33 Hours Later

I'm here! I'm in Brisbane. And I'm just taking a quick moment to post something post-shower (God I needed that) and pre-sightseeing.

After my bah humbug Valentine's post of yesterday? 3 days ago? whatever... I experienced an incredibly romantic trip. Ok - don't get exited hubby - it was not romantic for me, per se...but it did restore my faith in romance - on Feb 14th or any other day.

The whole trip was blessed by fortunate happenstances, travelers and airline employees in good moods, short lines, and quick connections.


Miracle, you say? Truly, I say.

When I got onto the Air New Zealand flight from LA to Auckland...

(Must interject here - business class for long flights is the ONLY way to fly. In fact - business class on all flights would significantly cut down on AIR RAGE...although you do have to pay a couple thousand a flight instead of a couple hundred.)



...I noticed several couples ranging in age from about 65-80+ in my section. They were as thrilled as I was in the accommodations - room galore - incredible service - food of a 4 star restaurant quality - and seats that turn into BEDS!




One couple in particular caught my attention. I'll call them Minnie and Maxie McGee after a folk song hubby and I used to know all the words to and that always made me cry like a sentimental fool. Minnie and Maxie, well, they were definitely about 80 years young and as in love as any two teenagers. Our only conversation was a passing comment here or there, so I never really learned their story, but their actions spoke volumes.

Maxie must have gotten up 3 or 4 times before take off to care for Minnie's comfort.

They always called each other Darling. With no sarcasm or witty tones, just full of affection.


They laughed, belly laughs, with one another as they ate their dinner.


And halfway through, as though they just couldn't stand not to, they reached across the table and held hands.


While the captain made the same observation I had that we were essentially skipping over Valentine's Day, Minnie would have none of it. She announced, "Darling, it is midnight at home. Happy Valentine's Day. I love you." Maxie responded, "I love you too Darling." Yet again Maxie got up and crossed the aisle, kissed his wife, and gave her a card.


When it came time to sleep, Maxie made sure Minnie was comfortable and tucked in first and kissed her goodnight.




In the night I saw Minnie get up and visit the bathroom and when she returned to her seat she stroked Maxie's hair and pulled the covers over him again.


In the morning, the lights came up and the crew began readying for breakfast service and Maxie woke up with a smile, "Good morning Darling!" and a kiss.


Over breakfast, they talked non stop, once again holding hands halfway through and laughing at one anothers jokes.


As we were departing the plane, they stood in line ahead of me and Minnie grabbed a comb from her purse and combed Maxie's hair mussed from sleep. Then Maxie smiled at her so sweetly, that I swear my heart stopped.


This kind of devotion is rare to see in today's hectic life. It's nice to know it is out there and that it can give an old cynic like me new hope and willingness to celebrate Valentine's Day - anywhere, anytime, any date.


Best wishes to you Minnie and Maxie. Good travels.

No V.D. This Year

I'm awaiting my plane. Heading off on the first leg of my trip. NYC to LA, LA to Aukland NZ, Aukland NZ to Brisbane AU. I'm thoroughly confused as to how much time I will actually be in the air...and if you know...don't comment here...I think it is better I be kept in the dark.

Last night as I was reviewing my itinerary with Hubby, I was interested to see that I take off on Feb 13th and land on Feb 15th...crossing the dateline.

Hubby smartly commented, "You've always hated Valentine's Day and now you've actually found a way to erase it from your calendar." My reply? Laughing, "Honey - you just gave me my blog topic."

For those of you who like this holiday and get into the dancing bears, flowers, lingerie, chocolates etc. Enjoy. I happily leave you this day.

For those of you, like me, that have bad memories of Valentine's Days in the past and/or just don't cater to the Hallmark holidays, take a tip from me. Travel acoss the dateline and miss it completely!

When I was a little girl, I remember that everyone gave and everyone received Valentines. We used to have tissue box mailboxes on our desks or maybe a manila envelope stapled at the sides to make a pocket and taped to our chairs. Rarely a "special" valentine was given or received to denote that you had a greater standing than those who just got the dime a dozen paper cartoon valentines.

As I grew older, the valentines grew fewer and far between, and most February's found me wishing that I was of the popular and sought after girls who were singled out in homeroom by a "special delivery" carnation for those high school fundraisers (also known as heartbreakers). A few girls walked around with white (friendship), pink (caring), and red (true love) in bunches. A few more had just one - but it was very precious to them. Too many others had none.

I remember a particularly sad day when I actually asked a male friend of mine if I gave him the $2 would he buy/send me a flower anonymously? He wisely declined. Even a high schooler should know when to accept her fate.

In college - one week before Valentine's Day 1986 - I met my mate. And on Valentine's Day he gave me flowers and a hand-drawn card with Opus as a cupid. I still have that card. And that is the one and only Valentine's Day that has a sentimental meaning to me.

Although we have been happily together since that day, I don't need February 14 to celebrate it. He tells me he loves me every day. Truly. And I tell him.

So begone carnations, roses, and lillies; take away those chocolates and cards; no dinner reservations or pumped up prices for romantic getaways for us. This year I've beat you. I'll be somewhere over the Pacific Ocean - and Valentine's Day will not happen this year.

Sweet.

The Uphill Battle

Tattoo Regrets

I've always wanted to get a tattoo...but I'm chicken. I have no judgment about tattoo art, in fact I think it is really cool, but needles and pain...yeah...I can't get past them.

When I was in my 20's I was hanging out with a couple of friends from college and they determined they were going to get tattoo'd. Off they went, leaving me in the dust, to the big bad tattoo parlor. One, we'll call her Swede, she picked out a small monochromatic Chinese symbol. If I had the guts to do it, it is exactly the kind of thing I'd pick out. The other, one of the smartest women I have ever met, we'll call her Cat, she picked out a much different style piece of art.

Not exactly this...but "in the style of..." When she showed me her leg, I thought she was goofing around. I believe my exact words were, "Too funny Cat - so you chickened out and used a rub-on from a cereal box?"

Um. No.

It was permanent. This woman was a CPA in a very conservative auditing firm. I envisioned she would be wearing opaque tights in July.

Fast forward ten years. We all return to our old college town (Can I get a shout out for Geneseo NY?!) and these same two women, who should obviously NOT be allowed to hang together decide to tattoo again. {They don't look like troublemakers do they? For reference Swede on right, Cat on left.}

Now we are in our 30s...supposedly older and wiser. Well the Swede decides to go wild on us and gets a stripper tattoo across the small of her back. Again, if I had her bod and her guts, something I'd secretly like to do.

Cat? Yeah. This smart, attractive, successful woman got her funk on and decided to get another tatt...on her ass this time.

I'm NOT kidding. Apparently she was dating a guy with a roadrunner car? She was afraid if she tattoo'd his name or initials on and they broke up she'd be stuck with it. So SHE? decided this would be better.

??????

I love Cat. She? is a trip. And I'm happy to report, after a short breakup, she and her roadrunner are getting married this October. But the tattoo will not bear witness to this event. In fact neither will the dolphin. Because she has spent a few thousand dollars getting these two $50 tatts removed with laser treatments.

So you tell me - who has the bigger regrets?
That I never got the tattoo?
Or that she made choices that she later undid?

I'd say me.

Because at least she went out and tried it.

You Go Cat.

Friday Feelings

“I've learned that people will forget what you said,
people will forget what you did,
but people will never forget how you made them feel.”

~ Maya Angelou

Damn that woman says some awesome things.

I'm starting something new. Since the title of my blog remains Anxious Moments...although I was considering a re-design and re-title of "Crap From My Head"...I'm gonna explore some feelings.

As the first Friday, I'm gonna start with a list of feelings. No explanations, no context, just the raw stuff in my gut. I know a lot of it will seem contradictory - like how can I be feeling both happy and sad. Answer: I'm a woman. I feel all things at all times. I think about a zillion things at once. You men out there can be jealous or thankful. You decide.



Then...I'm going to attempt (until it gets boring and tedious for me and any of my visitors) to examine and define that feeling - the good, bad, and ugly of it. Feel free to join me.

Personally....

I feel Loved.
I feel Lucky.
I feel Lonely.
I feel Crazy.
I feel Inadequate.
I feel Guilty.

Professionally...

I feel Overwhelmed.
I feel Appreciated.
I feel Unappreciated.
I feel Rewarded.
I feel Tired.
I feel Challenged.
I feel Frustrated.
I feel Inadequate.
I feel Disorganized.
I feel Disoriented.
I feel Smart.
I feel Stupid.

Can you relate?

No. More. Managing. People. Ever.

[Imagine me screaming this like Faye Dunaway in Mommie Dearest. ]

I was astounded when attending class this past weekend (hip hip hoorah - another semester complete!!!) when the professor asked, "How many of you manage people?" and I was the only one to raise their hand. I was astounded and J.E.A.L.O.U.S.

You see in Jan 2007, I took on the motherload of staff. Not in quantity, but in need. I mean this group is like the craziest (and not in a good way) bunch of ...um...folks...I have ever met. To be fair, there are some gems buried under the muck, but for the most part - U.G.H.

Truthfully, they are all good people. Really. Not a wicked douchebag in the mix at all. But as employees - my God these people are killing me.

One cannot get her ass in on time, ever. But she must leave every day at the dot of 4:30. One loves to stir the pot and tattle on everyone. One is the sweetest person alive and puts in the most effort of anyone you've ever seen, but is slow as molasses and I get constant complaints about her work. One is so ambitious that his lips are permanently glued to my ass - unless he gets busy up the ladder with our VP or other execs. Another threatened to quit unless he was given an impressive title and role as national leader, but he never leaves his office, or his desk for that matter, and he's the only one in the entire company that uses a MAC - so he is pretty much useless as a shared resource. One gets praise for her work, but I think her stuff looks like a bad patchwork quilt...nothing clean, crisp or professional in the batch. Yet another thinks she is brilliant but is actually more of an airhead without a filter between her thoughts and her mouth.

These people are truly draining the life out of me.

Why? Because I care.

I care about doing a good job. I care about this stupid company and the work we do. I care about how my group is perceived and how it reflects on me. I care that these people have put in a lot of years and no one ever took the time to tell them they suck and to do a better job. I care that these are good people and I delude myself into believing I can make a difference in their career and reputation if I just spend a little more time and effort on them. I believe I have the potential to be the "WORLD'S BEST BOSS"...

I care and I don't want to fire anyone. My hubby? He's earning a new nickname - "The Donald". He started his job in July and has fired 3 people. Well actually, he scared them into quitting. To be accurate, he confronted two on misconduct and they resigned; the third he lucked out on since he was about to fire him for non-performance when the guy's mother-in-law got sick and he had to move out of State.

Three people. In seven months.

Most of my staff have been here longer than me, and I started as a SECRETARY and I'm now their boss! Can it be true that they really don't care? Should I not worry about it and start pink slipping everyone? Outsourcing sounds mighty fine I must say...although hard to manage too.

I've been reading Chick's sad tales of woe with her work and her manager and I'm struggling because I would never want to bring that kind of misery to an undeserving person (and because I love Chick and I firmly believe she is good, talented, and professional, despite a few cola-snorting, bon-bon eating ass comments I know she is undeserving of misery) I am totally at a loss.

This week I actually went beyond the over-the-counter Prilosec and got a prescription to try and alleviate my chronic and continuing heartburn. I sit in my office rubbing my neck like it's going to help.

I have had heartburn for the past 6 weeks - unrelenting. And I can pretty much attribute all of it to my job...and most of that...to the people who work for me. The last time I remember having a week of no heartburn? When I was on vacation at the Cape....in AUGUST!

I read Mrs. G's post this week about being discovered by a friend while she was filling her Zoloft prescription at Walgreen's. First, of course, I laughed at the hysterical picture that she painted. Especially the post-friend-visit where she dry-swallowed the Zoloft. But then I was like, hmmmm....Zoloft.....

So, I've been feeling a little like Mommie Dearest in my emotional control for the past few days. Yesterday I told a very nice VP that I would NOT redesign his website tool unless he guaranteed the team would use it because it was for damn sure they weren't using the one I originally designed for them last year. OUCH. He totally didn't deserve my snottiness.


But, you know, he was there.

And I? am not on Zoloft.

YET.

Superbowl Sunday for the Non-Football Fans

Because it is unacceptable in the U.S. to not participate in festivities surrounding the Superbowl, we joined a small gathering at a friend's house.

Let's call the friends - Coach and Queen B. Coach is a HUGE HUGE HUGE sports fan. Pretty much any sport. And Superbowl Sunday? Yeah - its a national holiday for him. Poor man. He really must re-think his Superbowl Party invitation list.

Attending:
His wife - Queen B. Interest in sports? Less than zero.
His kids - Mighty Max and Princess? Yup - prefer X-box..
Wenderina - Gave up football at last Buffalo Bills loss and has never looked back.
Hubby - Knows his football, but is happier with a book, his paints, or a computer.
Britania 1 & 2 - British couple whose definition of football involves a checkered ball and games that result in a 1-0 score.
Brit Kids - Up playing X-box with the others

Things you don't usually see at your typical Superbowl Party:

1. Politics and Philosophy discusion (Hubby and Britania 1)
2. Cooking Light Recipe Swap (Queen B and Britania 1)
3. Kitchen Gossip - for 2 quarters of play (Wenderina, Queen B, Britania 2)
4. Snoozing Guest- Wenderina - 3rd quarter
5. Quirky Comments like "What's his name? Human Urine" Queen B re: Umenyiora
6. People who really don't care who wins or loses (and arrived at party not knowing which teams were even playing!).
7. People who need to have a box pool explained to them.

Well, we still had a great time - but I'm sure at some point Coach deteremined he would much prefer real fans to attend his party next year.

Ex-cell-ent (imagine Bill and Ted accent here)

Validation is a sweet sweet thing. People who know me well understand that my blog title is very honest. I am riddled with anxieties. These same people also scoff at me because they say I have no reason to be anxiety ridden every moment of every day.


My response: since when has reason had anything to do with anxiety?????


So every little validation - while it doesn't alleviate my feelings of inadequacies, it does make me realize I'm pretty crazy to keep having them. And that's an ok thing.

So thanks to Ian Lidster from Or So I Thought for giving me a place on his top 10 list of Excellent Blogs. How extraordinary! The fact that Ian is actually a man who makes a living by the quill - being a journalist and freelance writer is even more exciting since I imagine that some day, some how, I might publish... well... something.

This blogging thing is my first foray into writing for myself versus writing crap brochures and marketing docs for my job.


So the terms of the awards require that I give back to others - so here's my top 10 list of Excellent Blogs:

1. Searching for an Even Balance. This blog is special to my heart because it has re-introduced me to my niece. Only 9 years my junior, I still always viewed her as a child, a teenager at most, despite the fact she is a very intelligent, grown up woman with a husband and a child and a very entertaining view of life.


2. View from the Passenger Seat. Amybow authors this blog and sits only two cubicles away from me in our own personal Dilbert-hell environment. She taught me about blogging and keeps me sane with our regular walks and lunch escapes from the insanity.


3. Good Intentions. Again, I personally know the author of this blog. Kiki also shares our life and times at Uncle Malcolm's House of Pain (job nickname) and keeps me laughing with our shared sense of the ridiculous. I've learned more about Kiki from her blog than from our conversations at work, and I find her to be an amazing woman.


4. Jason for the Love of God. Touching, funny, totally and brutally honest wrapped up in a gifted storytelling style. Chick simply awes me.


5. Derfwad Manor. I love Mrs. G (as do many others based on her nearly 100 comments per day). I think her ability to think up such engaging posts is really amazing. And sharing her bounty of readership with others with her Slow Cook Thursdays is very generous.


6. Juggling Life. I've only been reading this blog for the last month - since she was featured on Derfwad Manor, but I love it. Great family, fun stories, Almost Wordless Wednesdays, and very inventive nicknames for her featured players.


7. Or So I Thought. Back at ya Ian. I enjoy your writing although I am sometimes intimidated by your depth of knowledge and experience. You encourage me to take the time to read those depressing newspapers, turn off the movie channel and check out the news, and pay attention to the world around me.


8. Stephanie's Place. Although many of her posts are just...painful...as they deal with the trials and tribulations of step-parenting with a highly dysfunctional "other parent" she has termed Egg Donor (ED) - she certainly writes from the heart and I am in awe of her dedication and fortitude.


9. 60 Piggies. For pure artistry - in images, craft, and word. I often feel I'm visiting a museum or a library - but one that has been infused with a lovely homey warmth - when I visit 60 piggies.


10. Artistic Balance. This is hubby's space and my love of this blog is totally tied to my love of him. He has a wonderful artist's soul that still sucks it up and goes to work every day to help pay our bills. I wish he could spend more time on his photography and his painting, but until that day - I hope he continues to pursue this hobby so we can enjoy the fruits of his labor together.

If you didn't make my list - you are still among my favorites or you wouldn't be what populates my blogroll and keeps me up until 3:00AM reading and commenting.

Go visit and enjoy them as I do....my most excellent friends.

Brisbane Bound

I'm traveling far far FAR away.

While MoStraz was YELLING at me to go to England right away (is that you Doty?) I was booking my travel to Brisbane. I'm going for work, but hope to get in a little play while I'm at it. Because work set the schedule, I'm going in February - essentially the hottest month of the year in Australia. Melissa at Inquisitrix tells me it is "hotter than the hubs of hell" there right now. Yay.

But still - it's an adventure, and my life usually sadly lacks in adventure (except those I find in my books). I tried to convince hubby or some of my friends to come along - even though I'd have to ditch them most days for meetings - but no takers. So I'm off on my own and the only female attending the meetings (Yay again).

I can't believe I'm complaining about a free trip to Australia!! What a snot I am!! Immediate attitude adjustment. Wait for it. There.

Hey everybody - I'm so psyched that I am flying to the opposite end of this earth to see Australia!

I'll be here.

And since I arrive on a Friday morning and my meetings don't start until Sunday afternoon, I'm hoping to fight through jet lag and see this:

According to the website, I can get there like this:

Which may or may not be a good idea , but what I've got to see is this:

What other wonders might I see?

Countdown: 13 days to lift-off.

Anglophile or Anglophobe?

My hubby and I are self-proclaimed Anglophiles {people who love English culture and England in general} and yet we've never been to England. It is a very sad and shameful thing. We are very sure we would love it there - from the cold and rainy north to the palm trees in the south, from the metropolitan London to the country farmlands. In fact, I think I'm going to order this shirt to prove my love of all things under the Union Jack.

When I was growing up we often had visitors from England. My father was employed at Eastman Kodak Company (also known as "Big Yellow"). Between 1940 and 1942, 156 British children were brought to the Rochester area by Kodak to safeguard them from the war in their home country. These “Kodakids,” as they were called, were placed with the families of local Kodak employees or in foster homes for the duration of the war. My father's family hosted two sisters - Joan and Ruby. They left their family and their lives behind and lived with my father's family for 6 years. Can you imagine? Interrupting your childhood and leaving your country, your family, your friends, everything behind and adopting a whole new life? I can't imagine what was harder. Coming to the U.S. or returning to England as a relative stranger to your family and your country.

Anyway, they were lovely people and my love affair with British accents, authors, and culture began there. They gave me their strange money to keep in a jewelry box at home and tried to teach me about exchange rates, they talked about nights out at the pub, they had rosy cheeks and bright eyes, they referred to beers as pints. They introduced me to Jane Austin, Lewis Carroll, Charles Dickens, and the Royal Family. I fell in love with Wimbeldon - and the tradition of white on the courts, the Duke and Dutchess of Kent in the stands, the starched reserved properness of it all.
And when I was older, they introduced me to Benny Hill.
And I found the seedy underside of British life.
And I was well and truly hooked.


The balance to all that proper behavior was this incredibly funny foul man. Can you hear the music playing now?


I've continued to spend my Friday evenings watching the local PBS station's BritCom nights with wonderful and quirky shows from the 70s, 80s, and 90s. Some favorites - check them out.

The Young Ones
[The anarchic flatshare from hell]

Are You Being Served?
[Set in the antiquated Grace Brothers department store, the show followed the antics of its staff]

Coupling
[3 guys, 3 girls, not your average "Friends" episodes]

Black Adder
[Follow the tawdry and yet inexorable progress of the Blackadder dynasty]

As Time Goes By
[a gentle, well-scripted sitcom about the rekindling of long-lost love]


The Vicar of Dibley
[Not your run of the mill grey-haired cleric]

Fawlty Towers
[Farce run amok]

My Hero
[Thermo-man adjusts to life on earth]

God Bless the BBC.

Hot Potatoes

Welcome to Hot Potato day.

One Potato: Thinking I was meeting with a colleague to align her tasks with mine, I quickly became aware that it was actually a meeting where she was trying to PASS her tasks to me. Oh.No.Sister. I don't play that way. You must cook and eat your own potato. Your potato is too hot for me.

Two Potato: Having inherited a task that does not belong on my desk, my staff's desks, or even my group's desks, I tried to meet with others who shared the "grey area" around this job. It became quickly evident that this project has been orphaned and while critical for the company, no group and no person will adopt it. Poor orphan. This hot potato is still jumping until it finds a home.

Three Potato: Quick deadline request. This was my OLD job. But I still get the potato. Today's potato could get us a $500k job for only 1.5 hours work. Think I can get commission on a well-cooked potato?

Four Potato: New task came to me - how to sort out a multi-national project report on revenues, costs, profits, and sales. Every question I asked to get clarification (keeping in mind I failed out of accounting in college and am going by my years of experience in checkbook management here) yielded this response: "Hmmmm, good question...I haven't really thought that one out yet." Have you ever noticed how hard it is to bake an unripened potato?

Five Potato: Received an email from my professors today with suggestions on how to structure my final report and presentation which is due this weekend. Hello. I already planted, harvested, and am just finalizing the cooking of my potato now...why are you sending me back to the planting stage?

Enough already. Keep your hands off my potatoes and I'll keep mine off yours.

Miss America Reality Check.....NOT!

I admit it. I got hooked by the great ad campaign for the Miss America Reality show and tuned in to most of the episodes. I not so secretly took pleasure in watching these women being mocked for their pageant...well...nonsense and 1950's sensibilities.

My favorite moments in the reality show were equaled by my disappointment in the actual pageant.

1. When "controversy" was the special guest at dinner. This session took the normal beauty pageant questions and turned them on their ear. Imagine their surprise when they were asked to discuss gay marriage, gun control, teenage sex/pregnancy, etc.? Not one of them could hide behind the "world peace" standard response.
   
   Actual pageant questions. LAME. LAME. LAME. They took "man on the street" questions. And I'm sorry America - but you people who actually stop and talk to microphones when they are stuck in your faces are just plain stupid. Those of us who are smart, see a microphone and WALK THE OTHER WAY! While there were a few moments where controversy might have been a possibility (discussion of STDs seems a little risque for Miss America) everyone did the usual dance around the issue.
   
   
2. Makeovers. HYS-TER-I-CAL. These women were astounded when they were told, you're beautiful BUT... cut your hair, too much makeup, dress better, less aqua net, smile less, walk better, get modern!!
   
   Actual pageant looks. Unbelievably they all came back with the big hair, heavy duty makeup, and silly struts that they had tried to lose in the reality show. In particular - one contestant who had a really radical look with super straight and funky bangs came out with that hideous camel hump roll in her bangs making her look like a throw-back from 30 years ago. Oh - and had to love the HUGE earrings that so go with tank tops and jeans.
   


3. Competitions. Similar to Survivor they had competitions to win them extra bonuses and to test their abilities. Some women were reduced to tears with the idea of having to (gasp) jump in a pool with their pageant swim suits. Gloryanna what the hell is with these women?
   
   Actual pageant competitions. Help me please. Who the hell told any of these women they have talent? The ballet dances were PAINFUL. The singing - a pretty close second. The batons, thankfully, were eliminated before they got a chance to twirl.
   
   
4. Evening Gowns. The show stressed modern looks. Simple lines. Hip. Trendy. Anything but the princess gowns dripping in sequins. At one point they were each given a turtleneck long sleeved gown they had to modify and accessorize to suit the feedback they got on what worked for their body type and current trends. Wow. These women demonstrated some serious lack of taste in that episode. But at least they weren't glaring sequins.
   
   Actual pageant gowns. Most were the same old same old. The winner actually wore an illusion gown that was pretty revealing, but the parts that weren't transparent were (you guessed it) dripping in sequins.
   
   
5. Hosts & Patter. I loved the host of the reality show - Michael Urie. He was funny without being mean (I was mean enough for both of us as I rudely snickered away), and he had some camera presence and some charm.
   
   Actual pageant hosts. LAME LAME LAME LAME LAME. Mark Steines seemed to be qualified purely by the fact that he married Miss USA 1993 or something. Clinton Kelly (What Not to Wear host)...had no qualifications. So, can I just say again...LAME?

I really have to say that between the lousy judge's panel and the bad overall production, Miss USA was pretty much as bad as ever as an entertainment show - possibly worse. If they were expecting to turn this into America's Next Top Model...well they failed. If they were expecting to turn this into a true scholarship program...they failed. If they were expecting to turn this into Cinderella...they still failed.

And as far as going modern? Well, bringing contestants out in jeans, making the losing contestants sit on the stage for the entire show and eat CARBS with Clinton Kelly, bringing parents up on stage to sit on bleachers, and using the Arnold Horschack (ooh oooh pick me pick me) mode for the Q&A just didn't spell modern to me.

Every contestant who seemed even remotely different/modern was chopped in the very first cutoff. I did like Miss Washington. She seemed quite intelligent, had a fair talent and at least sang a modern song vs. Over the Rainbow (ugh!), and was really up on today's issues. For a few moments, I also had hopes when Miss Utah made it into the top 16 by a popular vote from reality show viewers, but she missed out on the next cut from the judges.

At least she dropped to the stage and "gave us 10" (push-ups that is) before exiting. And several of her competitors joined her as well. Now THAT's a modern take.

Sadly, the crown yet again went to a blonde barbie doll cutout with a history of eating disorders and aspirations to become a broadway actress. How inspiring.

Unfair

When you are dieting and feel hungry, why aren't you immediately thinner?

You know what I mean, right? When you are really full, your normally snug fitting clothes become like a noose around your waist.

So if you are eating less food and feeling hungry, why don't those clothes get loose by a similar degree?

This is just patently unfair.

But, despite the unfairness of it all, I will persevere.

Understanding My Options

In a quest to be a little more aware of the political environment and my choices in the upcoming presidential election, I discovered a helpful tool. The Presidential Candidate Matching Quiz. It takes top issues, simplifies them into multiple choice position options, and then aligns them with the various candidates.

Not surprisingly, although I am not registered with any party affiliation,I come out strongly democractic. Also not surprising, there are only 3% points difference between the four running dems.

89% Barack Obama
86% Chris Dodd
86% John Edwards
86% Hillary Clinton
83% Bill Richardson
79% Joe Biden
74% Dennis Kucinich
72% Mike Gravel


51% Rudy Giuliani
44% John McCain
33% Mike Huckabee
33% Mitt Romney
27% Tom Tancredo
22% Fred Thompson
14% Ron Paul

2008 Presidential Candidate Matching Quiz

Thus, my quandry continues. And I'm not alone. The January 21st issue of Newsweek has a feature article on Hillary Clinton. One of the interesting points brought out in the article is after hoping for years for a viable minority or female candidate for president - we have both in one year. "Some women are nursing guilt over supporting Obama; some African-Americans worry they are doing the wrong thing by voting for Clinton."

So I am returning to the issues, trying to be educated in my choice, trying not to let emotion sway me, and trying not to get caught up in how "cool" it would be to have a black or a female president and be sure we get the RIGHT president.

But damn, it would be cool if the RIGHT president also turned out to be Hillary or Barack.

Welcome Fans of Derfwadness!

I'm happy to welcome anyone today who is coming by way of Mrs. G. at Derfwad Manor. She was kind enough to host me today on her guest spot - Slow Cook Thursday.

I met Mrs. G. through my journey through NaBloPoMo in the Women Over 40 group she created. We've been fast friends ever since.

My other post today is my one and only solicitation post...so I just wanted to insert this little disclaimer here. I'm not into blogging to make connections to fund my own little pet projects, it just so happened that my favorite sister was looking for help for her class on the very day I was expecting an influx of links because of "The Power of Derfwadness".

So, if you're interested in checking out a good cause, read my next post. If not, that's okay too. Skip on through my earlier ramblings. Hopefully you'll find something that connects with you.

Because that IS the reason I blog. To wrench crap out of my overly crowded brain, share my observations and feelings (aka crap) with people who enjoy my quirky sense of humor, my abundant sentimentality, and my occasional bitchy remarks. And then I get to find others like you and enjoy your nuttiness, joys, sorrows, and hopefully some equally bitchy remarks.

Cuz I hate to be the only bitch in the room.

Robots Must be Built! Students Must Learn!

My sister is a teacher in the San Diego area who has been given an opportunity to help her kids with a life changing experience. They are trying to raise money to build a robot for the US FIRST (For Inspiration and Recognition of Science and Technology) Robotics competition. They need your help! They have entered a contest to raise money through PARADE Magazine and Network for Good.


If you would like to help, please continue to read, visit the link below and donate atleast $10. They are also competing for the most donations, so if you would like to donate more than $10 then do it in $10 increments. If they succeed, they could go on to the national competition in Atlanta, GA. Visit her blog at Hey Jude to read more. Thanks!



"Dear Family, Friends, and Colleagues,

Do you want to be a part of a life-changing program that inspires young people to pursue opportunities in science and technology?

Lend a hand to help our students follow their dream. Sweetwater Union High School District has three high schools (Eastlake High, Hilltop High, and Alternative Education) building robots to compete in the San Diego Regional, March 6-8, 2008. To get to the competition, it is essential to raise money to pay for the robotic kit, transportation and various other expenses.

We have entered a contest to raise money through PARADE Magazine and Network for Good. They will give $50,000 to the top 10 charity groups who bring in the most $10+ donations. Read more about the contest

Click on or copy and paste the site below. You will be linked to our “badge” and can donate to rally around our students!

http://www.networkforgood.org/Pca/Badge.aspx?BadgeId=109490

When completing the form, use the following information:
Designation: Robotics

Remember we are looking for numbers of donations, not amounts! If you want to donate more than $10, please donate in multiples of $10 from everyone in your households. The more names we get, the more chances we will have to win!!

This contest ends January 31, 2008, so PLEASE donate now! 1200 donations of $10 each will put us in very competitive status! After you donate, forward this link to everyone! Time and numbers are of the essence!

THANK YOU!

Hilltop High School Team
EastLake High School Team
Alternative Education Team

About FIRST:
Accomplished inventor Dean Kamen founded FIRST (For Inspiration and Recognition of Science and Technology) in 1989 to inspire an appreciation of science and technology in young people. Based in Manchester NH, FIRST designs accessible, innovative programs to build self-confidence, knowledge, and life skills while motivating young people to pursue opportunities in science, technology, and engineering. With the support of many of the world’s most well-known companies, the not-for-profit organization hosts the FIRST Robotics Competition and FIRST Tech Challenge for high school students, the FIRST LEGO League for children 9-14 years old, and the junior FIRST LEGO League for 6-9 year-olds. To learn more about FIRST, go to www.usfirst.org.

Remembering My Dad

Today is my Dad's birthday. He would have been 82 years old. He passed away 5 years ago due to complications from the treatments he was receiving for lung cancer.

My Dad had been a smoker much of my life. He beat it for a while, but after several years began sneaking the cigarettes again. In February of 2003 he was diagnosed with small cell lung cancer - the most deadly and rapidly spreading kind. The doctors gave him the option of just treating his pain, or trying to beat the cancer. Either way, they were pretty sure he was terminal. We were all together at the hospital that day. It was probably the first time in 10 years we were all in the same room together - Mom, Dad, and all five kids. My Dad looked around at us, and didn't hesitate. He just said, "Let's do it! Let's try to beat this."

At first I thought he was in denial. But then I watched his actions. When packing up from their winter Florida home to return to Rochester NY for the treatments to begin, he insisted on walking to the rental office. When we asked him why, he said, "To Say Goodbye". There was something in the way he said it that told me it was to say a final goodbye. He knew he would never be back.

He made a list of things he wanted to do. Simple things. Places he wanted to go one more time. People he wanted to see. He was facing the end with grace and honor as he had his entire life.

At the airport we all flew off in our various directions home. One brother and one sister to southern California, another brother and sister to Rochester with my folks, me back to Suffern. Expecting the Doctor's prediction of 6 months we were all gearing up. Who could take a leave of absence from work first? How were we going to tag-team so Mom and Dad had our support?

But I sat in the airport after everyone else had left and wrote the eulogy I would find myself delivering much too soon.

A couple of weeks into Dad's treatment we were still debating how to make it all work, and I was on my way home from a conference I had attended in California. While waiting for a delayed connection, I received a call from my husband. He had driven to Rochester to meet me there. The plan was to spend the weekend in Rochester with my folks and try to make some plans for the coming months and then to drive home to Suffern. But everything changed with that call. My father had spiked a fever and was hallucinating and semi-responsive. They were calling an ambulance. They would send someone to get me at the airport when I landed.

That was the longest flight of my life. I remember thinking some angel had been watching me because someone had left the book The Love Letter in the seat pocket and it was the only thing that got me through that flight.

In the emergency room, my father apologized to me. He had been looking forward to the weekend, to seeing us, and he was sorry we were inconvenienced to be in the hospital. That was my Dad. He always wanted the best for all his kids.

To test him and keep him alert, we asked him, "What do you think Dad?" and he kept answering, "Save your Money" and making us all laugh through our tears.

The doctors took us to a private room to tell us they could do nothing for him but make him comfortable. His immune system was wiped out by the chemotherapy and the infection was ravaging his body. They didn't think he would last 24 hours. We called my sister and brother in California and told them the news. We called relatives and encouraged them to come and say good-bye. We tried to find moments of lucidity in my Dad's last hours to tell him we loved him and it was okay for him to go.

Then we waited.

We took turns sitting by his bedside. At one point my husband leaned over and kissed my Dad's forehead and told him, "You've always been my hero." In the wee hours of the morning, while others were sleeping in the waiting room, I was there holding his hand while my husband stood nearby. Then something changed.

None of the monitors registered a difference, but there was something new in his aspect. I told my husband to go down the hall and wake everyone. I asked the nurse to come into the room. As I watched, I still couldn't pinpoint it, but something was happening. Quietly, I said, "Dad?" and watched as a single tear streamed down his cheek. I squeezed his hand and he was gone.

One week later I delivered a eulogy at my father's memorial service. There were bagpipes playing Amazing Grace (he would have loved that) and despite an extreme ice storm that had surprised upstate NY that week, over 100 people came to pay their respects.

Because my Dad? he touched people. He lived a simple life. But in its simplicity was its power.

Happy Birthday Pop. I miss you every day.

Can you hear my heart breaking?

The news came over the radio this evening. Heath Ledger, actor, age 28, found dead.



I first discovered him on the short-lived tv series Roar. (Think Xena Warrior Princess but replace macho dark-haired, dark-eyed woman with sweet 17-year old blonde, deep-voiced boy).


The show was awful, just awful. But there was something totally riveting about the young star. He had a velvet voice and a smile a mile wide, and he ate the lens of the camera.


After the show ended he began to pop up in a variety of movies - some fun, some entertaining, and then it all broke wide open (pun not intended) with that little movie - Brokeback Mountain.


Today, that life and talent ended with a young man, found naked in bed, surrounded by pills, in an apartment in SoHo. I'm making no assumptions, no judgments, no second guesses.

I'm just sad this sweet boy is gone.

On My Own...The Story of Eponine

One of my favorite Broadway hits is the musical adaptation of the Victor Hugo novel, Les Miserables. Who would have thought that you could set a revolution to music and find it entertaining?

Last night I had the most vivid dream that I arrived backstage at a broadway theater thinking I had a small chorus role to play. I didn't even know what show it was. Suddenly, I'm thrust into a costume and given a cocky little hat and some rags to wear, my hair is lengthened by extensions and made all raggedy, and my face is rubbed with more grime than makeup.

The role? Eponine - the sympathetic waif daughter of the Thenardiers.

Suddenly I'm on stage belting out "On My Own" - Eponine's signature song - and astonished to hear the sounds coming from my mouth.

I awoke this morning with the song reverberating around my brain and haven't been able to get it out of my head. If anyone has any ideas on what this dream means let me know. I am not a singer, never dreamed of starring on Broadway, didn't even participate in drama club in high school...so this one has me puzzled.

Regardless - it was a good dream. Think I'll play the soundtrack tonight when I get home.