Sunday with a Chance of a Penalty

Blog soundtrack:



When I got home last night, Nathan, who was sleeping over a friend’s house, left a wake-up call for 10am this morning. Why did he want to get up so early? And, believe me, for Nathan that’s early. He had a hockey game at 11:30; thus, he had to be at the rink by 11am.

I hadn’t ventured into a skating rink in a while. Given my nasty cold, I steered clear of last weekend’s game. And, even though I was feeling fine this morning, I wasn’t looking forward to the game. The primary reason being that it seemed that no matter what I wore on my feet that my toes lost all consciousness after the second period.

I could tell time at the hockey games, albeit in 12-minute increments, by my body alone. (In poker, a Royal Flush beats a Straight; in hockey, the Ice Rink always beats a Geordie.)

First period: Bottom in trauma due to initial contact with frigid cold bleacher seat.
End of first period: Bottom has warmed up cold slab of a seat; insert now semi-numb fingers under bottom for extra warmth, even if it looks strange; however, I’m sure it’s nothing other hockey parents don't do!
Second period: Wigging toes to keep them conscious. “Stay with me toes!” I shout as I slap them against the bottoms of my Dansko clogs.
End of second period: Toes unresponsive to any movement or my voice.
Third period: Using positive visualization and out-of-body experience to spend the next 12 minutes on a beach in the Caribbean.
End of third period: Mad dash to the entry way where the heat is plentiful and thawing is a way of life.

Anyway, after a very tired Nathan (went to bed at 5am after playing D&D all night) was dropped off at the rink, I gave myself the pep talk I needed to get back into the saddle (i.e., bleacher seat) again. I put on an extra heavy Winter coat. (At the hockey rink, function always wins over fashion; however, anywhere else, it’s definitely fashion over function!) I got out a hat and a pair of heavy gloves. After 5 minutes, I said, “Who am I kidding? This is a no-win situation.”

Before I left, Iz, who was going off to play with her friend “Kafrin” (Katherine), asked me if I knew where her pink backpack purse was. (All important items-of-the-moment should be equipped with tracking devices; it would be nice if I had one on her Nintendo DS, too!) After turning the downstairs upside down and inside out, because that’s where she swore she left it, we found it upstairs. Of course, on top of it, there was a sleeping cat; and unfortunately for Liam, we could not let a sleeping cat lie.

At 11:45am, I arrived at my destination – the bleachers at the Groton School. The bleachers said, “This is going to hurt you more than it’s going to hurt us.” I rolled my eyes, and I said, “Duh.” My bottom hit the bleacher.
--SHUDDER--
And, then I saw my handsome* #16 skate by and, suddenly, I warmed up.

*Okay, you can’t really tell he’s handsome with all that hockey gear crap on, but he is! Heck, sometimes I have a hard time telling the difference between him and #13, especially when I forget my glasses!

Today something happened which doesn’t happen a lot. It was during the second period. At that time, my toes and I were still maintaining some kind of dialog when the referee blew his whistle. Nathan was in the game and had just checked someone. Then I heard what no parent likes to hear, “Number 16, [pretend the ref is Charlie Brown’s teacher] woh-woh, woh-woh-woh-woh!”

Whatever it was, Nathan had just received a penalty that cost a minute and thirty seconds! I was like, “A penalty?! Not my boy! The ref’s got it wrong. Nathan loves cats. He does the Relay for Life. What harm could he have possibly done to another player?” I know. I emotionally go overboard.

Perhaps I do so, because I never played a sport where there were penalties. Throughout high school and college, I ran track and played volleyball. There are no penalties; well, none that involve physical contact.

When throwing a discus, you can step out of the circle and get disqualified, but it’s not like you can potentially hurt someone, unless you purposely dropped a shot put on a competitor’s toes. And, in volleyball, you might strategically kick someone under the net, but that happens rarely if at all. Yes, my sports are most civilized, she says.

Of course, when Nathan got his first penalty. I totally overreacted. I had visions of Nathan leading a life of crime. Well, they were my visions of a life of crime for Nathan knowing him as I do. He won’t give his seat on the subway to a pregnant woman or a little old lady. He will litter. Gasp! He will leave the toilet seat up! Yeah, thankfully, I got over that by his next game.

Today, when the ref announced the penalty, I saw Nathan whack his helmet as if to say, “Jeez, I can’t believe I just did that.” Part of my angst is that even though Nathan is out on the ice (or in the penalty box as the case may be), I still feel the tethers of motherhood. At each and every game, I play along beside him, even if it is from the bleachers and without a hockey stick.

When Nathan was sitting in the penalty box, a minute and thirty seconds felt like an hour and thirty minutes. And, I was thinking like him. We’re a man down. I will feel horrible if the other team scores, because I’m sitting here in the penalty box.

Fortunately, the other team didn’t score, though Nathan’s team still lost 3-0. But, this wasn’t a bad loss. It was definitely a win, because the last time they played this team, they lost 7-0. And, as it turns out, by the third period, it was a game fraught with penalties on both sides, and Nathan was in good “bad” company.

After warming up in the entry way and establishing contact with my toes again, Nathan came out of the locker room.

On the way out the door, I asked, “Um, so, why did you get that penalty?!”
He said, “Because I hit the kid in the head with my stick.”
I asked, “Why did you do that?!?!?”
Nathan replied, “Cuz the kid was a foot shorter than me!”
I thought for a moment that Nathan had Randy Newman’s “Short People” in repeat mode on his iPod.
He then said, “I checked him, but because he was so much shorter, my stick ended up hitting him in the head.”
It’s always a relief to know that your son is innocent until proven tall. (I think he's approaching 6'3" now; he's definitely surpassed Mom and Dad and is in range of Uncle Scott, Uncle Jack, and my Dad now.)

After the game, we drove off to our favorite greasy spoon for lunch. After being away for a bit, I caught up with all that was Nathan. We discussed his difficult mid-term exams, which had him texting earlier in the week, "I'm joining the French Foreign Legion," and his prom date, well, as much as he would divulge, between his text messages to Matt, Nickolas, and [eeeek!] Kelsey, the prom date. Do kids actually speak to each other anymore?! Or is that a lost art like macramé?

I love going away. But today, I loved coming home more. Pink backpack purses and penalties, and most everything nice; I’m so glad it’s what my life is made of. ♥

All Right! All Right!

Blog soundtrack:



Usually, when I travel to New York, it’s to listen to the wonderful James Maddock or to drown myself in vintage clothing for the day. If truth be told, I also go just for the experience of going. My approach, and it is probably my approach to life as well, is always to have my eyes wide open with my heart welcoming whoever and whatever might come my way. I think living your life should be like writing a book, a really good book. And, each time I go back to NYC, I go forward somehow.

Before every trip, I hope it will be just as enjoyable as the last time. It’s kind of like going away to a beach house for two weeks each Summer; you go back with your memories, yearning to leave with the same good feelings yet a different set of memories. And, my trip to New York City always brings with it the past journey.

While sitting on a stool waiting for James to begin to play, I closed my eyes, and instead of thinking of my last trip or the past week with all its frustrations, which were really minor upon reflection, I thought, “Will he play my song? Is Sam here? Why do I always get stuck next to the groping couples? And, I really hope I meet some new people tonight, because I’m just dying to hand out my killer calling cards!” Every so often, I wish I had a crystal ball; however, I now think 25% of the fun in life is living for what unexpected thing might come next instead of what came before.

As it happened, James played my song as his last number. After the show, I found Sam sitting in his usual corner and chatted with him for a bit. (Oh, the groping couple left after the first hour.) And, then wedging myself between people and saying “Excuse me!” about 25 times, I made my way into the bar, where I searched carefully for those who would be lucky enough to receive my card and, more importantly, meet me!

Who were those lucky individuals you ask? They were Charlie and Adam, friends of James. (Note to Charlie and Adam If They End Up Here: Yes. If I meet you, you do end up in my blog!) Both musicians, Charlie was currently an aspiring actor while Adam taught ESL classes. Charlie was a Brit, and Adam, an American, had just moved back from 20 years of living in the UK. They were wonderful guys, but wonderful aside, they had me, a total anglophile, with those accents.

After a while, they asked if I wanted to go off to another music venue with them, and I said I would love to. But, before we left, I had to laugh as Charlie put on his North Face jacket and pulled out his hat with ear flaps, and then Adam put on his coat, hat, and wrapped his scarf around his head until all I could see were his eyes. Apparently, this cold snap was something not common in the UK.

My laughter was greeted with remarks about me being a Geordie, given that I had divulged that my maternal grandfather (John F. Smith) was born in Newcastle. Of course, being a New Englander all my life, I had somehow developed some sort of immunity to the bitter cold. I am known around town for going to the gym or for a pedicure and then going directly to shop whilst wearing my shorts or flip-flops when it is below 40 degrees.

Anyway, three bands and three beers later, we departed in our different directions. I don't know whether I'll see Charlie or Adam again. I hope I do, because enjoying their company was certainly a great way to spend a Friday night. And, the company of friends is wonderful, whether they be your friend for just a night or for a lifetime.

When riding in the cab back to my hotel, I thought that a huge “gotcha” in life can be when you yearn to or try to recreate something that was, instead of just letting life happen as you know it always will. What occurs might not be exactly what you want to happen; however, whatever happens will always lead you to someone, somewhere, or something else.

On Thursday night, I had gotten together with all the people I worked with a my former place of employment; sadly, most of us are still unemployed, but happily, we all remain close. They were the best group of people I ever worked with. Until recently, it was hard thinking that I would never work with all of them again; however, I do so hope I have the chance to have co-workers like that in my next job.

And, as I have learned most recently, events aren’t relationships; people will come and people will go, and you have to accept that and keep moving forward. Sometimes it is what it is; however, sometimes it is what it was and nothing more. The goal is not about meeting anyone in particular; it’s about meeting yourself whereever you are and feeling good about where you are.

As the conductor took tickets this afternoon, a young man who was collecting trash came up the aisle. As he squeezed by the conductor, she asked, “How ya doin?” He replied in a rhythmic singsongy upbeat tone, “All right! All right!”

I then asked myself the same question.
“How ya doin’, Jean?”
I answered, “All right! All right!”
And, for the first time in a long time, I really meant it. ♥

And now, back to our regularly scheduled life…
[click-click, click-click, click-click]



There’s no place like home. ♥

Oh, and NEWS FLASH, this Ask the Goddess question just in!

Dear Goddess,
Did you get Iz a pink purse?
I.M. Katz, Sudbury, MA

Yes. I got her a pink backpack purse, and she loves it. She's been wearing it around all night!

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Blog soundtrack:


tick…tick…tick…tick…tick…tick…tick…tick…tick…tick…tick…KABOOM!

What was that, Jean?
Why it was my time-to-travel time bomb.
Do these explode often?
According to one of my friends, mine goes off when the month begins with "J" or "N," the moon is full (howling may or may not be heard), and when "Macy's" become a four-letter letter word when it's not a plural possessive!

When the going gets monotonous, the Bored go to NYC. So, I packed my bag, put my Hello Kitty gel pen in my purse, grabbed a notebook, and my travels became an open book.

Tonight, I’m going to see a musician whose music I have loved for the last ten years. (You might recall my adventures to NYC in July and November of last year if you jump in the wayback machine, Peabody.) If I’m on that deserted island with only ten CDs, I’ll have Elvis and Burt and definitely one or more CDs by this musician.

I kept thinking that I should wait until I get a job to make a break for it; however, as you’ve read, it would seem that the odds are more likely that I’ll get a job by chance in NYC than by staying home in front of my laptop. Note that the job in NYC will most likely not be a Macy’s!

When I went to leave this morning, Iz saw my suitcase.
She asked, “Where are you going?” as if she had just caught me sneaking out the basement door with a green Hefty trash full of clothing slung over my back.
I said, “Remember, I’m going to New York for the night.”
She said, “Aw, can I come?”
I said, “Not this time.”
She said, “But, I want to come.”
I said, “I will bring you a present.”
At the exact moment I mentioned the “p” word, her eyes lit up and she said, as if she’d just checked her “The Things I Didn’t Get from Santa” list, “I want Holly Moose!”
I said, “Well, I don’t know if I’ll be near a Build-A-Bear workshop, Iz.”
She thought for two seconds and then said, “Okay. I want a purse.”
I said, “But, you have a bunch of purses.”
She quickly shot back, “But, I don’t like any of them!”

I had to remind myself then that if I fought this, I would soon hear, “But, Mommy, you have all those purses.” Clearly, I had more purses than job offers, even if I was offered a job every day for the next four weeks. (Of course, most of them are vintage, which makes them a collection and makes me so not a purse-a-shopaholic!)

I said, “Okay.”
She said, “Pink. I’d like a pink purse.”
I kissed her good-bye, and she said, “I’ll miss you, Mommy.”

At that moment, I wanted to cancel my trip, because I would miss her, too. But, I was really looking forward to my little 24-hour get-a-away. Leaving home every now and then makes me appreciate home even more and, as of late, endure staying at home without a job more.

“If I ever go looking for my heart's desire again, I won't look any further than my own back yard. Because if it isn't there, I never really lost it to begin with! Is that right?” ~Dorothy

When at the train station, the woman sitting across from me asked me about seating on the train. She wanted to know if she’d have someone sitting next to her. I told her that even though we were only the second stop out of Boston, it was most likely she would have a seatmate when she got on and, if not, she would surely be making a new friend by Providence, Rhode Island.

I mentioned that I had never gotten on and been lucky enough to get a window seat. I then said, totally unaware of what I was saying or how I was saying it, “I like the window. I’m like a big golden retriever!” I then realized what I said and how I said it and quickly added, "Oh, that sounds so silly." She said, “No. I get it. I’m a psychologist!”

Why is it that whenever someone says "I'm a psychologist," I immediately feel like my every word will be analyzed?! Of course, for some reason, I work on the ridiculous assumption that psychologists are always working 24/7. Why do I think that being a psychologist isn't something you can't leave at the office? I've certainly thought that chefs left their spatulas at the restaurant and were not dispensing recipes to every stranger they bumped into when not at the restaurant.

She continued to ask me about what she should expect on the train. I felt, whether she was analyzing me or not, like the second-grader showing the first-grader around the cafeteria. "Never eat the tater-tots; they taste like cardboard. But, the chocolate cake that looks like a brown sponge is really good!" Anyway, it's good to feel knowledgable, especially when you don't feel that way most days of the week!

In the end, she was quite lovely, showing me pictures of her three handsome sons. She asked me why I was going to the city, and I told her I was music-motivated. I asked her why she was going to the city, and he said she was going to spend the weekend with an old college friend.

I found this all rather ironic, given that the last time I came home on the train, I sat across from and chatted to a very lovely psychologist. Today, I wondered briefly, after bumping into my second psychologist, if somebody was trying to tell me something. One of my friends asked me what I thought “they” were trying to tell me.

I answered that I didn’t have a clue as to what they were trying to tell me. Obviously, I’d rather listen to what the voices inside my head and the church billboards were trying to tell me anyway! (By the way, the next sermon at that church is "If I Could." I've got to check that place out.)

When our conversation ended, my phone beeped, and I saw that I had gotten email from a friend telling me to drive safely, stay warm, be safe, and not to talk to strangers. Oops. Well, psychologists aren’t really strangers, are they? They just talk to people like me who strangely identify with being a Golden Retriever with its nose pressed to window. Anyway, I wallowed in my friend's caring email for a moment or two.

Just then I felt something. It was an emotional epiphany. I felt it in my heart. And, I could sense that though I knew that feeling was there all along, suddenly, it became new again with each beat of my heart.

I felt loved by my friend. I felt loved by Iz. After a semi-challenging week, Macy's and documentation estimates went straight out of my head. And into my heart came love and knowing again that having people who love you is far more important than anything else; it is the rainbow. ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

“A heart is not judged by how much you love; but by how much you are loved by others.” ~Wizard of Oz

The Regional Train Versus the Acela Train Note: I’ve been on the Acela train a few times; it’s express to NYC, but it’s more expensive. I was on the regional (many stops) train today. I realized that even if I had the money, I’d still stay on the regional train. I like the slow pace, and the stops are like periods at the end of the sentences that comprise the paragraphs that become my journey.

As we slowly jostled back and forth over the tracks through New Haven, CT, I noticed a painted sign on the side of an old brick mill building that said, “Smoothie Foundation Garments.” Foundation garments? I immediately thought of those medieval lingerie torture devices like bullet bras and girdles, which made me laugh. I wondered what had become of Smoothie Foundation Garments. And, as we all know, where there’s a question, there’s bound to be a google.

When you travel slowly, you can see much better; when you’re zooming along, you miss a helluva lot for sure. ♥

End blog soundtrack:

Life Imitates Crime Scene Investigation

Begin blog soundtrack:



Was it the episodes of Kolchak the Night Stalker, Columbo, Kojack, McCloud, and McMillan and Wife that my Dad had me watching when I was little? Was I the great, great, great (add how many you think is appropriate, please!) granddaughter of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle? (My Dad loved Sherlock Holmes.) Or, is it just how I’m wired? For some reason, I can’t seem to avoid crime scene investigation or law and order in my life.

Today, when I wasn’t putting out the trash, revising my documentation estimates for a potential contract job, picking up Nathan, cleaning the house, or shopping for groceries, I made a brave attempt to clean out the email in my Inbox (3608 messages) and in my Sent (6906 messages) box. When doing so, I came across an email I sent to a friend about 2 years ago. It described (Drama Queen mode is on!), a horrific assault that occurred in my home one morning.

After I heard a loud scuffle downstairs, I went down to investigate. Liam, wearing his “Jets” leather jacket, had cornered Rover by the door. Rover, wearing her “Sharks” leather jacket, had her razor sharp dew claw out and was waving it back and forth in front of Liam’s nose. It was a rumble! Before I could physically separate them, Liam gave Rover a whack, Rover growled, and then I swooped down, picked Rover up, and I put her out on the porch.

I chased Liam off, and when I went out to check on Rover, I found her bleeding profusely on the porch. Obviously, Liam had gotten her good. I couldn’t figure out where, so I call the vet’s and brought her in immediately. And, here’s how it all went down.

Law and Order: Feline Intent

Liam had better get a good lawyer because Rover is suing for emotional damages and the $171.69 veterinarian bill! He got her right in the cephalic vein; that’s why she bled so much.

Oh, excuse me for a minute…the police are here now…
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
The police questioned me, Liam, and Rover. They put Liam in the police car (after using two sets of handcuffs, mind you, someone should invent paw cuffs for use on either bad dogs or cats!), and they are taking him down to the station to press charges: Assault and Battery on a Senior Feline Citizen.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Here’s the victim resting comfortably with her bandaged paw.



Here’s the criminal behind bars Rikers with no chance of parole.



And, finally, here’s the crime scene, as you can see they’ve indicated exactly where the victim was found.


.
.
.
.
.
.
.
And, as I made my way through the day today, I realized how much life is like a crime scene investigation. Okay, maybe it really isn’t, but I want it to be, because crime scene investigator is next on my career list after Cosmetics Sales Associate; and we all know how well Cosmetics Sales Associate is going!

Crime Scene: First floor entryway, Isabelle’s broom from Halloween, which has been shredded…



Detective Lenny Brisco says: This looks like the work of a kitten.
Plume: Guilty of Assault on an Inanimate Object

Crime Scene: Upstairs hallway outside Iz’s room, Iz’s outfit: shorts (in the middle of Winter?!) with leggings and silver pumps…



Detective Lenny Brisco says: This looks like Iz dressed herself.
Iz: Innocent of a Fashion Crime, Guilty of Excessive Fashion Creativity, Released on Her Own Recognizance (First Offense) and Asked to Change Her Outfit

Crime Scene: Bathroom, unrolled toilet paper hanging way down, which forms a large paper pool on the bathroom floor



Detective Lenny Brisco: This is tricky. One first might say a cat did it; however, the paper shows no signs of claw marks and is not shredded. Yep, this looks like the work of a six-year-old!
Iz: Guilty of Mishandling Paper Products, Life’s Too Short So Mom Rolls it Back Up

Crime Scene: Iz’s room, Liam and Plume on top of Iz’s desk looking innocent



Detective Lenny Brisco: It would appear that no crime has been committed, but they are cats.
Liam and Plume: Guilty In Advance of Some Crime We’re Sure That They’ll Commit in the Next Ten Minutes

I ♥ Lenny Brisco.

End blog soundtrack:

It's a Small World, But I Do Want to Paint It

Begin blog soundtrack:



My blog title is borrowed. It’s a play on a classic Steven Wright one-liner: “It's a small world, but I wouldn't want to have to paint it.” I thought as I left the mall yesterday; it is a small world, and perhaps it’s been made even made smaller by the Internet which, by the way, I helped to invent when I first worked at Digital Equipment Corporation!

(Note to Potential Employers: That thingy about the Internet is not on my resume, because I didn't want to boast; however, it is mentioned on my wiki page! Oh, or is it mentioned on my other wiki page? I forget!)

When at the mall, I realized that I had been carrying around my pearls in my bag for about two weeks. I guess I was just waiting to bump into a jeweler on one of my various mall trips. About three months ago, the clasp came undone from the string, and they had been un-wearable since then.

Gasp!
I feel your “Gasp!” because it was once my “Gasp!” What was I to do without my pearls?
How did you survive, Jean? We know everything looks better with pearls.
Fortunately, I have many sets of pearls, though they are fake except for the injured strand.
Good idea, Jean!
Remember, Grasshoppers: Always carry jumper cables, wear clean underwear, and have a spare set of pearls!

So, I happened to walk by a jewelry store at the mall, and the light bulb over my head triggered the one in the deepest pocket of my oversized bag. In turn, this then made the little plastic bag that held my pearls blink on and off. Okay. You know that’s not true, but wouldn’t it be great if you got reminded like that sometimes?!

I said then said, “Hmmm. What’s that blinking in my purse? Oh, it’s my pearls. And, what do you know? I’m here at a jewelry store!” I entered the store, went up to a sales associate, and I asked if they could repair them. She said she could send them out for an estimate.

So, here’s where I have to tangent off for a moment...

My blog has been great for many reasons.

1. It’s been great writing here.
2. My audience is the best.
3. One of the most interesting aspects has been hearing from two people I have never met, but I have mentioned them in a roundabout way in my blog.

I heard from DJ Krauthoff, who is the granddaughter of Tabitha Turner Dumper Krauthoff; I showed her grandparent’s headstone in a blog. Then I heard from a person whose name, Kandi Koski, I saw at the mall, who I then turned into a character of my own and wrote two stories about her. And, the real Kandi Koski found my blog!

Before I tangent back again…

“Is it weird in here, or is it just me?” ~Steven Wright

Okay, I’m going to tangent back now…

While the sales associate at the jewelry store was taking my information, I glanced around the store. A gold nameplate caught my eye. On it , it said, “Manager: Kandi Koski.” I had forgotten that this was the jewelry store in which I first saw Kandi’s name three and a half years ago. And, here she still was!

So, I decided I must meet her; however, I was unsure of how to inquire after her. I thought about saying, “Um, I’m looking for Kandi, because I love her name. Well, I wrote a story about her. The story wasn't about her per say; I just used her name. You see, there was a character I created with her name. So, do you think she’d want to talk to me, err, if you don’t already think I’m a lunatic?” Yes, I had better think about that introduction more!

When I go to pick up my pearls, I’m going to ask for her. I painted a picture of Kandi. It’s only fitting that I meet her, so the real Kandi can finally color my world. ♥

It’s trite, but it’s true. What a difference a day makes. I heard from Macy’s today. Unfortunately, I hoped I would be greeted with rouge and red lipstick; however, I was given rejection.

They emailed me (What? Doesn’t anyone say it with flowers anymore?!) to say they had “carefully reviewed” my “skills and qualifications.” But, in the end, Macy’s said “We do not have an appropriate position that matches your experience and skill set.” In the last 15 years, I had figured out telecommunications (more or less!), network performance monitoring software, and motherhood; however, obviously, the skill required to sell cosmetics at Macy’s still alluded me somehow. Okay. Whatever!

After a few tears, which were bound to occur given that water usually follows open floodgates, I was reminded of the Macy’s questionnaire. Okay, I felt it was really psychological profiling masquerading as a questionnaire! So, I questioned myself.

You might take job rejection personally.
Strongly Agree
You will go apply at Sephora.
Agree
You will get a job soon.
Neutral
You think “I won’t keep my chin up.”
Disagree
You believe life is not full of setbacks.
Strongly Disagree

Yesterday, I was going to paint the world with Benefit concealer, Vincent Longo eye shadow, Dior mascara, Laura Geller blush, and Tarte lip gloss. Today, I’m picking up my crayons, my coloring book, and I'm determined to find another place to color. ♥

When the Going Gets Tough, The Tough Make Their Cat Look Like a Sea Urchin to Cheer Themselves Up Note:



(I’ve used this song before, but it’s apropos, and it always reminded me of Suzebabe.)

End blog soundtrack:

Temporarily Out of Order

Blog soundtrack:



Yesterday, in my job frustration haze, I told a friend that for all the effort it was taking me just to have a potential shot at a temporary job, I wondered whether it would be easier and less stressful just to get a job at Macy’s. It’s funny how things you say in jest sometimes become a potential reality.

Today, I called to reschedule a hair appointment that I had next week. My hairstylist, Donna, asked if I could come at 10:30. I said I could, and she asked me how I was doing. The floodgates of emotion opened. Poor Donna was an innocent hairstylist who happened to be in the wrong question place at my ripe time.

I try to keep the floodgates closed and remain dry and on high ground; however, every once in a while, I have to open them. I told her how I was approaching a year of unemployment and felt that if I couldn’t land a writing job soon, then perhaps I seriously needed to consider a career change.

She asked me what I was considering, and I told her that I’d love to get into the cosmetics industry. I told her I met the Tarte representative at Sephora, and she said that aesthetician was a very hot career. And, that it also might be a useful credential if I did want to try to land a job with a cosmetics company.

Donna was very supportive and gave me many positive ways to look at my situation. Many of my friends have done this for me; however, it's always nice to get a new perspective on "positive ways!" She was also thrilled at the prospect that I might join her in the world of beauty! After a 30-minute much-appreciated pep talk, I drove over to see her.

When I arrived, I told her that last week I applied for a job at Sephora that I’d love to have; however, I probably wouldn’t be considered because of my lack of experience. I told Donna that the Tarte representative also told me that I might try working at a department store cosmetics counter as a first step to getting into the industry.

I told Donna, and suddenly it seemed much more serious now than in jest, that I just might head off to Macy’s to apply for a job this afternoon. She told me I should. And, then she said, “Perhaps, they have a job in cosmetics.”

As I left Donna’s, I thought, “Damn it! I am going to Macy’s.” Ironically, even with two potential writing jobs, for some reason, I felt I’d might be happier working at Macy’s. It was as if my gut said, “Leave Donna’s, go directly to Macy’s, do not stop, and do not collect any more gloom. Everything is going to fall into place…some day.”

When I arrived at Macy’s and inquired about a job, I was instructed to use a little kiosk and apply online. I went through the application. It had the typical employment questions, the “I’m a white female” part, and then there was a “questionnaire” at the end. It was 12 pages of questions (approximately 250 total) to be exact.

I was reminded that there were no right or wrong answers, and my answers choices would be Strongly Disagree, Disagree, Neutral, Agree, or Strongly Agree. After the first page of questions, I really had to wonder what kind of psychological test this was!

I yell at people when I’m upset with them.
I believe that criticism rather than praise makes people do a better job.
My co-workers would say I’m was the one most likely to appear in a “Girls Gone Wild” video.

Okay. That last one wasn’t one of the statements, but you can see where these questions were going. I noticed that after page 6, the questions were repeated or the same question was restated in a different way. I was beginning to wonder, “Is applying for any job easy these days?”

After I finished the application process, I spoke to the HR manager, because after clicking “Submit,” an error displayed. The HR manager took a look and said, “Oh. I’ve never seen that before.” It figures; I broke the job application!

She took my name and number. I was praying that it went through, because I dreaded taking the “questionnaire” again. I thanked her, and then she said that they were looking to fill a position in Cosmetics. At that moment, I'm pretty sure an elated look came over my face, I said, "Ooooh!", maybe I even squealed softly, and then almost fell over.

On my way out, my Blackberry spoke. It was an email from Macy’s saying that my application was successful. I went back into the Human Resources office, and I showed it to the HR manager. She said, “That’s good. It went through.” Successful application submittal and cosmetics! Could this day get any better?

I called Donna. I got her answering machine. I said, “I love my hair. I love you. And, Macy’s has a job opening in cosmetics!!!!”

This last year has been difficult, joyous, and one of questioning. The questions are largely ones I’ve been asking myself on a daily basis about my life. Today, I thought that perhaps the order that my life once had was destined to be reordered.

That is, I was now really living the life I was meant to, the one that would put me on a different path to a second wonderful life. Perhaps my second life was now going to be working part-time at Macy’s in cosmetics, enveloped by scents and fashion, while I wrote my great American-British-German-Polish novel and/or screenplay. To be honest, I sense that no matter what happens in my life, the raindrops will keep falling on my head; however, it’s a very good thing that I always carry my umbrella. ♥

A License Plate I Saw in the Macy’s Parking Lot That I Really Loved Note:



Maybe it’s good to be forever lost, because then you’re always trying to find your way. Or perhaps, it is good enough just to get lost every now and then, so you get a chance every so often to find your way again.

The Writing on the Wall

Blog soundtrack:



(This song gives me goose bumps. How about you? Someday I want to sing it for karaoke; karaoke is like sky diving for me, one of those things I have never done but have always wanted to do. Okay, I don’t ever want to sky dive. Sky diving is just something that strongly appeals to my Sense of Adventure; however, my whole entire body, including my brain sans the Sense of Adventure portion, would never even consider it, even if I had a few glasses of wine and someone promised me a convertible!)

When on my way to pick up Iz today from her after school program, I passed a local church. It spoke to me; churches always speak to me whether it be through their architecture or through
their little billboards announcing Sunday Sermons Yet to Come.

When these churches talk, I usually listen. Today, unlike most days, I talked back. When I drove by this sign, I said, “Don’t we all know it.”

I had gotten particularly frustrated over one potential writing gig. After getting some new information, I had to ask myself, “Is this worth it?” Would it be easier to find a new career, given what I had to go through to maybe be considered for a job that really only may be a potential job, if funding is approved, which is a decision that maybe decided in the next few months? I had to ask myself this question today. And, I’m still trying to understand my question and come to a decision!

I told a friend about my frustration. His response had me generating an alternate title for this blog. It was “Having a Chance to Tell Them Where to Stick It.” Yeah, it was a bit harsh, so that’s why I didn’t use it; however, that doesn’t mean I couldn’t tell you what I was really thinking!

One thing he said, which is nothing friends haven’t said to me before was “Make a go of your writing.” He has a day job, though he is working very hard on iPhone apps in hope of being able to bin his boring day job. It’s not that he wants to make a million dollars; I think it’s just that he would love to get paid to do something he loves. I know. Wouldn’t we all?

Though, I’ve heard it before and I’ve said it to myself a million times, today, I really heard “Make a go of your writing.” I guess this blog was the beginning of an effort to do so, and some days, I read back on my posts, and I think, “I love my blog.” It’s been an effort; and, you might say it’s been a labor of love.

So, I decided that today is the first day of the rest of my writing career. For the last 10 years, I’ve thought about three writing projects that I could undertake. They are all nothing right now, but I want to make one of them something in the next year.

1. I mentioned in another blog, I attempted to take a screenwriting course. And, I do admit to owning Screenwriting for Dummies, which masqueraded as “Taking Down the Xmas Tree for Dummies” in a prior blog. I’ve made it through the first three chapters. I would like to write a screenplay and submit that screenplay to the Nantucket Film Festival.
   
   Okay, I’m too late for this year. And, I’ve thought about this for several years, so I’m really late by many years. But, next year, I’d like to have something to submit. I thought about an idea; it involved all my girlfriends. I want to call it “Prettier Girls.”
   
   When I last got together with the Lovelies, someone said something, and I dashed to my purse, grabbed my notebook and my pen, sat back down on the couch, and I started to scribble. Someone, I think it was Cathy, said, “Oh, and you’re writing this down?!” Yes. All my friends get curious and paranoid when I pull out my notebook.
   
   I told them about my aspirations. I don’t want ‘Prettier Girls” to be a “Steel Magnolias” or a “Now and Then.” It would be a compilation of all the girlfriends in my life. Though, it was fun asking all the Lovelies who they’d chose to play them if they were portrayed in a movie.
   
   Cathy kept insisting on Bob Newhart, but by the end of the evening, I think we decided on Julianna Margulies; in most of Julianna's roles, she exudes intelligence, compassion, guts, and beauty. That’s you, Cathleen. (While I love Bob Newhart, he is not you!) Marcia, Goddess of Knowing Herself Well and Being So Very True to Herself, which I envy, had the most intriguing choice of all; she decided that she wanted an African American woman to portray her, Halle Berry to be exact. Laura wanted Ellen Degeneres or Lisa Kudrow. Anne wanted Sandra Bullock. I deemed Melissa to be Laura Linney, but then a day or two later she left me a voicemail that only asked, “Can I be Keri Russell instead?” I was told that I should be Jenna Elfman or Drew Barrymore, though I did vote for Meg Ryan before the bad plastic surgery.
   
   Later in the evening, I glanced down at my notebook and saw the following scrawled on one of its pages: “Jean smells like cat butt.” It reminded me of my quest to see (or trying to see as it happened) the big lipstick at Yale. I was driving home, and I had Nathan writing notes in my notebook for me while I was driving. Upon return, I read my notes and came upon “My mother is a dingleberry.” Ah, I love my son, I love my friends; and I know they love me. How lucky am I?
   
   
2. Nathan’s great great Aunt (maybe it’s one more great) was a wonderful and noted writer. I have read many of her books, but one I particularly loved was “The Homemaker.” The story, written in 1924, was way ahead of its time. I’d like to write a screenplay and pitch it to the Hallmark Hall of Fame.
   
   
3. The last task would be to take many of my stories and combine them into a book and try to get them published. Many of my friends have suggested this, and I know among them, Melissa has been the most vocal.

Tomorrow, I will start at #3 and work backwards. I was always one to follow the rules and order, but at this point in my life, I say, “Forget it!” Instead of wallowing in “Lack of Technical Writing Joblessness,” I will wallow in “Potential Writing Greatness.”

I have seen the writing on the wall. I have seen the writing in my notebook. I will always get by with a lot of love and support from my friends, even if I’m a dingleberry and I smell like cat butt. ♥

Sick Stuffy-Sinused She Soul Sees C.S.I. by the Sofa

Blog soundtrack:



1 box of Puff Plus: $2.59
1 can of chicken noodle soup: $2.79
1 six-pack of Fresca: $3.75
1 box of Sudafed: $5.99
1 TV remote with which to watch C.S.I. and Law & Order: Provided by Comcast for a monthly fee
Learning that you should never kiss and snuggle your fluffiest cat after applying Vaseline to your raw red nose and chapped lips: Priceless! (And might I add -- Ptooey!) ♥

Breathe Deeply

Blog soundtrack:


When I was heading into Boston on the subway the other day, I did my usual intense people watching. Unlike most times on the train, I couldn’t single out any one person to be more interesting than another. Perhaps my “character detector” was not as sharp as it usually was, because I was nervous.

I did notice one woman across from me who had her purse in one hand and was holding what looked to be a red plastic lunch bag in her other hand. It wasn’t she who intrigued me. It was her lunch bag.

On it were written all sorts of motivational and positive statements like “Breathe deeply,” “Life’s full of setbacks,” “Do one thing a day that scares you,” and “Friends are more important than money.” All good thoughts. That day it wasn’t people who were speaking to me; it was just a little red plastic lunch bag. And, sometimes the lunch bags are more friendly than the people!

Anyway, it’s funny how a lunch bag can come back to haunt you at another time; and hopefully, when it does, it’s not because of something you ate for lunch. Today, it was as if I carried that lunch bag all day but without the ham and cheese sandwich, cookies, chips, and Gatorade.

Breathe Deeply

I woke up this morning with a horrible cold again. I think it’s because I’ve been stressed about jobs, those potential and those not yet realized. It also could be that I’m waking up at 4:30 every morning and then not falling back to sleep. Anyway, it appeared that my stuffy nose did not lend itself to me breathing deeply anytime soon.

Life’s Full of Setbacks

I had made plans to go to the movies with my friend, Marcia, a fellow unemployed person; however, I felt rotten. It had been ages since I had been to the movies, and I really wanted to go. I debated for an hour with me, myself, and I about cancelling.

In the end, I decided that the desire to get out and see a movie was far greater than the desire to lie on the couch and watch Law & Order. (I know! I really was sick, wasn’t I?) Besides, I knew I’d get to look at George Clooney for an hour and a half. And, you know what they say? Starve a fever; feed George Clooney to your cold.

Besides the unemployment and George Clooney factors, I enjoy Marcia’s company immensely. She has been through a lot the past few years, yet she’s never shown any bitterness or anger. She is a loving Mom, she has gracefully learned from her past experiences and setbacks, and she embodies many beautiful qualities among them humor, honesty, compassion, and devotion.

Do One Thing a Day That Scares You

I wrote something that scared me today. Well, I was scared to write it. I am still not sure if it’ll see the light of day. But, I have some time to think it over.

Friends are More Important Than Money

After the movie, Marcia and I went to a café to share a pot of Earl Grey. Being unemployed stinks, but it’s kind of nice when you have friends to share it with. Seriously, half the fun of this last year has been seeing friends more than I ever would have if I had been working. And, on a Saturday afternoon (after I already cleaned the house during the week), there’s nothing quite like leisurely sitting in a café and drinking Earl Grey with a good friend after visions of George Clooney have danced in your head. ♥

P.S. If there’s no blog tomorrow, don’t worry. I’m not dead, George! I’m just lying on the couch being sick and watching Law & Order!

Oh, No, My Boy is Growing Up When It Feels Like He Was Just Five Years Old Two Minutes Ago Note: Nathan told me that he asked a girl, Kelsey, to the Junior prom. She said, “Yes!” Eeeeeeeeeek! First stop, prom, next stop, Grandmother! Okay, hopefully, it's not grandmother, but it's funny how the Junior prom can make you feel old!

Diamonds are a Banjo's Best Friend

Blog soundtrack:



Shortly after Christmas, I got an email from one of my good girlfriends, who was visiting her husband while he was working abroad. She told me that after spending the holidays with him and his family, he announced to her that he wanted a divorce. This all came out of left field for her, and obviously, she was quite upset.

Last week, she emailed me to ask me if I wanted to get together for lunch and a trip to Sephora. She said she wanted to get a makeover. I had hoped that what prompted this “makeover” was that she felt like doing something she’d never done before, which would be going to Sephora. Ironically, some use band-aids; and some, like me, use Sephora-aids to make the hurt go away. (There’s nothing like a new lipstick.)

I hoped she didn’t think that because of her situation there was a thing she needed to change about herself. She is most lovely and unique. There isn’t one thing I’d ever want to change about this Buster Keaton-loving banjo-playing Beauty.

Ironically, I first met her at the woman’s club I joined. She and I were “inducted” into the cult, I mean, club on the same day. I noticed her immediately, because she was under 50 years of age when the average age of most club members was 65. Finally, she was a tall Goddess. I had found one of my own!

Actually, she is an inch taller than me. Ironically, as I have traveled through this life, I always seem to make good friends with woman who are shorter than me. The tall exceptions have only been this woman and a Lovely named Anne.

Anyway, she had never been to Sephora. So, who better to take her than me, right? The next time I meet with my financial planner, I shall have to ask him if my little bit of everything includes Sephora!

Once there, we both went off to different corners of the store. I gave her some recommendations, and she went off on her own. I felt like a mother bird who had pushed her baby out of the nest, and wow, did she fly! When we met up at the register, her basket was full!

While in my corner of Sephora, I bumped into the Tarte representative, a lovely woman named Helen. I asked her how one goes about working for a cosmetics company. She gave me many good suggestions.

I told her I was unemployed, and we exchanged contact info. She was so interesting to talk to. When she got out of college, she first worked for Chanel. I love writing, but I do love fashion and all that goes with it. Oh, if I could do it all over again!

Once we left Sephora, we went to one of the most unique jewelry stores at the mall. There they had every stone under the sun mounted in earrings, necklaces, or bracelets. And, unknown to me, for the longest time, my friend had her eye on a lovely channel set diamond ring there.

She asked if she could try it on. In addition to being tall, she has long tapered fingers. She put the ring on her finger.

It looked lovely on her, and I told her that ironically, because she was musically inclined, it looked somewhat like a G cleft. And she said, “Can you imagine how great it will look when I’m playing my banjo?” I laughed out loud.

The store was having a huge sale. And the saleswoman told her that with only $159 down, she could put it on lay-away. She said she would have to have a think about it, and we both wandered about the store for a bit longer. (I love amethysts, and l saw my first green amethyst. I still love the purple ones best though.)

After another 10 minutes of browsing, she decided to get the ring. She made her down payment. And then she said, “Well, I’ll need a ring to replace my wedding ring anyway.” In my book, that was perseverance at its best, buying a ring that would go great with a banjo. Rock on, Girl. I love you. ♥

I Love Your Style

Blog soundtrack:



Today, I had a job interview in Boston. Yes, this was different from the contract job I mentioned yesterday. This job was through an agency located in Boston; however, the job was closer to home.

Some might say, “You had to go all the way into Boston?” and groan; however, [bright side of life], it was a sunny day, it was an opportunity for a full-time job, and I got to dress up!

Given that it was cold, and I had to take the T and walk a few blocks from the T station, I opted for my boring black suit (jacket and pants) instead of my vintage houndstooth suit. Since it was slushy and I’d be doing some walking, I thought it best to go with “sensible” shoes; however, I heard a voice in my head. OMGreatCatGoddess, it was Cathy’s voice, and she said, “No! Wear the houndstooth stilettos!” So, I did!

When I left the Park Street station, I walked a few blocks up Tremont Street to my final destination. I took a right turn on School Street. From the top of the street, I could see the doorman at the Omni Parker House hotel. It was apparent from eye contact that he saw me eyeing him, and then he watched me make my way down the sidewalk.

As I walked, I dodged the grates, fearing the heels of my houndstooth stilettos would be a mid-morning snack for one or more of them. And, in addition to the grates, I had to avoid the dripping water running off the buildings onto the sidewalk. Basically, I had to walk down the sidewalk like I was drunk!

As I passed the doorman, he said, “It’s kind of like a mine field out there!" I nodded. And, then I said, “Yes, especially in heels!” He laughed, and in a few yards, I arrived my final destination, Old City Hall.

When I saw the building, which was beautiful, I thought, “There’s an old City Hall?”



Just look at that beautiful mansard roof! I love architecture. It was the only class at Brandeis, taught by the wonderful Gerald Bernstein, in which I got a straight A. Unfortunately, I took the class pass/fail.

Anyway, it was ridiculous that I hadn’t thought about an old city hall, given that I always thought that the current city hall was quite unappealing and obviously something that hadn’t existed in ye olden days.

Once I arrived at the agency, I was greeted by the young woman who was going to interview me. She took me into a small conference room, and when I sat down, she said, “I love your shoes!” I thanked her, and then immediately blurted out that I had bought the shoes to match a vintage houndstooth skirt I bought on eBay.

This was the start of a 5-minute conversation about vintage, eBay, and the Manhattan Vintage Clothing show. I also pointed out the rhinestone pin on my lapel, my vintage watch, and my vintage bracelet. At the end, she said, “I love your style!”

All in all, the interview was an enjoyable hour recounting 25 years of employment. And whatever happens with it, well, que sera sera. Like Marcia, I think unemployment stinks, though I’ve tried very hard, every day (almost 365 next month), to find the good in this period of my life. Though, recently, I had one of those days where I, too, thought, “This stinks!!!!”

You want people to like you, to like your writing, and to hire you, Though, today, it wasn’t the prospect of a job that made my day. It was simply that this young woman loved my style. ♥

Happy Birthday, Jeff! ♥

Never Underestimate the Power of You

Blog soundtrack:



Blog dedication: For Jeff, who now has a blog!

As I mentioned last week, I have a chance to do a bit of contract technical writing. I was sent the documentation yesterday and asked to come up with an estimate of how long it would take me to update the guide. I thought, “No prob!”

But, there was a problem.
I had a problem.
What was my problem?

Today my problem was, and perhaps it was a life-long problem, that I totally underestimate myself when it comes to estimation and my estimation of myself. And at 9am, I thought, “Oh my Great Cat Goddess! How will I do this? Can I do this? Immediately, I answered myself with, "Don't use the Great Cat Goddess's name in vain," “I have no idea,” and “No!”

Well, when I was a full-time tech writer, I had to come up with documentation plans. But, it seemed far easier then, because I knew the material well. It’s a far greater task when the material is foreign to you, and you have to figure out exactly how much to charge or you might end up working for $4 an hour instead of $40!

Sometimes, when faced with something I’ve never done before, I immediately have a bad case of freeze tag. I’ve been tagged, and I sit there frozen in place listening to the voice in my head saying, “No way. You cannot do that.” Today, when trying to estimate how long it would take me to update this guide, I knew it was an episode of Monday Night Raw. Today's line-up was the Tentative Tech Writer versus Vicious Vacillating Voices!

So, what do you do when you’re unsure? You are exactly right. I am unsure; therefore, I google. I searched for the estimated time such an endeavor might take. Somehow after using the “estimates,” I ended up with documentation + updates = 7 months! I knew that wasn’t right. Regroup and retreat from google!

I then went back to something Suzebabe always says to me which is, “Always go with your gut.” I don’t know if it was being older or this last year had made me fearless. I think it was the latter; thus, my gut shouted back loudly to the voice in my head, “Yes way! You can do this!”

At 10am, there I was with only two sentences to describe the changes needed and a 137-page guide staring me in the face. So, I went through the book chapter-by-chapter, compared this to that based on the changes, and as the day went on, it began to look like I had estimates, realistic estimates.

To be honest, I did go into “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?” mode twice, and I contacted two of my lifelines with questions. Actually, given what advice they offered, my gut was on the right track. Nevertheless, it’s always nice when you’re stressed to have two friends nearby, even if it is only just to have their words of encouragement propping you up in your chair in front of your laptop as you turn the pages of the guide thinking “Will this take me 10 episodes of Law & Order or 20?”

Sometimes it would seem the toughest battle you fight in life is the one against yourself; it’s you versus the little voices that say, “You can’t,” “You’ll fail,” and “How could you wear the vintage houndstooth suit without the houndstooth shoes?!” Once I sent my estimates out the door, I realized that “I can,” “I’ll succeed,” and “I’ll never do that again, Cathy!” And, I won’t fight this battle with myself again. Okay, I probably will; however, I always plan on winning like I did today. ♥

Happy Birthday, Dad.

Blog soundtrack:



I do believe this was the last good CD that Elvis did; if you like Burt and Elvis, I highly recommend this CD. If I was banished to a desert island (with electricity) and could only bring 10 CDs, this would be one of them.

Happy Birthday to Richard Stanley Szymczak. And, if he had lived this long, he would have been 79 years old today.



After being without both of my parents for so long, oddly, I don’t find this post sad. Actually, I think after someone has been gone for so long that when you do think of them, it is a happy thing, a celebration of the life they lived, and the life they lived in your life.

This is what I read at my Dad’s memorial service when he died.

When Anne and I began to compose my Dad’s obituary, we were vehement about getting every fact and bit of information about my father’s life. Our brainstorming session went something like the following:

I said, “He was a radio operator in the Air Force during the Korean War.”

Anne added, “He was a consultant for Scott’s Standard Postage Stamp Catalogue for many years.”

I stated, “When he was in college, he supported himself by playing clarinet and saxophone in Polka bands.

Anne said proudly, “He was a noted philatelist and a nationally recognized authority on U.S. postal stationary.”

After we had all the facts down on paper, I read aloud the three paragraphs we had composed. And then Anne sighed. And I knew what her sigh said because I felt the very same in my heart.

She said, “Can’t we just say…well, can’t we just say somewhere in there about what a great guy he was?” I think we both realized how hard it was to try and recreate one who was so vibrant and alive in three paragraphs or less.

And, I guess more than anything, today, I want to say just that …my Dad was a great guy. Of course, you all know that. And, I think that above all, even though my Dad has died, we all have our fond memories of him. I’ll tell you one of my fondest and earliest memories of my Dad.

It was probably in grade school, and sometimes when he ran an errand, he’d announce that he was going on a “special trip”, and he’d take one of us with us. On one such special trip, I got to accompany him. He started up his eggplant Mustang, and I dashed for the front seat totally excited that the front seat was mine and not up for grabs with Julie or Jack.

I settled into the black bucket seat, and we left. As we drove, I found it hard to contain myself wondering what was the final destination of our special trip until I heard a very muffled but distinct meowing coming from somewhere in car. I said, “Dad, did you hear that?”

He gave me a funny look and asked, “What?” I said, “Didn’t you hear a cat meowing?” My Dad said, “Quiet. Let me listen.” I sat there silently, which of course has always been a stretch for me, and there it was again, that muffled meow, which sounded not unlike our family cat at the time, K.C. That was short for Kitty-Cat.

My Dad said, “Oh that! You know what, I think K.C. got in the glove compartment and is stuck there!” To which I replied, “Oh, no, Dad! We’ve got to get her out. Maybe she’s stuck!” And then there was the meow again and again.

As I got more keyed up, I noticed that meow became more audible, until I realized that it wasn’t coming from the glove compartment but from my Dad in the seat next to me! We laughed until we came to the special destination. It usually was the post office, the package store, or the nursery.

My Dad, like my mother, was a fair, kind, and loving person. He was intelligent and a quick study. I remember I once asked my Mom how my Dad knew so much about postal stationary, and she said, “Your father can take a book about something, read it in a night, and the next day he knows all about it.”

Unfortunately, my Dad never read a cookbook because his culinary repertoire included only hot dogs and baked beans or macaroni and cheese with sausages; however, when I think about it, we all looked forward to those nights. It was a welcome break from my Mom’s crock pot cookery days.

My Dad was creative, imaginative, and a very good artist. I guess my favorites were his homemade cards, which he usually adorned with a picture of his cat. A sure sign I took that I wasn’t adopted.

As a father, my Dad was not overly intrusive in our lives. He did not tell us what to do, where to go, or how to be; which I think really gave us all a very strong sense of independence. But, you always knew he was there if you needed him.

To explain my Dad’s way to me, I remember my Mom gave me an Erma Bombeck article she had cut out of the paper, which I have saved all these years. It was titled, “A Father’s Love Frequently Goes Unnoticed”. I remember being a Senior in high school, coming home from a track meet in which I didn’t do my best, and I was waiting to tell my tale of track and field woe to my Mom when she came home from work.

My Dad was outside on the porch, and he asked how I did. I hesitated, and then I poured my heart out to him. He said, “Jean, you can’t do well all the time…as long as you tried hard”, and then he handed me a can of beer, which I gladly drank. And we sat on the porch and talked until Mom came home.

My Dad was an incredibly strong person and a very practical person. His big concern with his chemotherapy was not that he’d lose his hair. It was when he could have his next vodka martini!

He lovingly cared for my mother when she was ill, and my Dad took his own illness in stride, even when bad news got worse. He was relentless to the end, trying to go to the bathroom himself, answering the phone, controlling the TV, and worrying about all of us.

My Dad was very generous, and one of the best experiences of the last year, was when my Dad helped me buy my first house. The wonderful part was not so much the house, but the way in which my relationship with my Dad became close. He was very supportive and involved.

He called me daily whether it was to see if I changed my mind again about whether I wanted the Groton house or the Ayer house, or to talk about life in general. He complaining about something in Nantucket (damn tourists!) or me complaining about a coughed up furball on the rug, or sometimes he just would leave his signature message on my answering machine. It went something like this…”Meow, meow, meow, hello, Jean, this is Benny, meow, meow!” See, I’m definitely not adopted!

I know we will all miss my father greatly.; he is truly irreplaceable. Some of you knew my mother, also. They were wonderful people.

As Julie, Jack, and I rallied around my Dad in the last months to help him go to doctor’s appointments, visit him, and in the end, care for him, I was strangely consoled as I watched myself and my siblings. My parents are now both gone, but they truly do live on in the three of us.

In Jack, I see a pragmatic wisdom, and in Julie, as she rubbed my Dad’s head and talked so gently to him, a nurturing compassion that would have made my mother so proud, and in myself, I find a responsible ebullience. We’re all my parents, and while I know we miss them greatly, their spirits truly do live on in all of us.

And when I’m alone in my house, I’m consoled by the fact that my Dad was here with me, not in the house, but in my life, and I remember not that he was tall, a good tennis player, a philatelist, a gardener, or played in a Polka band. I just remember what a great guy he was.
.
.
.
Today, I’m glad Nate and Iz have wonderful Dads in Quinn and John. And, I know this day might be sad for some; however, the way I look at it, I would never have had a birthday without my Dad’s birthday. ♥

Everything is Something Even When It's Nothing

Blog soundtrack:



Upon waking this morning, we were greeted by 6” of new snow. Given that there was no school today, Iz and I had the day to amuse ourselves. We could do lots of something and a bit of everything even if it was nothing.

After some shoveling and romping in the snow, we came in to warm up. Iz requested a warm blanket out of the dryer, but I had no such item in the dryer at the time. It was a nice thought though, and I hope, like me, Iz’s first boyfriend is an electric blanket..........until she’s 25!

Instead, our defroster of choice was hot chocolate. Iz requested her usual “not so hot” chocolate. And then she asked, “Can I have some marshmallows in it with extra marshmallows on the side?”

In about 5 minutes, she plunked her mug down on the counter and said, “I’m done!” I looked down in her mug; fifteen mini-marshmallows were gone and all that remained was the “not so hot” chocolate. And then she raced off upstairs; oh, great, I thought, Iz on marshmallows!

While cleaning up the kitchen, I heard two questionable sounds come from upstairs. Thunderbolt meowed loudly (his “Help me! Help me! Iz is taking no prisoners!” meow), and then I heard Iz running from room-to-room. There was no doubt in my mind that she was “In Search of” feline companionship, and when Thundie complained, she was then off “In Search of” Plume.

I yelled upstairs and asked, “Iz, what ARE you doing?”
She replied, “Nothing!!!!”
But, nothing is always something when it involves Iz.

I went upstairs to investigate, and I found Iz here.



I asked, “Why are you under there?” She answered, “Cuz I felt like it.” Given my vast C.S.I. and Law & Order experience, I sensed the perp was doing her best to remove herself from the crime scene (wedged under Nathan’s bed trying to pull Plume out) and give herself a credible (cough, cough) alibi.

I knew then that it was time to find an activity for the two of us. Just then I had a thought. Like taking down the Christmas tree, I had also avoided dusting my room for the last few months. The vintage box purse doesn’t lie!



So, I flipped my "Who are you? Who, who, who, who?" dial to actress, instead of Mom, and I said, “Hey, how fun would it be to dust and organize my bureau?” Amazingly, Iz shouted, “I want to help!”

Okay, so you'll be happy to know, the Great Cat Goddess really got me for that one. Iz began to rummage through my jewelry, pulled out my diamond heart pendant, and asked, “Can I have this when you don’t need it anymore?” She then found a pair of Halloween cat earrings, which I had gotten when I thought she might get her ears pierced, and said as if she was accusing me of grand larceny, “Mommy, these are mine!

After about 10 minutes, I realized that dusting might not be a completed task today, given the rate of questions and the answers I had to provide. When Iz found my basket of vintage watches and my vintage rhinestone pins, she exclaimed, “Oh, my gosh, Mom! You really have like everything in the whole wide world!”

I looked up from the pile of lingerie I was sorting, looked at her while she put on my vintage locket watch and then waved her arm around admiring its beauty, and I said, “You know, Iz. I really do have everything in the whole wide world,” and then I went over and kissed her. ♥

End blog soundtrack (my favorite version):

The National Izquirer

Blog soundtrack:



Iz asks a lot of question. I like to call most of them brain-numbing; that is, I really have to think about the answer or how I will answer after she asks a question out-of-the-blue, like “Is it raining in Florida?”

Usually, most of her question are good questions. And, I concluded a while ago that with her questions, she’s just trying to figure out life. Little does she know that figuring out life is what most of us still continue to do on a daily basis.

After we dropped Nathan off at the high school to catch the bus to the hockey game, Iz said, “Daddy said when he was 28 that he didn’t want kids.”

I said, “Really?” (Now I knew he probably meant he didn’t want kids at that point not that he didn’t ever want kids.)
She asked, “If Daddy didn’t have kids, where would I be?”

Whoa. I didn’t see that coming. I sensed this might turn into a birds and bees conversation. I recalled one with Nathan when his stepmother became pregnant.

I tried to explain the egg and seed concept at a very high level to Nathan. Nathan then asked, “How did the seeds get there? Did she swallow them?” I laughed to myself, and then I knew that it was too early for this conversation. I did what every good parent does in this delicate situation. I changed the subject by asking, “So, do want to get a Happy Meal for dinner tonight?!”

Anyway, I said to Iz, pondering whether to be honest or give a very general answer that might not produce more questions, "You wouldn't be." Alas, Iz is just too damn smart for me!

She said, “No. I’d still be in your tummy and Quinn would be my Dad.”
I said, “Well, um,” and before I could say anymore she asked, “You have an ex-husband?”
I felt like I was on a Barbara Walter’s special, when I answered, “Yes” in shock.
She then asked, “Why did you break up?”
I then said, “Since when are you working for the National Enquirer, Iz?!” In about five seconds, I got over my surprise at her question, and I said, “I’ll tell you someday, Iz.”
She said, “Okay.”

To be honest, I had to think about the answer myself. Despite being brain-numbing, her questions always gave me pause for thought, deep and good thoughts. Sometimes I wondered whether I gave birth to a beautiful little girl or a beautiful little girl who always reminded me to think about everything in life. Actually, it was both.

Every now and then, I can’t believe I have an almost seven-year-old. (When my Mom was my age, I was 21!) It’s funny though, because even though I know how old I am, I never feel old.

With Iz, I feel that I was given a second chance at life; I was destined to be in her life and she was destined to be in mine. Some days, I do feel old when I look at my driver’s license or when I send off a check for my high school reunion; however, most days I think half the reason I don’t feel or look my age is because of this beautiful little girl, Iz. ♥

The Power of Xmas Plastic Bags and Buttery Butterscotch Cut-outs, Don’t Stop Believin’ Note: On the way home from the hockey game today, Nate texted me to tell me that they won 3-1. He said he’d be back in 30 minutes to which I responded “K.” Then he texted back: “The lunches were a big hit.” Super Hockey Mom! I’ve got my helmet. Now, where’s my cape?! ♥

End blog soundtrack (still messing around in the 80s):

Two is Enough

Blog soundtrack:



Today, I actually had a task that had to be completed. I could not put it off like taking down the Christmas tree. I had to make nine lunches for my nine boys. And, the task made me glad I don’t have nine children!

You: Why did you make nine lunches, Jean?
Me: Tomorrow, I have to feed nine hungry boys lunch.
You: But, I thought you only had one hungry boy?
Me: I do.
You: Hey, did he get his license yet?
Me: Nooooooooooooo!
You: So, who are these boys you’re feeding?
Me: Well, tomorrow, I have to feed half of Nate’s hockey team; well, they’re really only my boys for the time it takes nine hungry hockey players* to wolf down their brown bag lunches after their away hockey game. So, how long do you think that is?
You: Probably like 3 minutes.
Me: I think you’re right!

*All the parents share the responsibility of providing lunch/dinner for the away games. When I signed up after Christmas, I was told the lunch/dinner would comprise “a drink, a sandwich (ham and cheese or turkey), chips, and cookies.” Apparently, this was the combination for making the perfect “Happy Meal” for a high school hockey player.

So, at 1pm, I put on my Hockey Mom helmet and began to assemble my nine lunches.

I made five ham and cheese and four turkey sandwiches.



I included nine packages of Pringles.



I put nine bottles of Gatorade in the refrigerator.



And, then there were the four blobs of butterscotch cookie dough with which to make my kick-ass signature cookies.



I decided that even if eight of these boys weren’t mine, I still could provide some support and encouragement in the form of homemade cookies instead of Oreos or Chips Ahoy. And, if anything, with the team’s 1-5 record, the cookies might help make facing the opponent a tad sweeter tomorrow. ♥

Nathan is a Hello Kitty Grinch Even Though I Fully Support His Flying Spaghetti Monster Note: I asked Nathan if I could put the cookies in these bags.



He said, “No!”
I looked at him like Iz looks at me when I tell her we can’t go to Sephora.
He said, “No, Mom!!!!!!”
Can you believe it?!

He did allow me to use my holiday plastic bags for the lunches though, so he’s not totally against the First Amendment, the right of his mother to freely be creative.

Thank.Goddess.It's.Fabulous.

Begin blog soundtrack:



It’s Friday; thus, it’s back to the 80s in the music department, courtesy of my “80s New Wave” CD I found under a pile o’ stuff today. I did love the 80s; at Brandeis, I loved volleyball, Bitsy (my dearest friend), and my first boyfriend, Robert.

Once I graduated, I loved working at Digital. There I met Skip, Suze, and fell in love with Quinn, Nathan’s Dad, and cycling because of Quinn. The 80s were very good to me because of all that. And, as I listened to my CD, I thought, “Thank Goddess, it’s fabulous!” ♥

Kitty Milestone

Today, Plume ventured down to the first floor to eat with Liam and Thunderbolt. She also went down to the basement to use the litter box. Given that when she first arrived, she couldn’t get beyond Nathan’s room, this was a big deal. And, I thought, “Thank Goddess, it’s fabulous!” ♥

Mid-blog soundtrack:



Dust Kitty Milestone

When I was employed, I had someone to clean my house once a week. It seemed grandiose then, but it was the only way I could work and feel good about going home.

If truth be told, I hated giving up cleaning the house. Cleaning the house had always been cathartic for me. It gave me a sense of order and control when I sometimes felt there was none.

But now, because I was unemployed, I got to clean the whole house…and Iz’s room. Today, I threw away two bags of stuffed animals, which she never missed upon arrival home, vacuumed the upstairs, and then I vacuumed the downstairs.

And while I vacuum once a week, I’m still not sure how these dust kitties evolve. The ones I found were huge. They were almost as big as Liam and Thundie. Okay, no, they really weren’t. But, they were the size of Plume’s tail, which was pretty scary!

Anyway, by 3pm today, my whole house was clean. If I had a job, it probably would have taken me the whole weekend to clean it on my own; however, it was stellar now, and I had the whole weekend to not clean the house. And, I thought, “Thank Goddess, it’s fabulous!” ♥

Job Hunting Milestone

Out of the blue, I got a bite on a contract tech writing gig through someone I worked with 10 years ago. He called me today. He asked if I had ever seen “Pay It Forward.”

I said I had. (And, I also like to say that I believe in saying it forward.) He told me how when job opportunities came by, he liked to find people in his past and offer them these opportunities. I thought that today I should consider myself fortunate to be paid forward.

And, I swear when he said "screen captures" on the phone, it was like he was talking about a dearly missed old friend of mine. Screen captures! How I longed to see them again!

I have to talk to him next week about the details, but I can’t tell you how much just the thought of having a potential job motivated me. When I went to the gym, it empowered me. I ran 4.5 miles in 40 minutes, though the 80s new wave soundtrack was hugely motivational, too. And, I thought, “Thank Goddess; it’s fabulous!” ♥

End blog soundtrack: