president as a scapegoat and blame him for most of our ills today, it is for sure that one man alone didn't take us here...and it's for sure that one man alone won't get us out.

Get ready America. The Obama's have come to town. It's time for ALL of us to serve.

In Flight

A small bird just flew in and landed on the seat across from me. INSIDE the airport. Might be better living arrangements than outside. We are in Newark after all.

Thinking of Dexter

In July we lost our pet of nearly 18 years, a little black kitty named Dexter (or C.K. Dexter Haven - from the Philadephia Story. I've been thinking of him a lot the last few weeks. I've stumbled on some pictures recently, and others that I know have recently lost pets and it brings the feeling back.

Hubby and I were always adamant that we not be called Dexter's Mom and Dad...I never really understood why people did that. But yet, he was a child of ours in many ways, totally dependent on us for his care and feeding, subject to our moods and whims, and a part of our emotional health.

They say that pets can lengthen your life, lower your blood pressure, reduce your stress, and provide you with comfort simply by allowing you to stroke their fur, walk them around the block, listen to them purr or snore. I believe it. After his death, our house felt so very very empty at first that it was almost unbearable. It actually no longer felt like a welcome place to be. It was uncomfortable and silent. You see, Dex was antisocial with everyone except us. With us, he couldn't get enough. He always wanted to be with us - he loved parking on my desk - often wrapping his body around my laptop, enjoying the heat from it and watching my fingers on the keys.

But time changes things, and you adjust to the new normal. I think over the past six months we have stopped seeing him in every shadow on the floor, stopped waiting for him to come around the corner, ceased feeling a phantom jumping on the bed when one of us moves a certain way. There are moments, however, when I just cannot believe that crazy animal is gone. When I walk in the door at night, I feel it. For nearly 18 years I would walk in and he would run to greet me, and my greeting to him would be, "Hello Monster." Because he was a monster in so many ways. A bit of a sociopath honestly. But he was our sociopath.

It's funny to realize that our little Dexter witnessed our early years of marriage, several apartments and homes, and all of the events of our 20's and our 30's, eventually seeing us both turn 40. Far from being just a bystander, they are witnesses and participants in our lives and help us mark the time on this earth. We see them grow older more rapidly than we do - almost as a precursor to our own aging, often facing illnesses that may bring more suffering than quality of life can bear. Would that someone would show us the humanity of helping us depart the world in dignity as we can help our pets when the cure is worse than the illness, or when the pain and suffering gets to be too much.

I miss Dexter. He was a good companion, and always a good source of anecdotes because of his crazy antics. I think we gave him a good home. I think he had a good life. I think he would understand and hopefully appreciate that we put him to sleep knowing his life had little joy and a lot of suffering. I wish we could have allowed him a death in his sleep at home, curled at the foot of our bed, warming his fur in a sunspot, but we didn't have control of that choice.

I've found myself checking out websites for shelters in our area...looking at cats that need a new home. I think we're almost ready to do this again. Maybe we'll even get two cats this time. One for each lap, one for each pair of feet, a duo that can keep one another company while we go about our human business.

This time, we'll have animals who will witness our 40's, 50's and maybe even as we turn 60. If they are like Dex, they will give us as much care as we give them - and will comfort us, quiet our stress, and make us laugh. They may even drive us a little crazy, destroy a few loved pieces of furniture or bedding, and frighten our guests. But they'll be OUR little monsters, just the same.

Color Correction

Another snowy Saturday, another two hours at the salon, a much better result. I got back in my regular chair (with owner) and she said, "This is way too dark and dull for you, right? Why didn't you come back right away?" Finally. Someone who gets me. No one else seemed to see the difference. Or maybe they were too polite to say, "damn, your hair looks awful."

Lesson in taking care of your loyal customers.At the end she took my photo to add to the webpage they are developing (Yes, I am that gorgeous...but the pictures may not be) and she didn't charge me for the color.

The result: Not only did I come home happy, I came home and populated three sites on the web with positive reviews of the salon.

Men may never understand that it is harder for a woman to change stylists/salons than it is to change gynecologists. A bad gyno appointment only lasts about 5 minutes, a bad hair style can last for months and the trauma for years.

Am I wrong?

THE Bat Mitzvah

My niece is 13.

This is a big enough deal for any girl - you know the whole teenage entry and stuff. But MK? she's been a teenager for years...all about the fashion, the boys, the phone calls, the texting and god knows, she has the teenage drama thing down cold.

Don't get me wrong. I love the girl dearly, but holy cats can she put on a show.

