Season Jumping

Season Jumping

It's not yet August (although very close) and if you haven't been in a store for a while or looked at any of the paper's advertisements then you've missed the fact that it's already Back to School time. Aisles in stores are crammed with pencils, papers, notebooks, backpacks and lunch boxes.  By my calendar I believe the kids have at least another 30 days before the school bell rings.  As a mother of three sons I know that it doesn't take a month to gather up the needed supplies.  One trip through any discount store and you'll be able to outfit your little scholar with more things than he/she could possibly need.

I predict that winter coats will soon take the place of swimming suits in stores.  So if you think you're going to need a replacement suit - better buy it quick - before they've been packed up for the winter - by say September 1st?  Also, here's a news flash for the stores.  When it's 100 outside the last thing I want to look at, much less try on, is a new winter coat, boots, gloves or hats.  I know that if you shop when the new stocks hits the stores the selection is better - but no thanks for me.

I've also noticed a lot of distinct green, gold and rust-colored items in stores, a sure sign that autumn is about 2 months away!  Don't you want to be the first person on your block to put up a wreath of fall leaves?  I didn't think so.

I love the change of seasons as much as the next person but I don't believe that I need to do my Halloween shopping in September or buy my Christmas cards in October.  I believe there is a song that says "to everything there is a season".  So why can't the stores just allow us to enjoy the FULL season instead of continuously cutting it short.  Oh I know it's all about money but seriously give us consumers a chance to enjoy ALL of summer and ALL of fall before springing Christmas on us.

I confess that I do make a small exception for Christmas.  Or part of Christmas.  Not the decorating part - nope just the gift buying.  And over the weekend I bought my first gift - a camera for Benjamin.  Why do I do that?  Because I have learned over the years that it takes time - a lot of time - to buy the right gift(s) for the right people.  And the days between Thanksgiving and Christmas just aren't enough time to peruse my on line shopping options.  If I shop early then I'm not in a panic over slow shipping or a lost package, etc.  Since the boys are grown I'm able to stack up my gifts in the spare room and won't misplace them as I have in the past!

So people you better start hitting the stores today - there are only 146 days left until Christmas!  

P

Wegman's

7/30/12

Wegman's

Yesterday, since Jeff and I were headed to Frederick to go get gas at Costco, I suggested a second stop at Wegman's.  I had been there once before but at the time we had with us a hungry grandson and the trip through the store was hurried.

When you enter the store it's an "ah" moment.  It's so big, clean and bright.  It's wonderful to shop somewhere where your feet don't stick to the floor.  And there are these amazing creatures called store employees who are everywhere and all ready to help you.  We had a manager of sorts (black shirt) who took us not once but TWICE to find products.  Jeff and I took our time and went up each and every aisle and it was a glorious experience.

There were exotic spices, mustards, spices, sauce and cheeses I've never seen.  Oh to be sure they have the usual stuff - you can buy cornflakes there, or plain yellow mustard - but why would you?  You can buy the regular products anywhere.  No, Wegman's is where you shop when you want something different.

The seafood is amazing - how many different ways are there to serve salmon - a lot I'm hear to report. The bread and bakery aisles were mind boggling with the offerings.  Fruit tarts, eclairs, cheesecake, carrot cake, pies, cookies, turnovers and scones just to mention a few.  We had to leave that aisle quickly - there's a very strong pull for me there.

I had opted for a small cart confident that at the most we would pick up one or two token items to take home to try.  Nope, the little cart was overflowing with goodies - fig and almond cake from Spain, fresh sundried tomato Tilapia for dinner, Quonia, fresh sesame chicken and noodles for lunch and on and on.

After filling our little cart we hit the mother lode - the self serve food court.  The offerings were many and everything looked amazing.  Pizza, oriental, vegetarian, comfort-type food, sandwiches, salads and soups.  Jeff and I opted for spicy Mexican crab soup which was wonderful.  

Going through checkout was quick, friendly and painless.  I'm sure we weren't their largest spending customer that day based on the large overflowing carts around us - but we might well have been the most awe struck.  And we'll be back.  With the thought that when they do finish their store in Germantown - the old credit card could be in trouble - regularly.

So, if you haven't been - do yourself a favor - go. You won't be disappointed I promise.

P

Angels?

Angels?

Seems appropriate to write about angels on a Sunday don't you think?  Are you a believer?  The heaven kind or earth kind?  I'm going to talk to you about why I believe that angels, in one form or another, are with us - here on earth.

My father contended that once he had passed away he was going to heaven (fingers crossed on that he said) and was going to be in charge of angel wing's and would make sure to save me a pair.  I'm not sure that when my time comes I'm going to see Dad in shipping and receiving passing out wings - but it's a nice picture - and helps me out when I start to miss him, even after all these years.

Today, I'm going to tell you about a woman who was not in my life, had no reason to be in my life and yet one day there she was.  She needs no name, because she already knows who she is for I've talked about out meeting many times.

At a low point in my life, right after Benjamin was born, a woman in my neighborhood, who I only waved to when passing by her house, walked into my life - literally.  I was out walking Benjamin because I was going stir crazy at home, had a death grip on his stroller insert because I was pretty sure that I hadn’t secured it properly, crying with frustration and there she was.  This neighbor saw us going by her house, came running after us and the rest is, as they say, history.

This neighbor followed us home and came into the house and fed Benjamin – and yet I still didn’t know her name.  I knew she had lived in the neighborhood for years, had children and a dog - that's all I knew.  This kind woman offered to keep Benjamin during the weekends or overnight occasionally to give Jeff and I a rest. Eventually, suffering from massive sleep deprivation I allowed her this privilege and it was a win-win for everybody.

This woman has in the past four years been a rock to me.  She has listened to me rant and rave, cry and shout.  She has kept Benjamin at her house countless times and he loves it there and on one occasion she even took him with her on their  family vacation.  Benjamin has been and continues to be showered with love and affection in her home and her children (all teenagers and beyond) love him like a little brother and are always anxious to see him.

I had nothing in common with her four years ago and today our commonality is Benjamin.  I'm older, sedentary, work outside of my home, reclusive and prone to depression.  She accepts and understands these things about me.  From day one I was honest with her that I don’t “pop” in to visit and I don’t make phone calls. When you work in an office all day the last thing you want to do when you come home is talk on that stupid telephone.  I admire this woman's many amazing qualities, her boundless energy, her willingness to help anyone anytime and a zest for life that I wish I had (or ever had quite frankly).

The fact that she came into my life when I needed somebody makes me believe that there is some kind of higher power or fate (whatever you want to call it) at work.  Otherwise, how can you explain her literally appearing in my life and remaining there.  There was no likelihood that she and I would meet and become friends and yet we did. 

Nope, I’m convinced that when you need it the most – an angel in the form of a human – appears. I am convinced that this wonderful woman was placed in my path on purpose. 

My thanks to whomever sent me an angel.  I will spend the rest of my life trying to be an angel to someone.

P

Naps

728/2012

Naps

Naps should be mandatory - for everybody - every day.  Think how rested we all would be and probably nicer too!  We'd wake up rejuvenated and ready to take on the remainder of the challenges of the day.  And the good news is that naps can be taken just about anywhere.

Just ask Jeff about me and a moving vehicle (plane, train, bus or car).  I can sometimes be asleep or well on my way to "z" land before we leave our street.  There is something just so relaxing about being bobbed around inside a vehicle.  I even have a little neck pillow because Jeff is convinced that one day my head is going to snap off my body - pretty sure it won't - but nice of him to worry.

Now come weekends we're talking about serious napping - even planned napping.  Knowing that as soon as lunch is over, you COULD head upstairs,close the blinds, gather up the animals (and they're always ready to nap), pull the covers down and sink in.  I don't know about you but when I take a nap sleep comes easily and I get a couple of hours of very deep and restful zzzzzz's.  Why this doesn't happen at night I have no idea.

When I put new blinds in our bedroom I opted for room darkening because I wanted the bedroom to be black as pitch when I go to sleep, whether it be 1:00 in the afternoon or 10:00 at night. 

Napping on the sofa is okay and it's where my mother always took her naps.  Of course, we children never thought of it as real sleeping so always felt free to bother her with some small trivial piece of nonsense.  And, she never used a blanket.  I always, even in the deepest part of summer, have to have a little something to throw over the top of me, particularly my feet.

So Saturday is here.  I checked my calendar (twice) and once I get my two mandatory obligations out of the way in the morning - I'm free.  Perhaps I'll gather up the dogs, get my nap blanket and snuggle down for an hour or so.

Enjoy your weekend - live dangerously - take a nap.  You'll feel better for it.

P

Writing Class

7/27/2012

Writing Class

I take class after class after class all centered around one thing - you guessed it - writing.  And still I can't seem to quite get off the dime (or the sofa) and do something with all I've learned.  Why?  Oh that horrible "R" word keeps popping up in my head - rejection.  My self-confidence is fragile and if I don't put myself out there, then I can't be or will be rejected.  Almost sounds like a plan - except for that one little thing - I'll never actually see my name in print.  Unless signatures on checks or credit card slips count!

I do all my assignments in record time and receive positive feedback from my instructors who constantly encourage me to send query letters out to magazines and yet I do nothing. Nothing is easy, nothing takes no effort and requires, interestingly enough, nothing from me.  Of course with that attitude guess what I'm going to receive in return - you guessed it - nothing.

I wonder if I will just sit on my creative ideas forever.  Jeff printed out for me the first three segments of Wilma last night.  It's a staggering amount of paper but I must read it in print in order to see where the logic of the story sags.  I have found or developed a new antagonist for Wilma and that revised portion of the story I like very much.  Does it all make sense?  Well probably not yet, but that's where cold proof reading comes in - and after all, it's fiction so how much sense does it have to make?

Is Wilma the next great American novel?  I doubt it, but I know this with 100% certainty - if I do NOTHING - then I'm guaranteed to never know.  I can't send out a query for Wilma when she is unfinished because, heaven forbid I were to get a nibble and then get such a case of writer's block that I can't finish the book - talk about pressure to perform.

So here I sit surrounded by paper, stories, thoughts and ideas.  All I have to do is put blank ink on white paper, how hard can that be?  Apparently, harder than you and I think.  

So back to the writing tablet for me.  Have a great Friday.

P

Man Up

7/26/2012

Man Up

When does someone take ownership of their life?  Is it automatically at 21?  Or in some cases when they're older?  And if they have to be older - how much older?

And more importantly when does my parenting take a back seat or possibly I fall off the wagon entirely?   I may be wrong here; but, I don't think that my parents worried incessantly over us kids, particularly after we were all married.  Once the apron strings were cut - they were cut.  We didn't overly solicit advice from our parents and they were never forthcoming with any.  Some things about my generation went completely over my parents' heads so it's doubtful that they would have been much help anyway.

So here I am at 62 still dragging around various bits and pieces of my family.  I'm still listening to loud and angry phone calls as well as similar diatribes in person.  I'm still wearing my referee shirt trying to keep oil from water which everyone knows doesn't mix - never has - never will.  So I wonder what I'm made out of?  Rubber?  Good choice since I seem to spend my time bouncing around from side-to-side trying to be objective and fair.

I wish someone could tell me when it's time to man up.  You know when you stand back up after getting knocked on the chin, learn from past mistakes and try to do better in the future.  That kind of man up.  I cannot see myself in my rocking chair at Shady Acres Rest Home still trying to resolve problems for adult children.  Why my hair hasn't gone completely white by now is a near constant wonder to both me and my friends.

I don't blame anybody else for my troubles.  It's me - I need to just stand up, take a deep breath and tell my family to stop raining on my parade.  Maybe it's time for me to "man up".  I want a life that is preferably a little less heavy than the one I'm dragging around with me currently.

Maybe someday I won't need to constantly take anti-anxiety medicine every day coupled with higher and higher doses of blood pressure medicine.  Maybe some day I'll be light-hearted and will be able to engage in more fun and less work.  Until then it's game on.

Shoes

7/25/2012

Shoes

Shoes – women love them and we have to have them - lots of them.  Men, bless their hearts, don’t understand.  Women believe there is no such thing as too many shoes.  You need them in a variety of heel heights, fabrics, leathers, colors, sandals, pumps and everything in between.

When I was a teenager I was a girly-girl.  Lucky for me both my father and mother supported my enthusiasm for a growing closet of clothes and shoes.  In the 60’s everything was matchy-matchy and your shoes, at the very least, had to compliment your outfit.  If the shoes matched in color so much the better.  So I ended up my high school years with caramel, green, red, white, tan, pink, brown and fuchsia shoes, in addition to the normal black and navy. There were heels which in the 60’s was practically a requirement when going out, t-straps, Mary Janes and shoes with buckles and bows.  All were beautiful, all were needed. 

Fast forward to married life and husbands don’t seem to understand as well as fathers do that multiple pair of shoes are simple necessities of life.  While I may no longer feel the need for pink shoes, I certainly do need navy, black, brown, tan, white, red and perhaps a really fun pair of mixed colors.  I guess having ONE of each of those colors of shoes wouldn’t be too bad; but I, like most women, need multiple pairs of each color.  You need tie shoes, slip on shoes, pumps, heels, sandals and flats.  Jeff calls me Imelda Marcos but he has no idea how few shoes I really have.  Compared to some women who have their closets lined up with shoe boxes, my 30 or so pairs  is just a drop in the bucket.  

The shoe issue is never more prevalent then when we are going to take a trip - in  the plane - with limited space and weight requirements.  I look at the agenda and know that I will need walking shoes, cocktail hour and banquet dinner shoes, sandals and something to wear to the pool and/or beach.  Oh plus the pair that I will actually fly in.  Extra shoes could in fact fill a small suitcase if you're not careful.

Jeff on the other hand brings two pair of shoes - max.  The pair that he's wearing when we leave home that he makes accommodate any social situation and a pair of flip flops for the pool. And he's good.  Issue solved.

Lucky for Jeff I don’t fall victim to the latest shoe fashions any longer.  I am now more or less a Birkenstock and SAS shoe wearer, for comfort and less fashion.  Luckily, for me both manufacturers have stepped up their looks and they now have some shoes that are more “with it” than before.  Birkenstocks used to be the hippie shoe and about as stylish as the box they came in.  This summer though I found some thonged Birkenstocks that have brought me many compliments at work as ladies can’t believe they are from the hippie shoe manufacturer. As for heels, I haven't worn any in years and years and sold my last few remaining pairs at a garage sale a few years ago.  Now my "going out" shoe is more of a one inch block heel that doesn't give me the wobbles.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go upstairs and rearrange my shoes - by color.

P

Harassment

Harassment

Harassment comes in many forms and affects all people differently.  As a younger office worker I was subjected to harassment on a few occasions.  I never reported it because in those days it was a big deal if you used the “h” word and most companies didn’t know what to do with you if you did.

I once worked in a personnel department with younger women.  I seem to always work with younger women – could be because I’m always older!  Anyway, we had a macho man that used to come into the office, shirt partially unbuttoned (this was the 70’s after all), gold necklaces gleaming and to give him credit he wasn’t a bad looking guy.  But he was arrogant and rude.  He used to “suggest” to the ladies that one of the outer offices were empty – “wink wink” and he had time.  The girls were horrified with his behavior and frankly afraid when he came in to the personnel department.  The fact that he conducted his behavior in the personnel department (that's what they were called in the dark ages) is remarkable.

I took care of the problem without ever having to engage management or even reprimand this young man’s behavior.  The next time he came into the office for “wink wink” alone time, I stood up, grabbed him by his silky unbuttoned shirt and told him that he was right.  My boss was out and we had time for a quick go at it.  He didn’t just leave – he fled.  I never think about this that I don’t still chuckle.  He didn’t really want to have a fling with anybody, he just wanted to embarrass young women.  I’m happy to report that on the few occasions after our interlude that he came in, he was the perfect gentleman.  Problem solved.

Another form of harassment that I suffered, could be called hazing for lack of a better word.  Or perhaps it was let’s see how stupid the new girl is.  The new girl was me in a trailer full of male engineers.  One afternoon one of the engineers came to me with a number, a very large number and told me that he needed it divided until the answer came out to zero and could I help out.  Math never having been my strong suit, but eager to please, I took this massive number and spent the entire rest of the afternoon pouring out spools of adding machine tape trying to come to zero.  At the end of the day I reported sadly to the engineer that I had tried but hadn’t been successful and I apologized for my failure.  The entire room broke out in laughter because apparently this was a joke – the number would never have gone to zero – I just didn’t know this.  I burned from embarrassment and humiliation that I had been the butt of somebody’s joke.  Many years later I still wonder why somebody would do that because it was mean and hurtful.   Did I report it – no, there was no point.  What was I going to say - the engineers gave me a math problem and I couldn't solve it and it was all a joke?  It even sounds lame to my ears. The job turned out to be one of my shorter ones but I hated each and every day that I went to work, a situation I have never been in since.  

Other things have come up over the years but each time I have been able to handle it by myself before the situation got out of hand.  Sometimes I believe harassment is nothing more than to see how much another person will put up with.  Will they fold, ignore it, seek revenge or report it?  I’ve always opted to go about my business quietly and find that the older I get the less I’m bothered by jokesters.  But if I was harassed today I believe I would still be able to fix the problem quickly and without a lot of noise.  Remember, it’s your reaction that they’re looking for – so if possible don’t react.

Happy Tuesday.

P

Typing

Typing

I type for a living and I type well. It may be more word processing and less typing now; but I still call it typing. And I have been typing since forever.

I started typing in junior high on a manual typewriter that will build up your pinky fingers in no time flat.  You need strong pinkies if you are going to pres the “a or p” keys. Once in high school, the typewriters had at least become electric and untold hours were spent doing timed tests for typing speed and accuracy.  I had a business teacher during high school that told us girls if we wanted to be secretaries than we had to be the best money could buy.  I have never forgotten her words and they have served me well for over 40 years.  I have never been without work for very long all though I have in the past turned down jobs that didn’t seem like a reasonable fit to me. One company said that excess chatter was frowned upon.  I knew right then that I couldn’t work there. I told them that I lived for excess chatter and would be perpetually in trouble.   Another office manager told me that she only explained things ONCE and you had better get it – didn’t take that job either. 

Job interviews always come with a typing test and they are annoying.  I have never taken a typing test that I didn’t complete the page, have to take the page out, turn it over and start again.  Sometimes I did this twice. One test I had was sitting at a rickety old metal typing table and I thought the poor table was going to shake it itself to death.  I shared these thoughts with the interviewer. I didn’t take the job.

Another time the keyboard on the computer was so sluggish that it never fully kept up with me.  At the end of my test my score was very high until you counted up all the run on words and sentences.  I was asked if I’d like to take the test again – nope – there would be no difference.  The keyboard just can’t keep up.  I got that job by the way.

I am grateful to the bosses who took a chance on somebody with no knowledge of the work (i.e., insurance claims or patent law both come to mind).  I don’t believe I disappointed either firms and stayed on with each of them for many years.

I know that I am likely working at my last full-time job now.  I believe I will know when it’s time to hang up the keyboard; but that time hasn’t arrived just yet.  While my memory may be lagging a bit, there is nothing wrong with the key pounding I am still able to do.  I love nothing more than typing straight text an opportunity that is rare these days and that I miss.  Now the assignments are more likely to be add headers and footers and correct the formatting which by the time I get a document has really gone downhill.  Dull stuff like that. 

I’ll keep typing, you keep reading – deal?

P

Sunday Morning

7/22/12

Sunday Morning

It looks, but doesn't feel, like the fall.  It's very gray outside and it rained most of yesterday.  A rainy Saturday or Sunday are good things sometimes.  You feel no inclination or need to work outside - it's raining after all.  Yesterday, I made jambalaya heavy on the shrimp, sausage and spice.  Jeff and I can't seem to make "normal" portions of soups and stews so there is no enough jambalaya in the fridge to feed us and/or another family for several days.  Perhaps I will freeze some so that the next time we get a hankering for the South, we'll just defrost.

Slept in today until 7:00 - half the day's gone already.  I "read" the paper which is generally pretty depressing, particularly with all the Colorado news.  I have spent my time marking up the tv guide for the week, I don't want to be unprepared when a new cooking/food/craft show comes on and lucky for me there is a new cooking show coming on.  Yeah.

Jeff glued the hand and umbrella back on one of my clowns yesterday and did an expert job.  I don't believe when I bought the clown off of Ebay that the seller disclosed that not just one but both hands had been broken off and glued back.  Had I known this, or paid more attention, I would have immediately moved him to the CDS (clown disabled shelf) and my cleaning lady, who is new, already knows you don't touch them ever.  I may have to make a second shelf; because, the first one is getting kind of full.  

Today, is paper pushing day - personal and business.  There are bills to be paid, bank statements to be reconciled, papers to be filed, time sheets to be prepared and letters to be written.  Jeff and I could spend entire days up in the office and never be done - because the work is never done and never will be.  It's as simple as that.  And knowing this it's about as much fun to work in the office as it is to visit your dentist (and no offense to any dentists out there).  

I hear the beep of the coffee pot, so I'm going to fill up my warmed over from yesterday coffee with some fresh stuff and avoid cleaning the kitchen - just yet.  It's raining outside - I have time.  Have a wonderful Sunday.

P

No Woman's Land - The Basement

7/21/2012

No Woman's Land - The Basement

I have a large, unfinished but completely filled up basement. The basement is nearly chock full of "man" things - tools (manual and power - but mostly Tim-Allen sized power), equipment, computer stuff and more computer stuff, cables, wiring and other things that I have no idea what they are or what they do.  And the men in my life like it that way.  They don't want or need me pussyfooting around in "their" space.  Oh wait there is a small clarification - it's okay for me to go to the freezer to forage for dinner - that is, after all MY domain.

Jeff and I in our nearly 38 years of marriage have accumulated some STUFF and unfortunately (in some cases) lots of it.  We each in our own way hoard things.  I believe that all my beautiful glass and collectibles will prove to be an asset to the boys when it's time to get rid of everything.  I believe that most of Jeff's "treasures" will be valuable only to the 1-800-GOTJUNK company or perhaps the Smithsonian.  It has been a longstanding, mild and often humorous disagreement through the years and one that will never be resolved - at least while the two of us are still breathing.

To be fair, we have from time to time gone down to the basement together and tried to sort through some of our papers from years long past.  Like canceled checks from 1974 through say 1986.  Why do we still have them you ask?  Because frankly neither one of us can bear to part with them.  Again you ask why?  Every time we go through the checks we see the weekly checks we wrote to the Gingerbread House for $25.00 (daycare), checks we wrote for groceries and other daily living essentials.  So once we open up the canceled check box(s) we are both sent backward in time.  A time that right now we think of as peaceful (and it really wasn't all that peaceful, think 3 boys).  We remember a time when the boys were young, we were younger and were in the business of establishing ourselves as a family.

I know that someday Jeff and I will have to bite the bullet and let these pieces of paper go.  After all, they are merely pieces of paper and by shredding them it will in no way reduce our memories of the early Bassett years.  We just think it will.