Land of the Aging Disco Queens

Ever wonder what happened to the hot to trot Disco Queens and Kings of the 1970s? Those truly passionate about the dance and disco movement could not have given up their spandex so easily could they?

I'm here today to tell you it's true. They are still out there working the dance floor.

I've discovered their lair and it ain't pretty.



Saturday night while catering to the Bride-to-be's desire to party and celebrate the end of her Bachelorette status (the sequel), a bunch of 38-52 year old women found themselves wandering from club to club amidst scantily clad 21? year old chickies and the boys that drool over them. After opening a club by arriving at the way to early time of 9:30PM...we tried to adjust our ears and our voice volume to compensate for the pounding beat of the dance clubs. What did I learn about dance clubs of the 2009 era? There is no variety of beat. The key is to keep every single song on the exact same beat...if you can do that and vary the songs and artists, ok, but if not- no worries. Today's dance club patrons will tolerate "Pump it up" once every 20 minutes, no problem.

Having been dubbed the "quilting club table" by the comedian in the earlier comedy club activity...we definitely felt our age creeping up on us in this setting. Of course, seeing one 38 year old adventurous bridesmaid in her jeans and cotton t-shirt bump butts with some strangers in sparkly spandex on the dance floor when "I like big butts" came on was one hysterically funny highlight, but all in all, we felt a bit out of sync with the crowd.

It was suggested by someone in the group we head to another club that catered to the 35 and over crowd. Sounded good to us.

But within moments of arrival, I realized that this was even worse. While the other clubs had felt too young, there was still a sense of familiarity that reminded us of our younger exploits....this club was downright frightening. Women and men much much over 35 were gyrating to a mix of music that included the same dance tunes we had just left behind along with returns of Saturday Night Fever, Jackson 5 and a highlight - THRILLER - which seems to be spanning the generational divide. I stood with my mouth hanging open and my arms firmly clenched against my sides as severely aging disco kings and queens milled around me - many of the scary predator looking kings were checking us out with interest. We were, after all, the youngest in the room.

Now I know I'm a tight-ass. I know I'm a bit of a prude. I know I can be judgmental and like to climb on a soap box. I know I prefer a good book and a quiet night at home to an ear-splitting drunken binge night out. But I am telling you, that any one in their right mind would have been terrified in this space. Well...unless you are a sociologist studying the effects of high decibel music and too tight spandex outfits on the Baby Boomer generation. If you had this rare occupation, you'd be in heaven.

I observed one particular "babe" in the harsh lighting of the bathroom. While I waited my turn to go in, I watched her primp at the mirror. She wore a black clingy jersey dress that barely covered her upper thighs and had spaghetti straps at the shoulders. Her back was humped - from too many nights at a bar stool or a calcium/bone loss situation, I'm not sure which. She flipped her bleached (with Clorox?) blond hair over to fluff it and whipped it back, nearly toppling in her 5-inch spiked heels when she came upright. After reapplying the several inch thick make-up, she took off her bifocals and hid them in her rhinestone studded purse. As she turned I noticed that the lack of bra straps allowed for her breasts to swing free and low....what a mess.

She was later observed bellying up to the bar and a few fellows including a Don Johnson wanna be in a white linen suit with loafers, no socks, and a baby blue stretch t-shirt. Honest to god. If you wanted to make a movie about folks trapped in a time warp, this is the place.

So, if you want to observe this yourself, head on over to Taylor's on Monroe Avenue in Rochester NY. It is truly the land of the aging disco queens. And if you are frightened by what you see, don't say I didn't warn you.

The Pace Quickens...and the Bride Awaits

I returned to work today and within 30 minutes, while I was still smiling and tan, I definitely was back in the grind. The difference is, after a good 10-day break off the grid (I didn't even check my email or voice mail once!) I felt much more patient and prepped. Even when I learned that my meeting on Wednesday was moved from my home office to one downtown in Manhattan (ugh), I calmly checked train schedules and made my plan and didn't really sweat it.

Tomorrow is the 2nd day of my 2 day week before I head off to play MOH (matron of honor) for my cousin's bridal shower and bachelorette party. (ugh x 10). Don't get me wrong. I LOVE my cuz...but I really am too old for this crap.

Tonight I was spending my commute home checking in with bride, bridesmaids, and best man. Bride was excitedly telling me how she is looking forward to this weekend, anticipating getting her dress fitted, still searching for the perfect shoes, and working hard to collect all the photos she needs so I can put a compilation video file together for the reception. The best man offered what help he could with shower (it's a jack and jill at bride's request) and I assured him showing up and writing a nice check was help enough. And the bridesmaid told me a hilarious story about going in to try on her dress and having the seemingly teenage bride at the next mirror say, "Oh my - you look so pretty in that dress - are you the MOTHER OF THE BRIDE???" The bridesmaid then told me, "Ok, so I know I'm a little older and a little heavier, and ok, maybe a little greyer, but Mother of the Bride? I could have broken that little teeny-bopper in two for that comment!" (I told you we were too old for this crap.) Our mantra has been, "If it were anyone but Suzie we'd never...."

In typical Wenderina anxiety mode, I'm wondering if my big brother (the one I'm NOT on speaking terms with) will show this weekend and what kind of uncomfortable scene I can anticipate. 99% of the time I am so happy with my decision to remove his drama from my life...it is only this 1% of the time when I wish I was still playing the act of the loving sister to his craziness just to get through the family event. I'm sure I would still approach the interaction with some dread, but maybe a little less anxiety over what might be in store.

Thank goodness the entire event is only 3 hours...at least Part 1. Part 2 is the evening out with the bachelorette. Since 4 out of 4 bridesmaids will not be drinking that night (1 pregnancy, 1 definitive non-drinker, 2 designated drivers) should be a pretty sober evening. We're starting with a comedy club which will hopefully lighten the mood. We're ending (hopefully not in the wee hours) with dancing....so not my thing.

Could I be much more negative do you think? God, what a needy whiney bitch I can be. I just got back from a fabulous vacation, I have only a two-day work week, and my complaint is that I have to party with friends and family this weekend? I need an attitude adjustment for sure.

Spiked bridal shower punch anyone?

Already Planning Next Year

So we're back home again and already thinking about next year's trip to the Cape. We loved the new house and location in East Dennis right next to Sesuit Harbor. Tropical Storm Danny took a few hours off our week in the sun, but also blew off the coast quickly and took all the dreary clouds with it. We had what most locals agreed was the best weather week of the summer.

We spent the first day tackling a jigsaw puzzle all together and I was happy to say that while I did go to bed at midnight while the crazy Coach stayed up until 3AM determined to get it done, I was there for the start and I was there for the last piece being placed. And FYI, it wasn't done at 3AM by Coach it was done with a team effort at about 12 Noon on Sunday.

I didn't take nearly as many photos this year...it just all seemed too relaxed and perfect and who wants to be hiding behind a camera instead of joining in the fun? But there were a few moments I captured of week and some of the beauty we observed.

Coach - King of the S'mores.

Deserted beach tools

Loved this worker's truck full of rusty and well used tools.

The requisite sunset shot.

And just before we left, I was checking the camera and managed to capture this shot. It looked like my kitty had overdosed on drugs in anticipation of our departure. Luckily, she thought better of it. We're looking into feline therapy for her.

Back to work in the morning....and then the bridal shower and bachelorette this weekend...woo hoo (read my total lack of enthusiasm in both of these agenda items...)

Recycle Post (O8/07): Sailing

Today we joined our Windy Gulch landlord in a sail across the bay. He is an experienced sailor, but we are not, so we trusted in his ability to give direction.

When we got to the boat, I began to learn a little more about Mr. S. and his penchant for cheap fixes. (I already had a bit of a feel for this in the shack). He showed me how he had taken the plastic tops from a non-dairy creamer and a cool whip container to create watertight covers for his gauges. "why pay $100 for this when I can add a little duct tape and caulk and use something for free??"

So, my trust was wavering a little - was this boat held together with duct tape and caulk?

Our first attempt was aborted by a lack of wind, but the 2nd day we had luck with a lovely gusting northerly wind that pushed and pulled us across the bay. Some of the gusts felt like we could tip over, and I had another moment's pause when our captain went below and put on a life vest...but didn't offer us any...but the adventure turned out to be a highlight of our week.

Afterwards we enjoyed cocktails and snacks with Mr. and Mrs. S. on the bench that overlooks the beachwalk back at Windy Gulch and we were reminded why despite all its faults, we continue to return to Windy Gulch each year.

Recycle Post (08/08): Card Sharks

One of our favorite things at the Cape is playing cards. In the past, it's been adult time - after kids are safely ensconced in front of TV/video, or dozing in their beds we break out the deck and play King Rummy, or Hearts, and rarely Poker. But this year the games of choice seemed to be driven by the 7-year old cutey of our group and we were all about Crazy 8's...and of course...the age old favorite - Old Maid.

It's all about the shuffle you know.

And sometimes you need a little help with sorting the cards, and Daddy's there to cheat...I mean help.

Only two players..."I don't have the old maid...I wonder who does Aunt Wenderina?"


The matches are piling up...

And in the end...someone has to be the old maid.

Don't let that face fool you...she was a good sport...as long as we were willing to play again.

Shuffle up and deal.

Recycle Post (8/08): Wordless Wednesday

These images are from our base in Sandwich MA...our Cape Cod location of 2008...I'm scouting new photos this year and can't wait to post them when we return...until then, enjoy this re-visit of last year's images....

Recycle Post (08/08): We're On Our Way to the Perfect World

This is the phrase Hubby sings in a childlike cartoon voice every year as we head to our annual vacation on Cape Cod. He swears it is sourced from some Hanna Barbera moment with all the characters on some kind of flying ark running around the world on a mission to save the environment. Seems to stir vague memories for me...but I'm not always sure with him.

But I must agree with the sentiment...whether it is the fact that we are on vacation from our stressful work lives, or that we are traveling with some of our best friends in the world, or that we are heading to a place where the light is crystal clear and blue-gold, and the sea is within earshot from every window, or that sun, salt, sand are all washed away in an outdoor shower as the cool sea breeze ripples across your skin. Or maybe it is all of the above. It's time for us to return to the Cape...not just any Cape, but THE Cape - Cape Cod, MA.

This is our 7th year at the Cape with our friends, the 3rd year with the addition of Lula - our favorite Chicagoland resident - but our first in a new house. We decided the ants, mice, and other detrimental factors of our old beach house rental were getting to be too much to take for the money we spent.

As always, you have trade-offs. Our friends got a king-size bed (rather than the twin cots they used to have), but it is in an open loft above the kitchen...which makes for a difficult early morning for them when early risers want coffee. The beach is only steps away - with a much shorter staircase - but it is rocky and tough on the feet. The house is pristine, clean, comfortable, beautiful, but has 6 houses surrounding it within chatting distance and people walk by our windows all day and night in access to the beach.

So - we are doing what any modern professionals would do (jokingly), we're building a spreadsheet of pros and cons, and looking for the perfect house for our perfect world.

In the meantime, we're having fun, as you can see:

If you've got a rocky beach, make rock sculptures...

Making the most of a beautiful bright kitchen.

Close-set houses? We call it a courtyard. Great for sharing a snack with friends.

And kids need so very little to be happy as clams...with clams...

And there's always those quaint shopping locales that give you
as much occasion to photograph as to buy.

And it is only Day Two.

The Perfect World Indeed!

Recycle Post (08/07): No Signs of Rain

In 2007 I created a compilation of photos to the song "No Signs of Rain" as a wish for all of our Cape Cod Vacations...this year we expect Tropical Storm Danny to bring some wet the first couple of days....but no signs of rain in our hearts!

Recycle Post (9/07): Mouse in the House

Yesterday all of our friends said goodbye to the Cape and left my husband and I on our own in the Windy Gulch beach shack. We experienced a short period of empty nest syndrome, but soon settled into our own routine. Because we were only 2, we moved over to the attached "cottage" (a.k.a. converted garage) where in our first week LH had stayed and had successfully survived having a mousetrap bring a close to the life and career of a small field mouse who had taken up residence.

We had been in the cottage approximately 8 hours and I had given up on any hope of sleep in the torture chamber described in the Windy Gulch property brochure as spacious and airy bedroom. I moved out to the main room which consists of kitchenette, table/chairs, love seat and two twin beds. Lo and behold a small visitor skittered around the edge of the room and then disappeared into a small cupboard in the corner. Hmmm...I know we had emptied the trap of our furry friend...so this either a spirit siting or a relative.

The next morning, as I sipped my juice and watched the rolling surf from the adjacent deck, said Mouse once again made himself known, slowly zig-zagging across the wooden slats seeking a dropped crumb here and there. Whether it was the peace of the ocean surf or the resignation of a beach shack dweller finally accepting my surroundings, in my mind the phrase arose....The Mouse is Dead...Long Live the Mouse.

Recycle Post (8/07): Was That a Tsunami?

While on our annual vacation in Cape Cod...I scheduled a few favorite Cape Cod posts. My attempt to recycle some content...enjoy!
---

Yesterday we left our safe little harbor (Cape Cod Bay) and decided to take on the mighty Atlantic. Our thought was at ages 6 and 13 the kids could, and wanted to, handle a little extra excitement.

Fast forward through the packing the car ordeal, paying $20 for parking and schlepping across the public beach for a 4x4 square of sand. (You see the one great thing about the Windy Gulch shack is the private beach location on quiet bay).

We edged into the bone chilling water and squealed along with the kids at the pounding surf and undertow action. Thrilling, right? Well little 6-year old C wanted badly to try her boogie board in the surf. Aunt Wenderina was up for the challenge of showing her how it was done...almost.

I caught a wave that I swear was the size and speed of a tsunami. At the crest I looked down...way down...and as my mouth opened and an unholy scream squealed out, I thought this will not end well for me.

A few crashing waves and sandburns later my loving hubby rushed to my rescue sure I was going under for good.

I feel a little like Dorothy - no need to search farther than your own backyard for happiness. Lesson learned. Never wander away from a perfectly happy little place...at least not without scuba gear.

Happy Birthday Baby

Today my dearest love turns 43. I met him when he was 19, we married when he was 23, and this October we celebrate 20 years of married life. Hard to believe how fast the time goes. But it doesn't matter what the numbers say, he is a child at heart. And he keeps me young(ish). I give credit to his artistic soul.

For the first time in eight years we are home for his birthday...normally we are on the Cape, his favorite place. Tomorrow we leave and I know he is counting the hours. While we are gone, we are promising to disconnect from email, internet (including our blogs, his facebook, and all other webbish things), cell phone (except for emergencies), and all. I'm not giving up my iPod, but all other electronics are unwelcome for the next 7 days. If I've set it up right, there will be scheduled posts over the next few weeks, re-treads of older posts about vacations, the Cape, etc.

Enjoy...and see you in a week.

Pre-Vacation Rituals

For some reason, before I take vacation at the end of summer, I feel the compulsion to clear/clean my desk, route my files, dust and wash old mugs, etc. Subsequently, my departure from the office on the last day is a bit manic, crazed, and much too complicated.

It starts simply enough. I start to worry about how this ENTIRE PLACE will fall apart without me (yes, delusions of grandeur for sure). Then I think I need to summarize my current work in a memo with all my files totally organized and sorted and delegate out the responsibility. Then I send many, many, many emails to everyone and their brother notifying them of my departure. But the death knell comes when I attempt to put in my briefcase the few "must do" items before vacation. Inevitably something is hard to find and with every piece of paper I have to pick up, dig out, and move, I get increasingly frustrated. So I start to clean, and sort, and purge, and file.




Several hours later, I realize how much crap I accumulate and how much dust each piece of crap has accumulated. It really is astonishing how we fill up our space, our lives, our minds with so much unnecessary clutter.

But I do love a good purge -- whether it is closets at home, or my cluttered cubicle at work. And the big benefit is I return to a much cleaner space.

So now, you've seen the "before" pictures. But for the "after" shots you'll have to wait until my return. The camera is locked in someone else's desk and I need to get home and get some pre-vacation sleep.

Beware Strangers Bearing Gifts

In the past two days I've been surprised to arrive home and find "gifts". Little boxes of things that I did not order that came without charge to me....or so I thought.

The first was a small sample product of skincare. Did my cousin - who works in the industry - put me on a list? Did I somehow get a free gift with purchase? Who gives things away like this? I dropped the samples on the counter and didn't think anything else about it.

The next day, a bigger box arrived and I opened it to find software for starting an internet business...hmmmm...I definitely didn't order this? Where is this stuff coming from?

I looked more closely at the invoice of the beauty products and found while the items were free, they charged me shipping. Then I read through the software agreement and found that even accessing their website could be seen as activating my account.

Hubby and I checked the internet and found both companies had complaints against them for "aggressive marketing". Then we checked our accounts and realized we had three unauthorized charges. Now, while those charges only amounted to about $23.00 in total, it's always annoying at the least, and alarming at the most, to see someone accessing your funds. We were also puzzled by the fact that my nickname was on the invoice and shipping labels, but our accounts all have my formal name? How did they get the nickname?

Our first call this morning was to the bank to cancel our debit card. Not tremendously convenient to have to do that 3 days before vacation, but we needed to nip it in the bud. Then I began calling the phone numbers on our debit statement.

Call #1: They wanted my phone number. I refused to give it. They insisted they could not look up the account without it. I said, I'll give you my name (rank, serial number), but not phone number. They settled for zip code and found the account. (The rep then snottily read off my phone number to me as if to say, Nah Nah, even though you wouldn't give it to me I have it hear anyway...bitch.)

They informed me that I had accepted an offer from "Platinum Rewards" on a phone call to my office number (aha! the nickname source becomes clear, as I always answer my desk phone with my name) that afforded me a free gas card or wal-mart gift card if I said ok to trying three products. (Note - I had three strange charges on my account). I insisted I had NEVER said yes to those offers. I typically refuse....and sometimes just hang up mid-offer. They said they would cancel my account, investigate the offer and have a recording of the call pulled. You can bet your ass I'm calling back in 10 days to hear that recording.

Call #2: A recording that their system is down, please call back later. And believe me I will.

Call #3: I don't even know what this company was, but they told me I had signed up for two service accounts. No I didn't. Yes you did. No, I really didn't. Yes you did. No, I'm telling you I didn't. Apparently they have a record that I received a call and accepted the offer. Nope, said I. Yes, said they. Ok, I said, there is such a thing as human error and there is such a thing as fraud. You take your pick, but I did NOT accept this offer. It's not human error and it's not fraud, was the retort. Well, then, I want to hear a recording of the call. (moment of silence). That won't be necessary, we'll credit your account. Victory. All for $4.95.

At this point my blood pressure feels like it is through the roof. But I feel a small sense of justice that I didn't just blow off the $23.00 but went after it like it was my LAST $23.00. And so, dear reader, my advice to you is beware of strangers bearing gifts. Stick to your guns, no matter how small the offense (or dollar amount). And kick some scamming butt.

Best of Intentions

I saw this post today at Chick's site and of course it made me sad. It also reminded me of something that happened many years ago.

I had a friend (we'll call her Kay) who desperately wanted children. Kay was so happy when she became pregnant shortly after she and her husband began trying. One day, when she was about six months along, the four of us were to have a couple's night out and go see Harry Connick in concert. Hubby and I received a call shortly before the concert that Kay wasn't feeling well and they had decided to skip the concert.

The next day I learned that she had lost the baby. Because of her advanced pregnancy, they had to induce labor and she had to deliver the baby. She and her husband were devastated. They named the baby (a boy) and in jewish tradition, buried him immediately. It was awful.

Another friend of ours (we'll call her Ella) wanted so desperately to find some way to reach out to Kay and her husband, to express her sorrow and to bring them comfort.

She...and I still cannot believe this....sent a balloon bouquet.

[pause for reaction]

I learned about it after the delivery was set and I so wanted to find a way to stop it and to explain to Ella what a huge mistake she had made.

Kay's husband was shocked to see a balloon bouquet appear at the door, where they were mourning. "WTF was she thinking!!!" Kay told me he shouted.

Then Kay's husband took a pair of scissors and proceeded to stab, pop, shred and destroy all of the balloons in a fury. When it was done, he was out of breath and quiet. After a moment, he turned to Kay and said, "I know I couldn't believe she did this, but her intentions were good, and actually, destroying those balloons is the best I've felt all week..."

So it goes to show, that even the most awkward and misplaced of gestures can be well-received by someone in pain when they know you bring the words or actions from the deepest part of your heart, where you are aching on their behalf and just want them to know they are not alone.

Rainy Days and Mondays

But then clear and sunny! (Fingers crossed)

T-5 days and Counting

Every summer, we return to our favorite place - Cape Cod, with some of our favorite friends - and have a waterfront vacation. This will be our 8th year in a row. For the most part, it has been a smooth ride. A few bumps here and there (I revolted last year and demanded we switch houses after I had reached my ant/mouse/filth limit with the old place), but all in all, it's a good time.

We are currently in the countdown period which we fill with shopping lists (I'm bringing the ketchup and mustard, you bring the bbq sauce...etc.), packing lists (how many suits are you bringing this year? are your beach chairs in good shape?) and of course, weather forecasts. We start with the extended 15 day outlook which usually has little resemblance to actual weather that far out. Today we're looking at the 10-day. It's been slowly improving (Hurricane Bill was a worry). You see, after one particularly bad weather year at the Cape we determined packing five adults, a teenager and a child together into one tiny house was not a good combination if there is no sunny beach to run to. Hubby #2 and I have a pact that if it sucks that bad, we're heading home...we'll leave the rest of the crew there.

While we return to the Cape every year, we've begun to shake it up a bit with the actual rental address. After 6 years at the same place (great Location, not so great accommodations) we selected a new site in 2008. The house was beautiful, well maintained, smelled good, and had no pest issues....believe me a BIG step up in addressing my pet peeves. But had some shortfalls in other issues in layout, privacy, and beach quality. So, onward and upward - we'll try this next address and see what we think.

2009 Cape Rental:

Hubby is VERY ready to go. In fact about two weeks ago he put up a sign on our kitchen door so that every day as we leave, he can cross out the number of days and subtract one. I can't decide if it is normal vacation desire, or the fact that this year Hubby has pieces in a current gallery show at the Cape Cod Art Association. I think he's feeling like a real artist with this acceptance. Of course, I've known it all along.

So T-5 days...can't wait!

Dress Drama

"I wish you were here!!!!" was the wail I got when I answered the phone on Saturday.

"I am going insane trying to pick out this damn dress. Why, oh why did I want another wedding ceremony? Why didn't I elope and take the money and run??? Why Wenderina Why???"

Yup. You guessed it. Bridal meltdown.

I am the MOH in my cousin's wedding (her 2nd and I believe her last...either way) and after months of talking about stuff and thinking how much easier it is to do this the 2nd time after you learned what you DID NOT want to do from the first, we realize...we were totally fooling ourselves.

We still had to get a bunch of different size, different type, different opinioned women, and teenage girls (yeah...that wasn't too tough) to agree on dresses. Of course, after we all agreed, one of the ADULTS in the ceremony actually revolted and "requested" that she be able to buy a different dress in the same color. After I calmed the bride down from her homicidal temper (Does she remember what she made me wear? a strapless gown with my hair in an updo and my nails in a french manicure? I am a G-cup - strapless??? I have 16 lbs of hair - in an updo?? and I HATE french manicures....I never said BOO!) the rebel was allowed her dress and one of the other bridesmaids was also given leave to change hers as well.

Then came time to plan the shower. I asked each member of the bridal party to think about planning on $200/person for the cost of the shower (60 people to come) and we would also include the gift in that. End result: panic! They are all hurting for money. So, we cut it in half. Hopefully we can make it all work for that.

Let's not forget the men in this scenario. First, the groom is barely speaking to his three brothers right now and yet they are all in the wedding party. Then, the men are not happy that they are included in the whole shower fiasco. I keep trying to bill it as a picnic/party, but they aren't buying it at all. No alcohol is planned for the shower....I'm thinking this could be an issue.

Now the bride (having gone from a G to a C thanks to surgery, and down 30 pounds) is shopping for her dress. Did I mention the wedding is less than two months away? And she isn't happy. Not one bit. About the choices she is finding.

So after three phone calls yesterday and one today, some scrambling on the internet to try and see what she has tried on (since despite my begging she didn't take any pictures) I think she's closing in on a choice.

There is a reason that Lifetime has a couple of shows about this - Bridezilla and Say Yes to the Dress - there really is drama in the whole process.

God save me from EVER doing this again.

Still Going...

Like the energizer bunny (but maybe with a few more stops, starts, and writer's block), I've been going at this blog thing for 2 years now. I often wonder who is out there reading this (if anyone), and what they might think of my random little life moments. But no matter, lurk, de-lurk...I started this for me and continue it for the same reason. It's an outlet, an interest, and a hobby that takes me away from my regular daily grind and forces me to take a look at my life from an outside angle at least a couple times a week.

Let's see if I can make it another year...next blogoversary in 2010...hard to fathom, but time marches on.

Random Letters to the Universe

Dear Employee:

Please do not leave me a voice mail, an email, and an instant message all within 30 seconds with the message, "Please give me a call when you get a chance." Pick one medium and stick with it. I'll get back to you.

And? When I call you? Please don't use the time to whiningly defend why you couldn't do your job right. It does not improve your situation.

Tick tock. Tick tock. Hear that? It's your career dissipation clock and it's about to explode.

Your Boss,
Wenderina
---

Dear Bagel Shop:

You are wiley bastards. Not only have you figured out a cattle herding space plan that allows for 52 people in line in your 10x20 store space, but you have also lined that maze with every conceivable pre-packaged treat imaginable. I see exactly what you are doing, and yet I am helpless to resist, and must reach out and grab the muffin sample tray, the candied fruit, and the gourmet bagel spreads.

You should teach a class in successful marketing for a down economy.

In respectful awe,
Wenderina
---

Dear Al Gore:
I'm trying, I'm really trying. But this heat is a killer so my A/C will be running all day until it stops.

So sorry. Hopefully the fluorescent bulbs in every light in my house offset it a little.

It ain't easy being green,
Wenderina
---

Dear Calendar,

While I hate to wish my life away, please please please hurry to August 29th. I must get out of this office and find the beach right now.

Anticipating the Cape,
Wenderina
---

Dear Penny Kitty,

You are a potato head. At first I thought you were just batting the potatos off the counter and rolling them around, but since we found one on the 2nd! floor this week and you have now been observed carrying one around in your mouth, I'm convinced. You are truly insane.

And thanks for beating up those home grown tomatoes that were ripening on the window sill. God forbid that we got to eat anything so healthy and organic. You really saved us there.

Marley's got nothing on my kitty,
Wenderina
---

Dear Yaz Kitty,

There is no need to take after your young crazy partner in annoying me. I heard you meowing at me at 5AM even before you stuck your paw in my water glass and shook it in my face. Good thing you are cute or you might be out on your sweet little furry ass.

Sleepless in Suffern,
Wenderina

(Not so) Skinny Dipping

Last night was the night I wait for all summer. The perfect blending of hot summer night, warmed pool water, and a quiet neighborhood. At midnight I stealthily exited my kitchen door and was pleasantly greeted by that night air so heavy you can cut it with a knife. I dipped my toe in the water and checked the temp...finally...after hovering around 70 for most of the season, a few hot days and nights in a row had raised it to about 78 degrees. With the air temp still hovering at about 85 it was the perfect difference to be refreshing and relaxing.

My nightgown hit the ground with a soft swish and I stepped into the pool. Gliding back and forth, the silence was only broken by the lapping water and the crickets call. All around me the fireflies were dancing and their glow was intensified by the darkened cloudy sky, providing the only light source except what softly spilled out from our windows.

I glanced over to the kitchen door and saw both cats silhouetted with their heads swiveling back and forth like a slow motion crowd shot at Wimbledon, watching me as I swam slow laps.

Everything was perfect.











Until I reached for a towel and realized I had none.

Kitty Potato Head

We continue to adjust to our new cats and their quirks. My pick of the litter - Yaz - is the sweetest best kitty. She even let me cut her nails this weekend. She has her own stuff, of course, like any self-respecting female....but I get her.

Penny, on the other hand continues to astound and confound me. She enjoys chasing her tail in circles while I clean up the kitchen. She literally twist in a circle trying to bite her tail until she falls down exhausted. After catching her breath, she's up and spinning again.

Just being a kitten right? Just a little adolescent nonsense, you say. Insanity I fear.

Today, I came home and spied what looked like a large rock in the middle of the living room floor.

After cautiously creeping up on it - I couldn't believe my eyes. Can you tell what this is? Can you guess what large rock-like object Penny had stolen from a bowl on the counter to play with? It's pretty obvious from the title I know.

What am I going to do with this cat?

Separate but Equal

This post is not about what you think it is about. This is about one day. One day in a solid and happy marriage. Specifically it is about this Saturday in my marriage.

When we awoke on Saturday we saw, an unusual thing stretched before us. A found day. Yes there were errands to run. Yes, blackberries needed to be monitored. But the sun was shining. Work needs were less than anticipated. And we had no real obligations except to our own purposes. We sat eating breakfast and thought about what we wanted to do for the day.

Hubby was keen on finding a cave called the Stone Church and photographing it. Wenderina was focused on finalizing her bridesmaid duties by ordering dress, slip, sash, shoes, and then checking out some end of summer sales for seasonal clothing.

We went our separate ways and promised that the first one headed home would take care of picking up groceries for dinner.

For a day spent completely separated - by 10AM we were both on our way in opposite directions - I felt very in tune with Hubby. It was a cheerful and relaxing day for both of us. By mid afternoon we figured out I was closest to grocery store so I took that on. Hubby arrived home after 5:30 and took on the cooking duties while I lounged by the pool. We sat down for dinner and talked about our day and it was lovely.

I thought about how the day might have gone if one or the other of us had been dragged into the agenda of our spouse for the sake of spending some found time together. I doubt it would have ended so well. So even though we spent many hours apart, we were equal in our enjoyment and in sync with one another.

I accomplished my goals - the dress and duties are done. Hubby accomplished his (check out his photos!). And in the end we came together to share the happy results of our day. Sometimes separate but equal works.

More Shoe Stuff

You doubted my story, I know you did...but the proof is right here in this photo! Since my boots went the way of used kitty litter (literally), I'm now trying to find out where the "worn once" pair this visiting dignitary has on are hiding in our office.

Baby needs a new pair of shoes.

Put on Your Red Hat

A friend introduced me to a new restaurant which is destined to become a favorite location for me. It's pricey...of course...but unlike many waterfront restaurants, it doesn't rely upon its river view but stands on its own merits. I'm speaking of the Red Hat Bistro in Irvington-on-Hudson, NY.

It was a Monday night and about 95 degrees in the shade at 6PM and yet the restaurant's main room and bar were packed. I soon realized why - the service, the food, the ambience, and the jazz trio were exquisite. Put all together with a nice dinner out with a good "new" friend, and it couldn't have been a better night.

I enjoyed a house special (fresh squeezed) Cosmopolitan. So Yummy. Then decided on a meal made up of two separate appetizers. A simple spinach and endive salad with sliced pears and a crabcake. Simply delicious. In between courses, perhaps because my dining companion knew the owner and used to have her own restaurant, we got little mini samplers of appetizers. The asparagus and prosciutto was spectacular and I don't even like asparagus or prosciutto! Together they were a perfect blend of flavor and so so so...well...yummy. At the end of the meal we split the profiteroles and enjoyed a cup of tea and watched the thunderstorm work its way down the Hudson River. Great show through the large floor to vaulted ceiling windows overlooking the waterfront and the Tappan Zee bridge.

I simply can't say enough about this great restaurant. If any of you are within driving distance - I highly recommend you take some respite here - even if only for a drink on their rooftop bar at sunset. Quite the show that mother nature puts on, when you bother to set the theater up just right for her.

In the words of Julia Child, so much in my mind these days, "Bon Appetit!"

Julie and Julia

Ok. I don't know where I was when the Julie/Julia Project blog was birthed and gave life to a writer's career for Julie Powell, and I don't know where I was when the blog grew into a best selling book. But the movie finally woke me up.

Previews for the movie got me interested in the story and I found myself at the bookstore and couldn't resist picking up a copy of the book. Like most blogs (and most books that come from blogs) it was unrelentingly self-absorbed. Duh. I mean we are writing about ourselves for the most part, unless we get lucky enough to get paid to write about something else that people want our opinion on. But there was something in the way Julie Powell acknowledged her self-absorption (and tendency toward hysterics) that helped you get past it.

I blew through the book in about 4 days (even with the hordes of relatives visiting my house...okay so it was only 4 adults and a 2-1/2 year old, but you know, that fills my house to the brim) and I really enjoyed it. I was particularly touched by the honest way she portrayed her relationship with her mother - far from a major part of the book, but it resonated with me. Acknowledging the stressors between the two women, but appreciating that nagging comes from caring (regardless of how it is delivered), advice comes from love (regardless of if it is wanted), and in the end, if you can step back a moment, you can admire the woman who is your mother/daughter and be thankful of what she has brought to your life.

The relationship Julie has made with her own mind's construction of Julia Child is kind of like a mother/daughter model as well. Julia Child represents some kind of guiding light to her through her life's choices and her cooking. The moments in the book when Julie feels she cannot live up to the expectations of her role model, and also when these shaky character constructions come tumbling down, are some of the most poignant.

We all, as bloggers, even if we don't have the INTENT to be writers, still must admit to the smallest of hopes that we might be discovered for our talent and whisked out of our hum-drum every day existence. We feel we are putting ourselves out there and we just know, even if we're only getting a few comments a day those commenters represent dozens or maybe hundreds of non-commenting lurkers. Julie Powell is living our non-specific and ill-pursued dream. From dead-end job to literary giant. From obscurity to fame. From sad, depressed, self-obsessed blogger to entertaining, witty, self-supporting author.

As I sat in the movie theater watching Amy Adams play the role I wondered what Julie Powell must have thought on her first viewing. It must have been a totally surreal experience. Is she prepared, I wondered, to become the "Julia Child" to someone else's Julie Powell existence? It must certainly be a side effect of her transformation that those (we?) frustrated self-indulgent bloggers will now see her as the model for their (our?) own escape. But the odds are against them (ok, us!). I mean, really, we need to face the truth. There is probably less chance of a discovered and sustained success story for a blogger/writer than there is of winning the lottery!

In the meantime, we continue to search for meaning in our writing, for models and examples of other more exciting lives, and for escape. I just hope, in the meantime, we remember that Julia Child and Julie Powell certainly had their own challenges in life, and while they may have risen to fame through their cooking and their writing, they aren't really so different from us. They likely had/have disappointments, frustrations, fractured dreams, and unfulfilled wishes. And wanting to be them - in their most bright and famous moments, could make us forget how good it actually is to be just who we are - blogging here - self indulgently - every day.

Moms' Birthdays

Yes - that's right, it's not a typo - I meant Moms to be plural. Both Hubby and I have mothers with a birthday on August 5th. (Like it isn't enough to figure out how to fairly split holidays like Thanksgiving, Christmas and Mother's Day - we have to pay attention to August 5 as well.)

Luckily, neither Mom pulls us in one direction or another and my Mom in particular is happy to make the trek to our house each year so we can all celebrate together.

This year, Mom arrived the day before her birthday and we teased her unmercifully about the last night of her 60's. Yes, my Mom is now a septogenarian. I can only hope that when I am 70 that I am in as good a shape. What does this septogenarian talk about? She talks like a 40-something like me. She worries about her weight, she talks about meeting friends for weekend trips and dinner, she is meeting with contractors to get new windows and siding for her home. She wears clothes cuter and trendier than mine. Other than the fact that she still refused to get her ears pierced (some kind of phobia), she is pretty fearless and is talking about trying parasailing in Florida this winter.

My Mother in Law? She is like the smart and savvy IT person in your company who is always reading about some new gadget and figuring out how to make it work. She knows more about the latest electronic toys and tools than I do AND knows how to use it. Other than helping her in digging the hole, she has worked on her own and built, stocked, and cared for a complicated Koi pond in her backyard that is a showpiece and requires some significant engineering and horticultural skill to maintain. The woman can barely see out of one eye, yet she can paint a pretty watercolor and read blogs and internet content for hours.

Of course we do not always see eye to eye. Have you ever known children and parents who do? But I have to say, I won the lottery on having women to admire as my Mom and Mother in Law.

Two active, interesting, smart, savvy, ladies who raised a couple of great kids (if we do say so ourselves)...

Leakage

This morning I awoke to the return of two journalists who had been held in captivity in Korea for the past 4 months. While initially the coverage was like watching paint dry as the stewards carried luggage up and down the jetway stairs, when the two women emerged and embraced their families my eyes began to leak. And I felt like I wouldn't be able to stop it. Every time I dashed away an overspilling tear, more rushed in.

Are you familiar with this syndrome? Where something touches you - something so not of your own life, family, or situation - and you cannot stop the emotions flooding through you? I've always been a sucker for this. I think this first came to light during the movement of emotional commercials on TV. Remember the Kodak memories commercials? Or how about the Coke and a smile series where they sang, 'I'd like to teach the world to sing..." One of the worst was that damn Folger's commercial with the guy comes home from college and makes coffee surprising his family at Christmas. And did all of that really start with the old Indian crying over pollution? Any one of these can still start my own personal water works show.

I am THE person they make tearjerker movies for. No matter how bad the movie, if there is a dramatic turn that is meant to pull the heartstrings, they will find mine and the eyes will tear and not stop until I allow a full-blown cry.

Most people who know me in person wouldn't guess this.

Neurotic?
Yes.

A little manic?
Sometimes.

Cynical?
Probably.

Sappy?
No (I don't think...)

But I am.

I can curl up with a horrible romance novel or an Oprah book club pick (although mostly I bypass those because they are truly depressing, not just emotional), and be transported. Recently I picked up an audio book series by an author I like and realized in the first chapter it was about vampires. Not my usual fare at all. But there was romance, drama, time travel, and I was hooked. Soon I was tearing up as the sidekick was bitten by the vampire and had to suffer a horrible fate worse than death (blah blah blah blah blah...) I know - sounds awful doesn't it? I mean who gets dragged into these things?

Me...obviously.

So now you know the dirty little secret of this hard-nosed marketing professional workaholic English major. I seek trash in books, movies, tv, and even commercials - and I leak...a lot.

A woman and her shoes

Last week, one of the VPs came to us with an odd question.

"What size shoe do you ladies wear."

Boss Lady and I exchanged a look and then I said...

"Whyyyyy??" (severe elevation of tone at the end of that one word question)

Blushing, he replied, "Well, I have to take a woman from [Merger Company] to a site visit and safety rules require that she wear hard soled shoes. She didn't bring any with her and I was hoping you might wear the same size."

Men don't get women and shoes. They don't get the fact that most women would NEVER loan out their shoes. Even ugly hard sole hiking shoes. They are OUR SHOES you know?? Also - asking a woman her shoe size - unless she is a perfect sample size 7 or smaller is like asking her weight or her age. Who's f-ing business is that anyway???

But, ever helpful Wenderina took a breath and proclaimed proudly, "I'm a 9...well maybe a 9 1/2. Ok....mostly I'm a 10." (and not in a Bo Derek kind of way).

"Good - she's a 9...that should work...can you bring in some shoes."

Well now I'm boxed in. Boss Lady had raised eyebrows and I could hear her projecting into my mind - "You got yourself into this....you get yourself out."

Needless to say, I didn't get myself out of it. So I came home, dug out my hard-soled hiking boots and realized they were dusty and grimy. I cleaned them and since they were a little damp put them out in the sun to dry.

This was a fine plan, until I went to sleep Saturday night and awoke to a Monsoon on Sunday. I grabbed the shoes and dried them with a towel and left them to dry....again. By Monday morning - the day of delivery - they were still damp but I determined leaving them in the car on a hot sunny day would quickly finish the drying job.

I reported to the VP I had, in fact, managed to remember the shoes and we could transfer them to his car later that day.

(you just know there's a kicker to this story right....oops no pun intended)

When I went out to my car later that day I opened the door and WHOA NELLY...I was knocked over by a noxious odor. I opened the bag with the shoes and took one out - it seemed fine....then I took the other out....

HOLY CRAP....or HOLY PISS is more like it.

Something had pissed in my shoe.

I debated about how to get out of this rather embarrassing situation. I had already reported I brought the shoes in. So - honesty was the policy of choice.

After relating my story, VP said, "Um...ok...I guess I'm going to Payless."

Why didn't I suggest that in the beginning? I don't know. But since he got ME to bring in my shoes...I said, "Since she's only wearing them once, you can bring them in and I'll take them when she's done."

A woman and her shoes, you know?

Cooking Up a Storm

The title of this post was inspired by both today's horrific weather as well as two other timely media inputs to my life - the first the rapidly increasing commercials for Julie and Julia - which looks absolutely fabulous (thank you as always Ms. Streep) and the hilarious post today by the Matron over at Minnesota Matron.

Like the Matron, I was lucky enough to marry a man who cooks, and cooks well. Also like the Matron, I do not...not at all...or at the very least not at all well. When Hubby was doing the work/school thing and was rarely home, I was known to survive on several nights in a row of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, or maybe a can of Campbell's soup. Unlike Julie and Julia, I neither have the desire to learn to cook a different dish every day, nor do I savor good cooking enough to excel in eating or ordering it. I'm usually about the convenience. Is it in the house? Can it be cooked in 15 minutes or less? Do I know all the names of the ingredients? Can it be savored sitting on the couch in front of the tv or is a tablecloth required?

In fact, one of the toughest questions I face each day is Hubby's email at mid-afternoon.

Re: Checking in.
Hi Babe - how's your day going? Any thoughts on what you'd
like for dinner tonight?

Ugh.

Can you believe I married a man who is willing to not only cook whatever I ask for, but also stop at the store on the way home and get any missing ingredients he might need, and I dread answering the question of what I want to eat?

I'm resolved, after reading the Matron's post and catching some of the reflected inspiration of Julie and Julia, not to mention feeling after nearly 20 years of marriage, Hubby deserves a break, that I will start to study cook books.

Don't get excited.

I will not be cooking.

But the least I can do is improve my ordering, right?

Next time he asks the question? I'll be ready with a more inventive answer.

How about Pretzel-Crusted Chicken with Honey Mustard Sauce p. 146 in the Sandra Lee Semi-Homemade Cooking Made Light cookbook. A spinach salad would be a great starter or side with this. Dessert can be just some simple berries with a little vanilla ice cream.

Then maybe Citrus Snapper with Orange Relish (p. 126, same cookbook) and some wild rice and cucumber salad on the side. Dessert could be fresh orange sherbet.

Perhaps Grilled Chicken with Grapefruit Salsa (p. 144) and some skewered veggies with balsamic vinegar. Dessert can be vanilla pudding with a dash of whipped cream.

And yes, Pork and Pear Saute with Lemon Vodka sauce (p. 109 Five Star Recipes from Weight Watchers) would go very nicely with an old fashioned iceberg lettuce wedge salad. Dessert could be a lemon sorbet.

Take that Julia! It may not have the butter content you would advocate, but I'm salivating already. Hope Hubby's ready for the challenge!

You're Right, You're Right, I Know You're Right

Despite nearly 20 years of working with the same VP with whom I admittedly share a love-hate relationship, I am constantly learning the same lesson over and over again. That is, not to put the effort in (or worse request OTHERS to put the effort in) until I know exactly what VP wants or needs.

Yet again, it came down to about 36 hours before our deadline before VP's thoughts gelled on what he needed. This was after I vehemently defended his request when I recruited Amybow for help in herding the cats in our organization around VP's needs. I was confident I was on the same page with him. I was sure that even if we ended up in a slightly different end point, the essence of the research we were doing would be of value - for this assignment as well as others. I was adamant that Amybow stop questioning my direction and just get people moving.

I was wrong. Wrong. WRONG.

This morning VP arrived at 7:45AM bearing pastries for the start of our ALL DAY MEETING and walked into my cubicle and said, "This is what I want my presentation to be....X, Y, Z. "

"VP" I said, "Let me show you what we've done and what we've asked others to provide by tomorrow AM. Here it is as we discussed - A, B, C."

"That's all fine," insisted VP "but I want X, Y, Z."

At this point I began to get irritated (especially given the fact we would be in a meeting all day which is not conducive to producing deadline work)...but we moved into our meeting and I tried to ignore the feeling that Amybow had been right all along. At 2PM, after 6 hours of non-stop discussions in our meeting (unrelated to VP's pending assignment), VP shot me a panicked look and said, "We really need to work on my presentation". We ditched the meeting early with apologies and as we reviewed the presentation it was clear A, B, C was NOT acceptable to VP. As we progressed to outline X, Y, Z, I'm sure I became shrill, short, and not a little pissy. At one point VP put his head in his hands (and I believe he was counting to 10) when I said, "Would have been much better for everyone if we had this discussion last week when we started this."

Finally, as I cooled and he calmed, we started to laugh. More because of how irritated we had become at one another than at the task at hand - which is now annoyingly difficult for an imminent deadline. Snarky but humorous barbs were tossed back and forth to vent our frustration to one another in a healthier way. Sometimes the guy is like a really annoying older brother and I've already got my share of that.

As things settled out, I sought Amybow and proceeded to eat my words of yesterday. Today's mantra is: "You're right Amybow. You're right. I know you're right."

Mastering the Graceful Exit

I've discovered that I have a brief window in my day where I might make for the door and get the hell out. Unfortunately, it is never the right time to leave the office, but rather mid-afternoon, 3:30ish. This brief window usually does NOT occur when my work is done, but rather when my patience is short and I find I'm more likely to be seeking a vending machine break, a blogging distraction, or some other nonsense.

When my mind re-engages, usually after a very short time, I find the next time I look up is about 7PM. Hubby usually calls around 6-ish and we talk about dinner menu and timing, evening errands, tasks, and plans. But then that inability to master the graceful exit rears it's head again. No matter what time I say I'm leaving, I'm nearly always off by 30-60 minutes...or more! Just one more task, just one more email, just one more list update...and on and on.

After several of these occasions, Hubby gave up taking me at my word (and I gave up giving it) and requested I call at the point where I am shutting off my computer and packing up. Then, after a few occasions where I ended up chatting with another late working colleague on my way out (usually Boss Lady), we now have a standing agreement that I call as I'm getting into my car.

I've tried the Franklin Covey approach. Have you ever taken one of their time management classes? They start with the whole jar with rocks story - you know the one.

"A teacher has a jar and he fills it with large rocks. He asks his students, can I get anything more in this jar? The answer from his students - No! He then takes out a bag of pebbles and adds them to the jar, proving them wrong. He asks his students again, can I get anything more into this jar? The answer from his students - Definitely not! He then takes out a bag of sand and pours it into the jar. Again, he asks, can I get anything else in this jar? The answer from his students - Not possible for sure! He then takes out a pitcher of water and pours it into the jar. What is the lesson here?"

My answer to that little parable was - "You can always fit more in the jar!"

Obvious right? I'm so brilliant, right?



WRONG!

No, the real answer is, the big rocks represent the important things. And if you don't put them in FIRST you'll never get the important things done"

um..yeah...
I missed that.

So anyway, sometimes after my 3:30 break, there's still those big rocks (and some pebbles, sand and water) to deal with....but somehow, someday, some way I'll figure out how to master the graceful exit.

Hazy Days

Looking up the Bartles & Jaymes ad for my last post sure took me back. All the way back to my college years and the many hazy memories I have from overindulging in those two gentleman's brew (and anything else I could get my hands on).

I was a good girl 'til I got to college. Never drank, never smoked, never broke curfew, never had sex... in fact, playing "I never" (the old drinking game) with me in college was pretty boring because I couldn't say "I never did [fill in anything interesting]"!

Imagine my surprise when my first night of college I began my drinking career. My roommate, who was stunned I had not ever consumed an alcoholic beverage, offered to mix me something easy and light. Her version of easy and light? Two-thirds vodka, one-third Sprite. One glass of that firewater concoction and I was on my ass.

After that, she suggested Bartles and Jaymes - soda pop "with a kick" and those wine coolers became my drink of choice. We spent more time that first year trying to get drunk than we did any other endeavor, including classes. My first semester I made it work. My second? My grades dropped to such a level that I found myself on academic probation and changing my major. I've never regreted leaving Accounting behind for a Liberal Arts degree in English/Psychology, but I do regret the damage that semester did to my overal GPA.

Friends who have met me in the last 15 years don't believe I ever was a drinker. Nowadays, the once a month single cocktail is about all I consume. And if I'm driving - I rarely even have that. They don't believe that without vodka and cherry kool-aid I never would have had the gumption to hook up with my someday husband. They don't believe I ever made out with a guy on a dance floor and had no idea what his name was, all I knew was the nickname on the back of his football jersey (Thumper). They don't believe I regularly slept through my morning classes. They don't believe I have a letter in my "permanent record" that came from a druken water fight that started with water pistols and ended with garbage cans of water that created cascading waterfalls 3 floors down in the dorm.

They don't believe that one night, a couple of years out of college, that I drove home from a party severely impaired, realized I shouldn't be behind the wheel at all and started crying halfway home, and got out of the car and kissed the ground when I somehow arrived home safely. They don't believe that I would ever have been so out of it that I couldn't have figured out pulling over and sleeping it off was a possible solution. They just don't believe that I ever lost my footing, my judgment, my senses, and could have lost my life or someone else's in a drunken haze.

But I did. Yessir, Mr. Bartles & Mr. Jaymes, I surely did.

Thank You Again, For Your Support

I have to say, if you want to have a pity party, start with the blogging community. They are such a supportive, caring bunch...they are almost enablers. I have a small readership (or at least a small "commentership" so I'm appreciative of the comments I do get supporting me in my stressful, sick, or downtrodden moments, but if you review some of the other blogs it can get really overwhelming!

Over the past two years that I have been blogging and reading other blogs, I've noticed a trend of writing I can only call NEEDY. And I've begun to wonder if blogging is so popular because people who normally don't feel heard, appreciated, cared for, commiserated with, etc. have finally found a place where they can complain and wallow and get all the support they desire from an anonymous gang of like-thinkers.

Don't get me wrong! In this cold world, it sure is nice to know there are absolute strangers out there caring about my vertigo, my late work hours, my stress, my angst, my cats, and my hubby. It's hard to feel alone when kind people take the time to read your random thoughts and add an "atta girl" to your life.

But for those of you who may worry about me (MOM this means you!)...don't. Despite my battles with anxious moments, which have at times driven me to a sleepless night or two, or to seek some heartburn medication, I'm in pretty good shape. I'm coming to terms with actually being content with my life. And I continue to find a little wry humor in my mental and physical reactions to anxiety....I mean it is really ridiculous sometimes you know?

Why am I writing about this today? I had some lovely comments in my last post about my Dizzy Dame situation. What I thought was kind of funny and kooky and all, generated some sweet - "feel betters" and some concern from my Mom.

All I can say is, you all are the best. Really. And when I REALLY need you, I expect you all to be there. But for now...be assured I'm doing just fine. I'll try to keep the whining to a minimum...and if I do whine, try and find the humor in it. I'd rather you laugh AT me, than cry WITH me.

And in the immortal words of those wise sages, Bartles & Jaymes, "Thank you again, for your support."

Dizzy Dame

So for the past week I've been experiencing some light twinges of vertigo. Not like Hubby's bout a while ago where he was nauseated and unable to stand upright without help, but just that kind of "Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure" - "Whoa Dude..." kind of feeling. Drunk without the drink. A natural high. Dizzy dame syndrome.

Dr. thinks I have a sinus infection that has congested my ear. I'm on meds and trying to clear it up....but knowing it isn't likely anything serious just makes it something I have to sort out each day.

I wake up and sit up...carefully.

Then I move my head in a number of different directions, turning, tilting, nodding, shaking until I figure out my new trigger positions for the day. Usually it is a position that I can easily avoid to make walking, driving, working, all very safe. Today's position was a straight tip forward of the chin...low enough that it is only if I am looking upward at the computer screen with chin tilted down toward chest that it generates a reaction.

It's actually been kind of a trip. To be able to know the right position that triggers it and check it out every so often and feel the world tilt, just a little. Kind of cool. I guess it's the coolest because I can set it right again with a smooth position change.

I feel it will be coming to an end sometime soon. Every time I yawn my ears crack, so things are breaking up in there. Just a few more days to be a Dizzy Dame....legitimately at least.

Hey - no comments from the peanut gallery.

It's a Movie, not a Book

On Sunday we got out to see the latest Harry Potter movie. We do love the series (book and movies) but we were concerned about this movie because of all the negative fan comments

I'm happy to say, probably in no small part due to the low expectations we had going in, we were pleasantly surprised to enjoy it thoroughly! As for all of the complaining fans, of course it isn't like the book people! It's a movie! The book is 700 pages long! Take it for what it is and enjoy it and stop going on and on about missing characters and the fact that page 542, Paragraph 3, is not in the movie.

The film was beautiful - a great marriage of computer graphics and cinematography - it made the film. The quidditch match, the Weasley joke shop, the Hogwarts grounds and castle - fantastic. And while, as usual, it felt a little choppy hopping from scene to scene because there is little time for segues, the scenes themselves were mostly little jewels. Jim Broadbent was very good, particularly in the one scene at Hagrid's house.

I'll be going back to the book now that I've digested the movie - just to remind myself of what was missed, but not to complain about it. Looking forward to the last movie (I hear there will be two to try and capture more of the 800 pages...and no doubt double the money too).

When a Friend is Sad

I have a friend that came to me through Hubby. In many ways she is like a twin to me. Our likes and dislikes, the very near overlapping of our birthdays, our careers, our love of theatre and old things, our love for quiet artistic men (like my Hubby and hers), and our enjoyment of an occasional fruit juice and vodka concoction. Because of schedules and well, just life, we see each other rarely - a few times a year, maybe a little more. When we are together we laugh a lot. Because she is funny and quirky and sweet and smart and all those things that make a great friend. But my friend often suffers. My friend is often sad.

She has burdens that are both physical and emotional. She has scars. She has pain. She has troubles. She never lets it overcome her - at least not in my presence - but she suffers and we see it. And I struggle, because I like to solve problems and she has problems I cannot solve.

Last night we talked. We talked medicine and theory. We talked stress and economy. We talked of work and life. We talked of weather and food. We talked of houses and gardens and chores. We talked of travel and music. We talked about baby showers and bridal showers and family.

Her voice spoke lightly, but I heard the strain.

Tonight we are going, with our sweet artistic hubbies, to see a local photographer's slide show under the stars. We'll talk and laugh and enjoy the art together. We'll grab a bite and a drink at a nearby tavern afterwards. We'll part at the end and see each other again in a few weeks, or more likely months. And I won't really have been able to help her. And she won't really burden me with her troubles. But I'll feel her pain.

We'll part as always with a long, lingering embrace. And all I can hope is she'll feel my support.

New Mantra: I HATE PROCESS

So, our new merger partner is big on PROCESS. I recognize that a larger company (they have more than 14,000 worldwide, compared to our measly 1,800) needs to have standards of practice. In fact, given the fact that my job over the years has been more about constant reinventing of the wheel and starting from scratch than efficient decision-making, I've been a proponent of process. HOWEVER, there's process and there's PROCESS.


I spent more than 4 hours in the last two days with 6 people on conference calls to figure out our message to the marketplace. Correction, to figure out our recommendation to our Board of our message to the marketplace. By the end, we had created a weaker, undesigned version of a sample advertorial I did ALL BY MYSELF 5 weeks ago. This is not the efficiency I hoped to get from process.


Prudence stops me from saying much more. I mean even though my real name still doesn't link with this site or find me in a direct Google Search, there are enough pointers that I could be found by an internet savvy person.

This is all about growing pains, learning curves, and integration. This is all about understanding one another's businesses, methodologies, practicies. This is all about creating elbow room and new boundaries. This is all about PROCESS.

And did I mention my new mantra? Oh yeah, I HATE PROCESS.

Backseat Driving

Aha! So PROACTIVE is returning to favor in our little merger story. Yesterday, feeling admittedly a little forlorn and relegated to the back seat, I called my VP and said, "You know, we're missing the 'bounce' opportunity here." He asked me to explain, whereby I spent a good 20 minutes (keeping him from going to happy hour by the way) talking about how the attention span of the marketplace was short and that all our clients are hearing right now is the whisperings of our competitors. "We need to grab the spotlight and use this brief window to get our value message out there!" He agreed and took it to our CEO (who luckily retains some significant power in our merged organization).

Today, we were able to turn the tides. We shouted "We are being PROACTIVE!!" proudly and we're getting positive results. We have a meeting set with our new merger partner's head of marketing where we plan to slap him around a little. AND we were asked by the new Board of Directors to prepare a branding/advertising/communications plan for their meeting next week to make the most of the 'bounce'.

Just goes to show you (and Hubby will agree) I drive from the backseat too.

When Proactive is a Bad Word...

As we progress into our merger we are facing a 24 month integration period. I can't decide if that is a nice gradual pace for change....or just pure torture. It could be like ripping a band-aid off hair by hair...in the pubic area...

Let me preface the next bit (for those of you who are my colleagues...) by saying I still believe this is going to be a pretty cool end result and that 99.99% of the people I've met on the other side of the fence are pretty great.

Last week we met with the Integration leadership team. Where they used words like curious and proactive as if they were actually words like annoying or insane.

"We appreciate that your team has been so....PROACTIVE [read annoying]...in your activities so far. Now is the time for us to slow down as we make plans for our future."

"You certainly are a CURIOUS [read insane] bunch - the most CURIOUS [read really insane] group we've worked with so far."

When you are used to charting your own course, it's tough to give up the navigation...or to start having to call in to port every 5 minutes to get an ok. Things that used to be autonomous may likely require committee approvals now. While I freely admit, our company has needed some structure and discipline, bureacracy it already has...in spades.

So...the integration begins. And the first hairs are being yanked out today. Stay tuned.

Say It Ain't So...

At the end of the work day today, my VP came to Boss Lady's desk (where I had parked for an end of day recap) and said, "Well, it's done." He was speaking of course of THE MERGER. (Did you really think I would link you to the actual press release and tell you where I work?)

Anyway....

After saying this jubilantly, he high fived both BL and me and headed upstairs to pick up some paperwork he needed to sign.

BL and I sat quietly, still talking of some of the details of our events and communications that will finish out the week, while jointly absorbing the good, the bad, and the ugly from the first meeting we had held with the new integration team from the 'other' company.

After a few minutes, VP returned but with a little less bounce in his step. He came back to our huddle, grasping his papers, and said with a puzzled look, "I don't know...I almost feel like crying...or should I be celebrating?" BL quickly replied, "Celebrate! You worked hard for this."

Not long afterward, VP called me from his car. He was still in disbelief. Despite the fact that he and I have been working on this for more than a year, that we both believe it is the right choice for our firm, the reality feels...well...suddenly real.

Within moments of that call, BL stopped at my desk on her way out and told me that while writing an email to our integration manager, she had begun to cry. Suddenly she was feeling the evidence of the change in our fates. We are much smaller fish in a much larger pond now. We are no longer masters of our own domain - trusted to decide without questioning. We must report and wait for approvals that were never needed before. It is truly the end of an era.

Between us we have 65 years at this company. VP has 30, I have nearly 20 and BL has 15. We've grown up and grown old(er) in this place with these people. I believe a good percentage of these people will still be here at the end of the 2 year integration period...but undoubtedly some will not. And for those that remain, we may find ourselves working in different departments, different buildings, different states, different countries...

When I coached our CEO for his presentation to all staff tomorrow, I stressed, "At the end, please be sure to pause for BOTH REFLECTION AND CELEBRATION....we need to recognize our history before we jump into our future." I hope he heard me. Because watching those of us tonight who had known what was coming take what felt like a body blow from the actual final mind shift of the deal closing gives me just a small glimpse of where 1783 people will be tomorrow.

And, despite our best intentions, I don't think the barbecued ribs and lemonade in the parking lot or the day-glo orange beanie baby lizards (the new company logo), are really going to help. In fact, I predict some nasty things in the future for those lizards. They just scream voodoo doll.

Living Up to My Reputation

Remember that great ad campaign?

Egg.
This is your brain.

Frying Pan.
This is drugs.

Cracked Egg in Frying Pan sizzling away.
This is your brain on drugs.

Substitute "Job" for drugs and you've got my brain of late. It's a damn good think my parents filled up my being with lots of common sense, intuition, and guts because that's what I'm operating on right now. The synapse firing part of my brain?

Shot.To.Hell.

So what might drive fear into my soul the most right now? A request by Mrs. G. to write for her world renowned website - the Women's Colony.

Her actual request to me:
"mrs. g. here. would you consider writing about your experiences in the working world..being a strong woman who makes her own way. Think about it. Many readers have expressed an interest in this kind of story, advice. Thank you, W"

A strong woman who makes her own way!

I think Mrs. G. just wrote my epitaph. Or perhaps she wrote the title of a highly fictionalized autobiography. Depends on the day I guess.

Wenderina is putting on her thinking cap. Twisting her mind to speak in the third person as Mrs. G does and seeking inspiration in her addled brain.

But for tonight?




Frying Pan.





Egg.

The News Is Out....Finally

So...for the past year, I've been anxious over ONE DOMINANT THING. But I couldn't share here as I was sworn to secrecy. Literally. I signed a document and everything. Are you ready? Are you set? Go!

(hushed reverent tone)..The secret is M E R G E R !!!!

Yup. My 100+ year independent privately held company (not really "My company" but you know, I've been here for 19 years) is merging with a publicly traded foreign owned company almost 10 times our size.

Things they are a'changing.

It was almost unbearable keeping this secret from my friends and colleagues at work for the past year (+). It totally dominated my time at work, but I still had a day job to do and people counting on me that wouldn't know why I couldn't get their work done. Is it any wonder blogging fell to the bottom of the pile? Hell sleep fell to the bottom of the pile.

So now the secret is out. As of June 25th I was freed. Why, then you may ask, has it taken more than a week for me to shout it from the blog rooftops? Well, I thought life would slow down after the announcement, but I forgot - I'm in communications and marketing - so who gets to work on all of the announcements, events, FAQs, intranet content, client outreach, print materials, conference calls, etc? That's right - ME! The only difference is now I have my whole team in it with me...thank god...

Yesterday my team and I got to call 60 offices to arrange an event on Friday of next week for "Day One" of the new merged company. The logistics of arranging all offices for a single call /presentation by our President and the new parent company's CEO, as well as helping with the whole food/tent/budget/detail stuff is mind boggling.

But that's life.

So...what's next? Well, keeping our jobs is tops on the list. Figuring out where all the bodies are buried in the new place is going to be an effort. Understanding the new political underbelly should be interesting. Truth be told, it is as exciting as it is scary - making for a wonderful cocktail of anxiety for Wenderina. Luckily, on most days, I'm too tired and busy to ponder it for very long...but on those occasions when the mind starts clicking...watch out.