Tennis Memories

I've been watching the US Open and it's brought back some great tennis moments for me.

Back in the late 80s, when I worked for the giant evil corporation, I got to attend a match at Centre Court at Wimbledon.

What I remember most was how green it all seemed. And small.
I called it intimate so as to not be a total ugly American.
I loved it. The weather was cloudy and cool and the people were delightful.
I have no recollection of who was playing. Two guys in white.

I'm so glad I got to Centre Court before it was renovated.

 Then

Now

I've also attended the US Open a few times. Again, thanks to work - schlep some clients to the good seats and be lady like.

The Tennis Center in NYC is amazing. A park full of things to do even if you don't have a match ticket.

Arthur Ashe Stadium

I sat a few rows behind Barbra Streisand during an Agassi match. That was fun.

He had hair back then

I don't follow tennis regularly so I don't know a lot about the sport or the players.

A friend does Breakfast at Wimbledon every year and we all get together wearing silk PJs; we drink a lot and talk about the player's form. Not their tennis form; their arms, shoulders and butts.

In addition to Agassi I love Serena Williams.

Fierce

I have tons of photos from all my UK trips. I have to get them out of the closet from hell and scanned so I can share them.

Slowly Going Postal?

No, I’m not going on a rampage – not today anyway.

I’m wondering about the United States Postal Service.

In the eight years I have lived in NJ I have never had any problems with my mail service. My regular mail carrier is the greatest guy, he’s on time, he’s friendly, he knows his route, he’s helpful.

Stuff goes out, stuff comes in.

In the past 2 months all of that has changed.

There seems to be a new carrier every other day.

A package sent to me from NY was misrouted to San Jose, CA. It left NY on 3/24, arrived in San Jose on 3/26 and hasn’t been heard from since.

Makes me think of that Dionne Warwick song – ‘Do you know the way from San Jose?’

On April 4th I sent an order form to a company in upstate NY. Yesterday I called to check on my order – they never got it. The customer service rep said many orders from NJ had not arrived.

I sent a birthday card to Brooklyn. It took 12 days to get there.

My brother in Brooklyn sent me a letter; it took a week to get here.

My accountant has decided to use UPS – too many tax packages were being delayed.

This is all anecdotal and as a researcher I know that anecdotal evidence carries little weight. But it makes me wonder.

I did several Google searches:
USPS service delays
USPS job action
USPS work slowdown
Postal workers
Postal workers union

The most entertaining thing I found was a story about a cat in the Mid West. The cat sleeps all day except for the few moments each day when he awakes to terrorize the mail carrier.

I found the usual array of right wing sites demonizing the unions and the government. Comparing postal service to healthcare. Calling for privatization. Barking about big government.

I’m a union Mom. At one of my very first jobs I was part of an attempt to unionize the workers. We lost. I lost my job.

I also found some blogs and forums written by postal workers. The stories of mismanagement and budgets being played with and numbers being hidden and misrepresented were all too familiar to me.

I worked for a large corporation. I was on the board. We spent more time playing with the numbers and screwing the staff than we did on providing the services we advertised.

If I ever had to take a side my side will always be with the mail carriers. I know there may be some who are lazy, who are con artists, who have no motivation. That is humanity.

What is not humanity is this country’s continuous shift away from being a society that actually produces anything. Workers used to be regarded as the backbone of any company – now they’re digits on a profit and loss statement, there solely to be played with in Excel. There was a time when loyalty and hard work were rewarded.

Now – not so much.

Just look at Wall Street. Lie. Cheat. Get a bonus.

I will always believe that this ...



has more value than this ...

It's Just A Stack Of Papers But ...

I can think of a lot to post about - what with all the Republican shenanigans and the inability of people with money to pay their taxes correctly - and Wells Fargo almost got away with having an executive retreat in Vegas - and Micheal Phelps isn't allowed to make a mistake - oh the list goes on and on ...

But somewhere through the middle of any post I write I just drift away. My research isn't as good as I strive for, I start to sound whiny or mean spirited - or both.

It has become (literally) painfully apparent that I can't work the way I always have. I stopped the second job at the "big ass retail giant" when I tore the tendons fully expecting to go back. When the Doctor told me the tendons were part of a larger problem I nodded a lot but never really let it sink in. I always move forward, I always work, I always take care of everything.

During the whole first cast, second cast, giant boot phase I plodded along - schlep, drag, go down to the basement office on my ample butt. I developed ingenious ways of carrying things and moving heavy stacks of paperwork on to my desk.

Starting a couple of years ago it became necessary to work a second job; sky rocketing insurance costs coupled with devoted clients going out of business or being gobbled up by offshore companies put a real dent in revenue. I didn't mind the second jobs - working from home can be isolating and I am a social creature.

Unfortunately second jobs with flexible schedules are usually in the retail sector and that means lots of time on my feet. And my feet appear to fail me now.

So I started looking for a full time job - charming economy to be doing it in but I was hopeful and I got positive feedback from all the agencies I signed up with. I have a solid set of skills, I score high on all the tests, I have experience. Trouble was that larger problem the Doctor mentioned back in September was not going to be ignored.

I bought the most un-orthopedic looking pair of sensible shoes I could find. I was lucky in that my good interview suit has long wide legs and they disguised the days when the foot dragged. I practiced getting around without the cane. It may be illegal to discriminate against older workers and disabled workers but it is also reality. Before the ankle injury I was often told I was "over qualified" which is HR speak for old. Imagine clunking in there on a cane! It's not fair that this is a nano second first impression sound bite world - but it is.

On one interview the exuberant interviewer wanted to take me on a tour of the offices. There were winding spirial staircases everywhere! She ran up and down them in her 3 inch heels while I bit a hole into my lower lip trying to keep up. When I got home from that interview my ankle was swollen outside the shoe and I couldn't straighten up. There's a good chance the other tendons are tearing. And the whole tilting to my right to take pressure off is probably tearing the already torn muscles around my hip - that's from a previous "this is a chronic problem" that I willed myself to overcome. I can't be sure what's happening since I lost my health insurance as of December 1 and haven't been back to the doctor since.

I dated this career military guy who used to tell his soldiers that he wished they had my stamina and determination. "She eats bullets for breakfast and spits out the casings" he said. And to a very, very large degree that is who I am - to others and more importantly to myself.

So the disability package came yesterday. It weighs a ton and has pages and pages of instructions and a mile long list of required documentation. I opened it, stared at it and then threw it across the room. Stupid childish move - I just have to go pick it all up.

I feel like I'm free falling through space while paralyzed ...

My photography is keeping me sane - through the lens I can still compose scenes that come out the way I want them too. I'm so glad I started the photo blog.

I am going to try to start the forms today. That's the best I can promise myself.

I'll let you know how it's going.

Woe? Oh No!

After I read my ‘head banging’ story from Saturday’s post I had a revelation.

I’m most comfortable talking about myself when I can be funny or when I can report overcoming some obstacle – the triumph syndrome.

Now there really isn’t anything wrong with that. Humor has always been an important part of my life – laughter heals. And who doesn’t like and need a bit of triumph.

The thing is it is not the whole story.

I think I’m an open person. Ask me a question I’ll give you an honest answer. I don’t have any airs about me and I remember where I came from. So I ask myself why have I been less than open lately. And could ‘stifling myself’ be the root cause of my fiction writing block.

Maybe.

But I love to share. So what is it that has me avoiding myself.

Denial. A bit.

Fear. Some.

Overwhelmed. A lot.

My business and the economy and my health have all joined forces to create the perfect storm. A storm of magnificent proportions that is wreaking havoc with my head, my heart, my soul.

It is sucking the joy out of anticipating my grandchild to be.

It is making me feel older than my years while managing to make me feel like I have not learned a damn thing in all this time.

What happens when the survivor isn’t too sure she can survive the next round of challenges. Can she vote herself off the island.

What becomes of the funny girl who doesn’t think it’s funny.

How does ‘Earth Mother’ nurture others when she feels she doesn’t know how to nurture herself.

Notice I left out the question marks. That’s intentional. I don’t need or want answers yet. I need to fully form all the questions first. It occurred to me that my sudden unusual bout with being accident prone could be my psyche telling me something. Stop beating yourself up. Take better care of yourself. Stage an accident and let the kids have the insurance money. Who the hell knows.

I’m not sure where this current line of thought is going. I do know that many of us are experiencing the same sort of feelings. We’re losing jobs, our kids are getting laid off, our unemployment is running out, we’re less than hopeful about the hope we voted in …

I think I may explore this for a bit. If you’d like to share please do so in the comments. We get some wonderful conversations going round here and I value that.

Don’t worry about me! Don’t feel sorry for me! I really truly hate that.

Suddenly I have all these songs running through my head. The Circle of Life. I Will Survive. Anything Joni Mitchell.

And …

Don’t Cry For Me Argentina.

Mishegas Monday

I always channel Nana when feeling overwhelmed and uncertain.

I thought I’d update everybody, hopefully without too much kvetching.

I am very grateful to have several projects going on. Business has been slow for months now. The problem with this current batch of projects is that every one of them is screwed up in some way – the respondents interviewed weren’t of the best quality (my polite way of saying ‘morons with opinions’) or the questionnaire design was faulty (‘morons seeking opinions’) or the data was late getting to me and so my time is being cut.

This is the new order of business for freelancers everywhere. The work is awful, the deadlines are impossible, the clients are horrid since they are usually juniors with little training – most qualified mid to upper level analysts have been laid off – and the pressure to be fast and cheap is immense.

So we work harder for less – and we’re grateful.

I am especially grateful since I can’t work either of my 2 part-time jobs because of my ankle injury.

Add to that the fact that I need to spend hours on the phone with doctors and the insurance company. As of November 1 I had to change my coverage from a group policy to an individual policy. $260 more a month for less coverage and rules that make your head spin. All the arrangements for physical therapy and orthopedic consults that were put in place just 18 days ago are out the window. Somehow the insurance company thinks it will be cost effective to start from scratch.

OK – I promised I would keep the kvetching to a minimum. I’m just sharing LOL

I didn’t get to Wordzzle this Saturday and I don’t have a POW offering this month. There is just too much noise in my head to be creative.

Please go by JEFF’S and check out all the Portrait of Words stories – I know I will.

In the interest of being upbeat and positive I’d like to acknowledge some awards I received the past few weeks and I’d like to pass them on. Since I don’t do this when I receive the awards my list may be a bit lengthy but hey – new blogs to check out so be nice.

From my wonderful friend LISA – I received this friendship gift. I call it the ‘blogging brings us closer’ award.

To translate the gift from Portuguese to English, it means: "This blog invests and believes, the proximity" [meaning, that blogging makes us "close" - being close through proxy]. "They all are charmed with the blogs, where in the majority of its aims are to show the marvels and to do friendship; there are persons who are not interested when we give them a prize and then they help to cut these bows; do we want that they are cut or that they propagate?"

I am going to pass the Blogging Brings Us Closer Award on to:

PAGAN – she inspires me as a writer, a photographer, an activist and a Mom.

CUNNING RUNT
– oh man his photos are sublime and as he shares his stories of his daughters I find myself feeling I know him a little bit more and a little bit better. He has a peaceful voice that I have come to value.

TRAVIS – talk about peaceful voices!! I often stop myself and say – “how would Travis respond”. And his Dancing With the Stars updates are fabulous.

ROB – I have enjoyed Rob’s blog for awhile now but ever since his comments on Election Day I have felt a kinship with him. He is a thoughtful, intelligent blogger who I often want to hug.

MAITHRI – and speaking of hugs. Maithri is a gentle soul who touches the world with his words and deeds.

The next award comes from JACKIE in Glasgow. I found her during my quest for all things Craig Ferguson. I was Googling Craig’s home city and found her wonderful photos. Each day Jackie posts a fantastic shot from Glasgow. She also leaves me the most supportive and complimentary comments – I appreciate her talent and friendship.

I am passing the Photo Buddy award on to:

MARY – the hostess with the mostest. Her Ruby Tuesday and Sepia Scenes projects have encouraged me to be a better photographer. Mary also has a voice that always inspires and informs.

LISA – I copied her idea for a separate Photo Blog and she never complained LOL. She always visits my photos and always has something kind to say.

ASKEW – we met through one of the photo projects but we visit each other all the time now. I look forward to her funny and supportive comments.

DARYL – She makes me feel less homesick for Manhattan and she has become a good friend.

CG – I love to worry with her and for her. She was one of my very first blog buddies.

PINK DOGWOOD – she has 2 wonderful blogs. Her words are inspiring and her photos are bliss. And she always leaves kind and encouraging comments.

LINDA – I really want to go photo hunting with this lady. She roams around cemeteries at night and scans the skies. She is a photographic adventurer and a really good person.

TERRY – is a very new friend. We met through Ruby Tuesday. She made me the wonderful photo collage I posted a few days ago.

OY! Are ya still with me? I hate doing links.

This ‘Marie Antoinette’ award comes from my pal JOOD. She thinks I speak the truth and that I ‘get it’. The feeling is mutual.


Marie is going to just one person. RAVEN

Throughout the Presidential campaign Raven was the most passionate, educated, informed, reasonable voice on the Internet tubes. Even when she thought she was ranting Raven always did her homework and was always kind and respectful to those who disagreed with her. I have more love and respect for Raven than I can truly describe without becoming a sentimental cow.

And last – Yeah I know you hate me by now.

Thank you to MARY for giving all the Ruby Tuesday posters the Fall Décor Award.



I don't know how much I'll be posting here this week but I will be posting lots of photos over on the Photo Blog - just click on the camera on the sidebar. I can't bring myself to do one more link. All I can see now is '<' and 'a' and 'href' and lots of little "'s

OY!

The Perfect Storm of Stress and The Romper Room Rant

I’ve been buried the past couple of days. It’s one of those times when all the crap hits all the fans while all the rest of the crap is flowing downstream at the same moment. The perfect storm of stress.

I have been:
Forced to participate in endless conference calls with representatives of the company that acquired the company that owns the company that is one of my biggest clients. I have done projects for this company for 20 years. I’m known for being early on deadlines and under budget – routinely, consistently. So what are all the calls for!? “Let us discuss how projects can be done quickly and cost effectively”. OK John J. Junior Exec – you incredibly ignorant slug. Please do tell.

I have been:
Trying to collect from a client. They owe me over $12,000 for months and months. For projects I did for them last year. 5 weeks ago I was told the check would be cut in a week or so. Yep! – It’s in the mail, it’s on the truck. And I walk a tightrope with these collection attempts. There is a small determinate number of clients giving out work to a large number of vendors. Can’t really piss them off while trying to get paid. Whores in shark infested waters – my new company slogan.

I have been:
Juggling minimum amount due dates and extensions on extensions. Funny – the fact that my client hasn’t paid me in months doesn’t seem to impress my bill collectors. Seems that only large corporations can get away with non-payment.

I have been:
Vocally and passionately fighting with the big-ass-asshats at the big-ass store. Seems that sales associates are now supposed to clean the store. Not a little dusting or tidying – we already do that along with lifting, carrying, stocking, boxing, folding, unfolding and hanging. We also clean the fitting rooms. Of course this is in addition to actually doing our job – ya know – sales! Well now we’re supposed to polish shelving and stands. Clean “on, around, and under all displays”. Really!? If I wanted to be a cleaning person I would be a cleaning person – and I would earn $30 an hour off the books. Since I’m 52 freakin’ years old with a bad back I am NOT cleaning your fucking hell hole of a store that hasn’t been professionally cleaned in 20 years. I’m certainly not cleaning it during the same hours that I am supposed to be helping customers. And I’m not cleaning it while the temperature in my work area is 87 degrees (I bought in a temp gauge that disappeared the next day) because the AC unit is too old and the duct work is bad. And I’m not cleaning while you continue to cut the hours of the cleaning people – you know – the ones who took the job knowing they’d be cleaning! It is not that I think I’m too good for cleaning – one of my many 2nd or 3rd jobs over the years was cleaning office suites all night. NO! I’m not going to clean because you just can’t suck any more labor out of me for a few bucks an hour. NO MORE! And if you keep pushing there’s going to be news crews and labor people crawling all over your filthy store.

So in the midst of this – well – my stress level has been a wee bit high – just a tad. But I am glad to report that I never lost sight of the bigger picture. I never lost sight of the fact that the $12,000 I’m waiting for is a years salary for many of the folks I work with at the big-ass hell hole. I never lost sight of the fact that my home is not in foreclosure, that I don’t have small children, that although I can’t pay for it on time – I do have health insurance.

And not losing sight of the big picture is a big deal. It helps us focus on the real enemies, the true threats. It strengthens us and gives asshats like Bushie Boy and his ‘All Corrupt, All the Time Choir’ less power over us.

And it left me enough room in my heart and soul to rejoice in my nominee for President actually, finally being called the nominee he has already been for weeks.

I’m also managing to maintain my sense of humor. I called a friend last night to ask some labor law advice and some collections advice. During the conversation I mentioned that some of the cleaning people at the big-ass hell hole call me “Miss Dianne”. (another story). This lead to the Romper Room Rant.

Lawyer friend: Miss Dianne!? Makes you sound like that bitch from Romper Room
Me: I always hated her.
LF: Hated her? That’s strong.
Me: You know how I am about perky.
LF: You would have done a great job on Romper Room
Me: Me? Romper Room!? Only if it was Adults Only Romper Room
LF: There’s an idea. Did SNL do that?
Me: Maybe or maybe I just dreamed it during a twisted moment.
LF: Miss Dianne and her Warped Wand see all …
Me: During the one hour Comedy Central Special – Romper Room Rant
LF: I’m still in the office – I can’t laugh
Me: I see Billy and Bobby – Billy stop sniffing the glue; it’s for your school project
LF: Laughter is not permissible in the halls of corporate justice
Me: Bobby go warn Mommy that Daddy’s home – don’t be scared – the pool boy isn’t hurting her
Me: I see Susie and Sally – Susie honey you can’t keep vomiting and then eating more Ring Dings
LF: Ahhh – eating disorders are always so funny
Me: Sally – Sally - Miss Dianne knows what you’re doing! Make sure to always have extra batteries
LF: You know how loud I laugh
Me: Fuck em, it’s after hours
LF: It’s never after hours. Not in the world of greed and despair.
Me: Well that brought me down
LF: So you’re stable now?
Me: No.
LF: Good.

And then we drifted into talk of all our less than stable moments and the hilarity that usually ensues.

It sucks that I missed Peace Blast but I try to blog for Peace in my own way all the time so I’m letting myself off the hook on that one.

And hopefully I’ll be finding some more Project Blue soon.

Back to work now – I have so many projects that I’ll never get paid for to finish.

Note: Romper Room – for all you youngins - was a children’s show during the 60s – I don’t remember what they did on Romper Room other than the perky annoying bitch who hosted the show would hold up this freaky whirling pattern wand and “see you”. She never once saw me! And that pissed me off. Then again, I’m sure her head would have exploded had she seen me.

The Virtual Break Room

One of things I miss about working in a large company is the camaraderie, the friends you make and the fun you have.

Back at the Evil Empire Corporation we would have ridiculous fun conversations in the break room. We’d go down to the lobby to have a smoke, or hide from an asshat and there was always someone else there to bitch and rant with; someone who was also having a crappy day or needing a silly break.

Before I started my blog I visited a few forums and I made some lovely friends there. The problem with forums is that they’re very subject specific so it’s not a place to just ramble. And they attract trolls. The last thing I want to do when taking a break from BS is to become engaged in BS with strangers.

When I started the blog I had no idea what to expect. I hoped I’d gain some confidence in my writing and I hoped I’d find some like minded people. I knew blogs weren’t instantly satisfying; they’re not as interactive as forums.

Well! Yesterday the best of all worlds came crashing together in a crescendo of fun and talented insanity.

The wonderful folks at ’You Just Keep On Believing That’ hosted a Peach Fest. Go on over and take a look at what it was all about. And then return there – often – they’re a lovely group of people. Their posts are fun and their readers are, as Tina Turner would sing, ‘Simply The Best’.

When the long hours of work in my luxurious basement office (hell hole under my house) make me feel isolated and cranky it’s nice to have a place to go.

Where Everybody Knows Your Name!

Cheers to YJKOBT!

Whiny - Bitchy - Perky - OY!

I feel old as dirt! Actually I think I was here before dirt, I vaguely recall waking up as a young girl and discovering there was dirt all around me. I was going to call Moses and ask him what the hell was up but Methuselah told me to mind my own business.

OK – done whining. I’ve never been good at whining. Always wanted to be one of those girls – you know – porcelain skin, crystal eyes – when they cry they look like goddesses. Me – when I cry my nose runs and my already ruddy, peasant complexion turns downright rosacea. And I get the hiccups til I puke.

Crap – I’m still whining.

Job #1 – my own private (hell) business is filled with annoying little tasks. A huge project is winding down so, now that they don’t like the results, the nit-picky persecution of the innocent begins.

Job #2 – giant-ass retail store is killing my back. Along with not being able to cry like a lady I have never mastered the ability to look busy without really doing anything. I’m folding and lifting and carrying. I’m running from Missy to Petite (tiny women are vicious!) and then all the way over to Kids. And back again. I have promised myself that today I will make like a Diva. Only one question – what does a Diva (not) do?

Am I still whining? Or have I crossed over into bitching?

I’m gonna try perky.

Mia is doing great! And that makes me so happy. She is sneeze and wheeze free and is eating like a champ. Now that she’s not contagious I have begun the slow process of introducing her to Siren. I rotate toys and blankies back and forth so they smell each other. Mia will sleep on Siren’s blankie; Siren just smells Mia’s stuff to death and then gives me dirty looks. I also encourage Mia to visit Siren through the screen door. She’s very suspicious of this and usually stands behind me. Reminds me of how my son would hide behind me when it was time to get on the school bus.

I’m putting together a slideshow of the duo. As soon as Kodak (Not-So) Easy Shareware aligns with Photo (drop-in-the) Bucket it should be ready to post on (blah – blob) Blogger. Apparently cosmic influences must be just right – that plus I must have more than 2 brain cells available at the same moment to complete my task.

See how I can never sustain perky? I always revert to self-deprecating. It’s my charm.

I just noticed something - Dianne/Mia/Siren can be shortened to Di/Mi/Si - isn't that cute!? Positively adorable even! I hate cute.

Heads or Tails Tuesday: 7 Customer Do's and Don'ts

This week’s Heads or Tails was - 7 things from any category

If you’d like to participate or read other entries please visit Skittle’s Place

I went back to work this weekend at my second job as a sales associate for a large retailer. I had been on medical leave since December with a variety of back and leg issues that I won’t bore you all with.

As I folded the same stack of shirts for the fourth time in two hours my mind wandered. If it didn’t I would surely seriously injure a customer or kill the co-worker who is supposed to be folding, it’s technically not in my job description but the store was as dead as a doorknob (as is the co-worker’s brain) and I couldn’t look at the mess, especially with all the regional managers floating around. Business is not good and they’d rather blame us than think about the economy.

Anyhoo – it occurred to me that it was Tuesday; time takes on a new dimension when you work two jobs, and I hadn’t written anything for HoT.

So, from the perspective of a customer oriented, responsible, friendly, grown-ass sales associate, I give you 7 Do’s and Don’ts for the customer.

1 - DO ask me as many questions as you need to about the stock. I will check, I will look it up, I will call the manufacturer. DON’T ask me why the fitting room is so far away or why the mirrors are cloudy or why the parking lot has potholes. I am not the floor planner, I am not the architect, and I certainly don’t have any control over the asphalt – I have to park in a clump of dead trees three football fields away from the store.

2 – DO expect me to smile at your children and make baby talk with them, it is part of being friendly and I love kids. DON’T expect me to watch them, carry them, or clean them. And definitely DON’T catch an attitude with me after I say (for the tenth time) – “honey please don’t play with that sharp stick, you’re going to get hurt – oh and please climb down off the shelves before you fall”. When you hear me say (and I KNOW you CAN hear me) “Sweetie, go back to your Mommy” what I’m saying is, “Come get your child, you irresponsible …”

3 – DO question the price, especially when there are clearance signs everywhere saying the same thing five different ways. I know you’re confused, so am I and I work here. DON’T act as though I am out to cheat you. I don’t work on commission and even if I did why assume I’m a bad person. Didn’t I just say I would check with the scanner. Didn’t I say I would get a manager to approve honoring the lower price since the sign was in the wrong place.

4 – DO expect a pleasant shopping experience. You have come here to spend your money which is how we make a living and you should be treated nicely. DON’T think I’m your friend, your mother, your wife. I am a person doing a job – you’re in public, behave like it. DON’T scream into your cell phone while talking to me, DON’T hand me your food wrappers and tell me to throw them away, DON’T shove your shopping cart at me saying “you can put that back”. If I was your friend I’d reconsider my taste in people, if I was your mother I’d smack you and if I was your wife I’d take the freakin’ cell phone away from you and call a divorce lawyer.

5 – DO feel free to take all the time you want. Wander the shelves, sit on the sofa (which I’m not allowed to even lean against) and go through the catalog, browse all you want. I smiled at you when we first made eye contact and you looked away, then I asked if you needed any help and you looked away so I told you to let me know if and when you needed anything. So DON’T get in a huff when you finally decide you want to acknowledge that I exist by shouting out – “Can I get some help over here!”

6 – I know you DO really need an extra large, and I DO know that it has to be peachy mauve with the caplet sleeve but DON’T take the entire shelf of blouses apart after I tell you that we have extra large in twelve other colors (three of which look like peach or mauve) OR we have peachy mauve in large. Why would I lie!? DON’T you think I want you to have what you want. And DON’T you know I will need to fix that entire shelf – again.

7 – DO try on as many garments as you’d like. Our store has a much more liberal policy than most. You can take as many articles in with you as you’d like, and we don’t hire scary looking surly people to stand there and stare at you – so feel free - look and model and suck in your tummy to your heart’s delight. DON’T throw it all on the floor when you’re done. I’m sorry nothing fit but that rack that says “Please leave garments here” is actually closer to you than the floor is. And if you DO leave your mess in the fitting room, then DON’T be pissy when it’s your turn to have to use a room full of someone else’s stuff.

I will gladly clean it for you as soon as I help the little boy who is bleeding from a head wound while his mother searches for the one and only peachy mauve blouse with caplet sleeves – in extra large. She KNOWS there has to be one.

Long before I worked in retail I was a customer, and before that I was a person. It will never cease to amaze me how the lines of civil behavior get so muddied when one person is in a service position and the other one is an asshole.

And I know there are terrible sales clerks – I work with them but, as in all other facets of life, we shouldn’t paint everyone with the same brush.

Now I need a drink – I think I’ll have a 7 and 7.

It's The People

I've mentioned that I run a small (teeny) business from my luxurious basement office (hole under my house) and I've often spoken (whined) about deadly deadlines. Before becoming an entrepreneur I worked for several large companies. Never one to give up (unless it's a diet) I struggled for a long time to fit in to the corporate world, especially at the executive level. Lucky for me I was laid off in a huge sweeping restructuring before I had a heart attack.

For a long time after leaving the corporate world I was angry and bitter, I felt used and discarded. It was hard to admit failure but then I realized I hadn't failed. I had just not succeeded at a place I didn't belong. Was I angry and bitter that I had never been accepted into the NFL? Of course not! Clearly I don't belong in the NFL - although I do think I could do wonders for morale in the locker room.

My stint as Little Miss Executive taught me how to run a business, how to read financials, most of my computer knowledge was gained there. I got to travel on an expense account and best of all, I met the most wonderful people.

Even after all this time has passed many of these folks are still friends today, some are also clients - the ultimate compliment, when you like and respect a peer enough to put your livelihood in their hands.

I miss the travel a lot, it's hard to be free to travel when the travel isn't free!

Mostly I miss the daily interaction with people I love.

I've also been missing Brooklyn more than usual this week - I think I just miss my brother and my nieces or maybe "It's the Pizza".

Missing Brooklyn and missing the people I worked with came crashing together this morning into missing one of my best work buddies - I'll call her Brooke since she'd probably hate being praised, loved and missed. That's one of her best attributes - she has self-deprecating down to an art form.

I met Brooke while on line at the bank. We were both cashing our paychecks - yep - direct deposit didn't exist! How did we ever survive. We got to talking and quickly realized we had both heard terrible things about each other - politics and gossip are two things I don't miss. Being the intelligent, open minded, wonderful women that we are we decided for ourselves.

We are both single Moms, both workaholics, and we both have ties to the "hood" - in particular the Broadway of the old neighborhood - commonly referred to as "the avenue". I lived near the avenue, her Mom lived near the avenue. Brooke will grudgingly admit that, as our friendship grew, it became apparent that her Mom liked me better.

In all the years of working together no one could cheer me, calm me, inspire me quite the way Brooke could. We have a similar sense of irony, we both delight in the absurd, and we're both quick and sarcastic although Brooke is far more subtle which makes most people think she's nicer than me. She most likely is.

As the atmosphere at our workplace became more toxic our need to escape became more necessary - and sometimes more crazed. We absolutely drank too much and stayed out too late. I don't do that much anymore but I don't regret a moment.

Our little group of workplace survivors was priceless. We were regulars at all the best dives and me and Brooke were the Den Mothers of the table. We sheltered the youngins, we dispensed advice, we picked up checks, we arranged taxis and we had a grand old time.

And oh how we entertained! No subject was off limits. Nothing was sacred. The most favored victims of our sharp tongues was us - our families, our appearance, our bosses, our clients, and most of all - our shared Brooklyn background.

Our best routine was the fantasy business we dreamed up - "Mourning Becomes You" was to be a small store on "the avenue". It would cater to the love the natives have for funerals and grieving. All 100 of the Roman Catholic churches within a mile of the store would recommend us. We'd be rich and infamous.

"Mourning Becomes You" would carry a full line of black dresses, black veils, black gloves, black stockings and black shoes. We never got around to the men's line - not sure why. We would also carry ready-to-heat casserole dishes for all your sympathy visits. If the meatballs aren't perfect you insult the dead!

As the workdays became more impossible, our fantasy business plan expanded. We decided to include a novelty section to bring in the tourists. T-shirts - "Mom and Dad went to Uncle Vito's funeral and all I got was this black T-shirt" was going to be a big seller - of course we would personalize it for the two people who didn't have an Uncle Vito. Purple and black candles - when you're feeling romantic while mourning. Postcards of all the best funeral homes. The possibilities were endless.

We would entertain the table, and mostly ourselves, with our business plan. We used all the stereotypes of the old neighborhood to our advantage. We embraced the craziness of some rituals - much in the same way as was later used in "My Big Fat Greek Wedding". With love and respect and humor. If only we had not been working so hard, such long hours - we definitely would have come up with a screenplay, a companion piece to "Fat Wedding". "Ladies of the Pews" perhaps, or "My Delightfully Dark Day" or ...

I can't continue without my partner in crime and sarcasm.

I thought I'd give a little glimpse into the luxurious basement office (hole)

The desk where all the magic happens

The boxes and boxes of work - a lot of it is done or I couldn't be talking to you right now




The long cluttered path that would take me to the closet where all this crap belongs if I had the time and strength to go there




And the first thing I see each morning as I make my long exhausting commute into the hole under my house. No wonder I need a doughnut!

Don't Leave Home Without It

No, not your Amex card. Your mind!

I'm in another one of those deadly deadline phases - and how ironic, first I had no time to put the tree up and now I have no time to take it down.

There is nothing sadder looking than a half dressed tree surrounded by Rubbermaid tubs and - as my son used to call it - "the debris of Christmas" - Funny, he used SAT words when he was 7 but forgot them in high school.

But I digress ...

It's 70 degrees here today when it should be 40. I had to get out of the hole (luxurious basement office). I fed the squirrels and birds in the yard and then took off to Drug Fair for a few more storage items for the "debris of Christmas"

helpful household hint: those dress size garment bags are great for storing holiday floral arrangements - plastic/silk - not nature!
helpful hint part deux: they now have giant dress garment bags, they're designed to hold 14 dresses and my little fake tree fits in it perfectly.

It is impossible for me to leave Drug Fair without buying something I don't need. Knowing this I always head to the clearance aisle. Might as well be a frugal shopaholic. I was excited to see that, with my brand new "We Care" reward card, I could buy one bag of coffee for $4.99 and get the second one for a penny. A penny! You can't even get penny candy for less than a quarter.

I was thrilled with my great buy until I got home and realized that my coffee is always 2 for $5 at my regular Stop 'N Shop

So - $4.99 plus a penny = $5
and 2 for $5 = $5

Yes, I had to think a lot about that

And now it's time for a drink and a nap.

"Whatever Doesn't Kill Me Makes Me ..."

... do really dumb stuff.

I've had about 8 hours of sleep in the past 3 days. Dealing with deadlines that were stacked up down here in the hole (luxurious basement office) in a manner that would make Jet Blue proud.

Sleep deprivation can be dangerous - I don't how the interns on Grey's Anatomy do it. Perhaps because they're 20-something, having lots of great sex and fictional?

note to self: in next life come back as 20-something fictional character.

I've spent nearly all of the past 72 hours working - I have edited until my red pencil bled, I have created data files that sing, mail merges to make ya weep and excellent excel files.

I did wander away from the desk from time to time to stretch and clear my head and in those brief moments of exhausted freedom I managed to:

Leave a full glass of milk on the edge of the coffee table. It had a big red straw in it. Siren loves red straws, he also teaches curiosity to other cats at the PetSmart Learning Annex. Whoever said it wasn't worth crying over spilt milk never had to clean it up.

I threw a leaky foul bag of trash into the recycling container. Easy mistake - one is green, one is yellow. The container is so deep that I couldn't retrieve the garbage without tipping the container over and resting it against my leg. I had to use the left leg since the stronger, more balance experienced leg is still recovering from the "Elephant Leg" mishap. It wasn't until the full weight of the container was resting against my foot that I realized I was wearing flip-flops. I quickly reacted to my poor choice of protective footwear by losing my balance, smashing my head against the fence and falling half into the recycling bin. This made grabbing the garbage bag so much easier.

I wondered if the coffee pot was still on by touching it. As sleepy as I was I did not allow the bright red power light to distract me.

I grabbed for the ringing telephone while using the vegetable washing spray thingie. Again - kudos to me - I was multi-tasking by talking to my neighbor while washing the kitchen walls.

Thank goodness I didn't need to operate heavy machinery. I swear I caught the washing machine hugging the laundry room wall in all out terror as I walked by.

My original plan was to celebrate the death of deadlines by putting up my Christmas tree. Considering that fragile glass and electric lights are part of the task I'm re-thinking. I'm nothing if not a clever executive able to adjust in an instant to her changing environment.

The new plan is to have a piece of ice-cream cake (no fire, no sharp utensils) as a late dinner and then sleep.

Tomorrow is another day and the Christmas tree can wait. And it's flame retardant.

"Such a Pretty Me!"

Remember that song from "Flower Drum Song"? - "I feel pretty, oh so pretty" and "see the pretty girl in the mirror there, who could that pretty girl be?" - "such a pretty face, such a pretty (somethin') - such a pretty me!"

That song, along with "Look at Me I'm Sandra Dee" are long time standards in the Soundtrack to My Life. They come up all on their own when I'm feeling anything but pretty.

I think we all have a Soundtrack to Our Life - songs that pop into our heads at a particular moment - I have taken to letting the songs splain' to me what I'm feeling.

I'm still banging my head against that deadline. The printer has finally agreed to behave and for that I'm grateful but the papers that need pushing just keep growing and growing.

Yesterday I worked - well I was at my desk - from 6AM to 3AM this morning - my only break was my visit to the therapist and to Stop N' Shop. Imagine if they had therapy booths at the Stop N' Shop - oh the efficiency.

Since I'm still recovering from the "Elephant Leg" mishap I've been trying to balance the need to care for myself with the need to meet this deadly deadline. The leg needs to be elevated so I've got boxes (full of incomplete work and unwrapped Christmas gifts) stacked next to my desk and adorned with a giant pillow. The leg must go there whether it wants to or not several times a day. Given that the infection that led to "Elephant Leg" is still hanging around (for the holiday I assume) I have developed an abscess in a very unmentionable area - let's just say that when the leg ain't elevatin' the pillow is moved to my chair.

Add to this a lack of sleep and well - "such a pretty me" - At one point last night/this morning I was wrapped in a blanket wearing old sweatpants and a football jersey. My hair is shoved under a huge headband and I don't even remember where my make-up bag is. Even my beloved earrings have been forsaken. My earlobes are just too tired to hold them up. Oh and undergarments are such a drag at 3AM - I'm thinking of wrapping my desk with crib bumpers so I don't injure myself any further. And I've had another T-shirt idea - "Just cause my boobies are droopin' don't mean I can't have a nice day"

Now I really don't want any sympathy - just send chocolate. And I'm actually in a fine state of mind - coffee induced. The carrot at the end of my shiny nose is putting up my Christmas tree once I hit send on this data file.

I just wanted to share this vision of me - if I were really brave I'd enclose a photo but trust me, use your imagination.

And I wanted to confirm for myself that the light at the end of the tunnel might actually be Christmas - and not the oncoming train.

Edit: It was brought to my attention that my pretty girl song is from "West Side Story" - the song from "Flower Drum Song" is "I Enjoy Being a Girl" - clearly my inner IPOD shuffle needs some rest. Thanks to Cathy who always looks out for me.

Creating a Moment to Live In

I am having a hell of a day. Having, not even had and it's almost 10PM - do you know where your last nerve is!?

I have a deadline that's killing me. The project is huge and complicated and my heart just isn't in it but I love my house and the bank is funny about mortgage payments. Plus the money from this project will keep from needing to get a 3rd job come February.

I have this nasty habit of projecting - and when I project I panic. I take not meeting a deadline (I'll probably meet it anyway - I always do) and project it all the way to financial ruin and living like a troll under a bridge. I pull up stuff from my past, mix it with fears of the future, add a dash of today's annoyances and voila - one crazy cocktail.

So I'm down here in the hole - uh - luxurious basement office and I'm telling myself to live in the moment. Except at the moment I'm trying to fix the paper tray for my very expensive, fancy schmancy laser printer. It keeps telling me the paper isn't legal - I swear I paid for the paper with US currency on American soil. WTF!? Does my paper need papers.

And then it dawns on me - I cleaned the paper tray and maybe the little green paper guide thingie isn't aligned - so I grab the thingie and I gently tug at it - and it comes off in my hand, not even a clean break, there isn't a glue crazy enough to fix this mother.

I need a different moment to live in.

As I sit down to calmly and professionally ponder my situation by crying I instantly remember a lady I met a few weeks ago at Job #2. - the big-ass retail store.

"We have to do what we have to do" she told me the day I met her. "Even if we're not doing too good at the moment" she continued.

She had come into the store to buy herself a new sweater. I guess she's in her 70s - she looked so fragile but I made her smile and laugh (my favorite part of the job). I even convinced her to pick a bright color that matched her lipstick.

She handed me an expired credit card which led us into a search of her purse that was a lot like traveling through time. She had dozens of credit cards in there - from old and expired to new and unactivated. Most of them weren't signed. I was about to say this was a problem when I saw how nervous she was so I asked her if we could spend a few moments together. Thank goodness the department was empty! If somebody behind her had complained I mighta, hadda killed them.

We lined up all the cards - destroyed the old ones, she signed the new ones and we called and activated them. While in the purse we found a coupon for 20% off the sweater - score! as my son would say. We also found coupons for brands that don't exist anymore.

She thanked me a million times and left.

A few minutes later I was headed outside for my break when I ran into my new friend in TVs. She looked so happy to see me! She said she felt so good about her cards being in order that she was going to get a new TV. The one she had now was very old and snowy and she wanted to get cable - plus she had been watching the Price is Right for days before realizing Bob Barker had become Drew Carey - she giggled just like my Grandmother used to.

We picked out a TV together, I arranged for it to be delivered and we walked to her car. She told me I was a "sweet girl" - I love being called a girl, especially since I was born fully grown. As she was getting into her car she told me she had started out thinking it was going to be a bad day, a day she wouldn't be able to handle - her husband had passed away a few weeks earlier and this was the first time she was venturing out on her own. They had done everything together and she felt she couldn't manage alone.

And "now look" she beamed - "I have a beautiful sweater, a new TV and my purse isn't crazy anymore" - Oh she reminded me of Nana.

I gave her my number and told her to call me if she needed anything. She said she would but I shouldn't worry - she felt good, she felt stronger.

She hasn't called for help but she does call to ask me how I'm doing and to tell me I'm a "good girl" and to talk about all the new shows she's discovering. In January I'm going to teach her how to use the DVR.

At the moment that I decided to connect with her I had created a moment I could live in later. As Nana used to say - "Who knew!?"

Off to find the crazy glue! I feel stronger.