So here she is in her ideal place - the middle of the spotlight, in the starring role of her own life. Her Bat Mitzvah. THE Bat Mitzvah. And apparently, this is bigger than super sweet sixteen and a wedding all wrapped into one (at least for now).

When I turned 13? I had a slumber party. A few girlfriends arrived at my house at 6PM. We played games, watched tv, giggled incessantly, ate junk food - all in our comfy and somewhat ratty pj's. We were asleep by midnight. There was, of course, a breakfast the next day ( as I recall it was Apple Jacks and toast) and then they were gone, by 10AM.

Considering my inexperience in understanding the scale of THE Bat Mitzvah, can you blame me for thinking we should write a really big check? Turns out, that is not expected, which is good, cuz you know, there's a recession and all, but what IS expected is participation - major participation.

We will fly out for a week in San Francisco, a week full of events. We will stay in a local hotel and rent our own car. I have been informed that we must present ourselves in full dress on Thursday afternoon for formal family photography session. I have further been informed that we are to participate in the Thursday night dinner, the Friday night dinner, and Friday night temple. Then we are to present ourselves again at the temple at 8AM Saturday for more family pictures and then the actual Bat Mitzvah ceremony. Saturday night is the BIG party (and probably more photography)...think wedding reception style event - which has a Broadway Theater theme (drama, right?). Sunday AM? is the grandparent hosted brunch.

So last night I struggled with the question all cool protestant-reared Aunts of young Jewish women must contend with: What the hell is a Bat Mitzvah, and more importantly, what the hell do I wear? AND do I have shoes to go with it?

Last week I spoke with the birthday girl herself and she was on her way to get her "gown" fitted. It seems this is one of several special outfits she will have for the various activities around this weekend. Apparently it is strapless, shimmery, and quite the fashion statement. MK then asked if I had purchased my dress yet? "No," I informed her, "I'm not buying a new dress."

MK: "Oh." (read the disappointment and disapproval dripping from that one syllable.)

Wenderina: "I have a dress already I think will be fine."

MK: "Oh," as she tries to be supportive, "well what does it look like?"

Wenderina: "It's just a basic black dress."

no response

Wenderina: "Sleeveless."

no response

Wenderina: "Scoop neck."

no response

Wenderina: "Knee length."

no response

Wenderina; "It's a classic little black dress."

no response

Wenderina: "I really like it and it was such a great deal. It's Calvin Klein."

MK: "Oh! Sounds great!"

...yeah, it's like that with MK.

So needless to say, when I saw Coldwater Creek had a super sale going on, I scrolled through the catalog to see if there was something that might better meet MK's expectations. I ordered a blue velvet "gown" with a pleated back vent and a little rhinestone pin, etc. etc. etc. Much more "special" than the Calvin Klein, despite the lesser label. It arrived yesterday and I found myself trying this new dress on, then the little black dress, then a gold dress I had worn ONCE to a friends wedding...parading them all in front of Hubby with various pashminas, jewelry choices, and shoes...

I don't know why I'm kidding myself...or Hubby, for that matter.
The answer is right in front of me.

Of course I will take them ALL.

And seek MK's approval of the right one. Because you see, MK at 13 has more fashion sense and girl genes and proper sense of drama than this 40+ year old will ever have.

Happy New Year

So...somewhere after 12/31/08, I got a little lost. Suddenly it's like halfway through January 2009. Ok. So it isn't halfway. It's only January 7th, but DAMN, that week went fast.

This week has been that typical first full week after the November/December holiday season. Suddenly everyone remembers they work for a living, they have plans that have to be finalized, travel that needs to be scheduled, and everything MUST BE DONE RIGHT NOW.

I've spent the last three days on the phone ALL DAMN DAY. And while I've got my bluetooth going with one conference call, I'm answering emails, filing documents, and scheduling the next conference call all at the same time. My work day today began at 7:30AM and will not end until approximately 9PM (ah the joys of Global business and multinational time zones). This is actually pretty typical work week activity, but in the past 6 weeks I've managed to forget that since everything is different from the week before Thanksgiving through New Years.

I can honestly say I've done more work in the past three days than in the past three weeks. And you know what the best part is? I feel like I have a good job. A secure job. A job that MUST be done. After the last two months of budget angst, economic stress, layoffs, and other not so good holiday news, it feels, well, normal.

I told this to one of the execs earlier today - that after a couple of months of dread for 2009, I suddenly feel excited about it, and he said (over)confidently, "It's going to be a GOOD year."

"I hope so." I replied.

Then he said, "Just remember Hope is NOT a strategy."

Um. ok.

Anyways, thank God for the new year.

And fingers crossed I'm not just rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic.