Having a Ball Breaking the Chain

Falling to earth

2006-09-17T22:48:00.000-07:00

I was blog surfing today, which is about as athletic as I get any more, and was reminded of a pastime I used to enjoy, at least most of the time. Karl of Secondhand Tryptophan went skydiving as a celebration of his birthday. Watching his video of the occasion reminded me of how I spent just about every Saturday and many Sundays for about a year and a half when I was in my early 20s.

A woman I worked with asked me to go with her when she went for her first jump. She had become interested in giving it a try from a guy she "liked", but she wanted some moral support and someone to ride along with her and keep her from turning around and heading home halfway to Elsinore. Lake Elsinore and Perris, California, were both great places to go back then. Out in the proverbial middle of nowhere, there was lots of space to drift around in and still find room to land that wasn't already occupied by houses and cars and, well, other people who didn't appreciate 'divers dropping out of the sky on their heads.

I went to watch and was immediately hooked. The very next Saturday, I was back, with the fee in my hand and courage in my heart.

They didn't do tandem jumps back then. Instead, you signed up for a daylong course during which you learned a few safety tips and how to hit the ground without breaking anything vital. This training consisted of jumping off a set of portable stairs a few dozen times, trying to get the drop and roll technique down because everyone knows it's the same thing to jump off of stairs as it is to jump out of an airplane.

By the end of the day (a few hours, tops) you were ready to make your first jump. I think the theory was, if they let you leave, you might actually come to you senses, so better get you in the plane ASAP. Fortunately, you were attached, or rather, the pull ring of your parachute was attached, to the plane by what was called a "static line." That way, once you fell away from the plane far enough to run out of line, your chute would automatically open and you would then float harmlessly to the ground where you would hit and roll just like you did when you jumped off the rolling stairs.

If you survived your first experience and actually wanted to do it again, you continued your training, progressing little by little each jump. The first several jumps were all static line, then what were called "clear and pulls." As the name implies, you just cleared the plane and immediately pulled your chute. Each subsequent time, you waited a little longer, learning how to control your body a bit better each jump.

The planes they used were older propeller planes, small and empty in the back. Everyone crowded in and inched their way toward the door-less exit to take their turn stepping out onto a tiny step while clutching the wing strut. The pilot would briefly kill the engine so you could get out and away before he started it up again, cutting down on what was called "prop blast." The idea was to step backward into the sky while still holding on and then let go with your hands, thus falling in a flat, tummy down position. A "hands first" was a very bad exit. About my third or fourth jump, I found out why.

When you let go of the wing strut with your hands and your feet are still on the step and the air from the propeller and the plane's forward motion hits you, you tumble head over heels backwards, not all lovely-floaty like you're supposed to. Your chute is attached to the plane and it's going to open when the line plays out, regardless of which part of the tumble you're in at the time. I was hurtling headfirst toward the earth. When a huge bubble of silk attached to your upper body fills with air and you're head-down, you become feet-down very quickly. Of course, I'm not complaining that it happened, in fact, I was quite relieved. And, even though I felt the force of the jerk from my head to my booted tootsies, it didn't really hurt. The wind was kind of knocked out of me, but, all in all, I was grateful it hadn't been worse. My gratitude was a bit premature.

It was late afternoon by the time we were all in and had stowed out gear. A bunch of us went to dinner and decided to catch a movie. All was fine until I sat in the movie for a couple of hours. The lights came up and I started to get out of my seat. Wow. That was a mistake. EVERY INCH OF MY BODY HURT! It felt as if every bone in my body was rubbing on the one next to it. Of course, my companions were less than compassionate. The more they laughed at me, the more I laughed at myself, and the more it hurt. Someone had to literally pull me out of my seat and I walked like the Tin Man without his oilcan for the rest of the night and much of the next day.

So lesson learned. I never did that again. I had a great time being a skydiver and met some wonderful people. Somewhere down the line, I started doing other things on my weekends and gradually went less and less until I finally stopped. But if I ever have to jump off the stairs, I still know how to hit and roll.

A mysterious illness has befallen us

2006-09-14T22:05:00.000-07:00

I found out this week that even pseudo illnesses can be contagious. Ah, the power of negative thinking!

On Tuesday, I was actually on my way to work when I started feeling an almost overwhelming urge for a day off. A day to myself, while everyone else was away from the house (really, REALLY rare). It was a combination of lack of sleep (I've been on the insomnia train to nowhere lately) and irritation at work (I'm completely caught up, no, may I say, AHEAD of all of my projects and keep volunteering for work that amounts to fixing other people's crap that they should have done correctly in the first place) and, well, I'll be honest, I was just feeling lazy.

The closer I got to work, the more I convinced myself that I deserved a day off. So, at some point on the drive, I took an offramp and started back north to home and my books and my music and my cats and lovely, lovely aloneness.

I've never had a problem lying my way out of work. "Not feeling well." Simple, not too many gory details. As long as it's not overdone, it's believable. I went back in on Wednesday feeling rested, restored and rejuvenated.

It started pretty early. A phone call. Co-worker one, calling in, saying she thinks she has "what Sheryl had yesterday." Really? A case of fake-itis? The second call. Co-worker two, down for the count. I sense a pattern here. Caller number three actually said her whole FAMILY was sick. Now I'm being blamed for passing a non-existent illness to a spouse and children I've never met!

It all brought to mind a guy I worked with in the past. He was the poster boy for hypochondria. If someone sneezed with 20 feet of him, he could be out for a week, hovering around the proverbial door of death. The best example of his ability to co-opt any and everyone's symptoms came when a woman we worked with quietly confided in a couple of us that she was going home with a bad case of monthly cramps. Not forty-five minutes later, Mr. Health and Vitality announced he had to go home. He was absolutely certain he had caught what she had!

He sure was cranky when we told him what she was suffering from. Maybe some Midol would have helped.

Meetings of the mind

2006-09-12T00:55:00.000-07:00

Before this job, I had never worked at a company with more than 200 employees, and that was only once. In my last two jobs, I had maybe 35 and 20 coworkers respectively and that included all of production, the warehouse and the office personnel. In both cases, I was a department unto myself taking care of all the graphics and most of the marketing needs of each company. There were few "procedures" in place and fewer reasons to have meetings. Everyone knew everything everyone else was doing, every time and every place. Everyone get that?

My present situation is, shall I say, a wee bit different. Along with literally hundreds of Standard Operating Procedures, there is always a meeting on one or another phase of the project either in the planning stages (wherein everyone is sent the agenda and encouraged to contribute their five cents worth - allowing, of course, for inflation) or being held (wherein several people stop by your cubicle saying "going to the meeting?" and troop en masse to one of the dozens of beautifully appointed conference rooms) or it's the post-meeting dissection (complete with emailed minutes so you won't forget a second of what went on.)

I, personally, am over it. The first few weeks, it was nice to be face-to-face with my new colleagues, getting to know them and the corporate atmosphere and finding out what was expected of me. Now, thank you very much, I would like to have the time to actually DO some of that work, without being interrupted three or more times a day to shut my computer down and attend another meeting.

We have big meetings in the auditorium. Little meeting on the outside balcony. Medium sized meetings with snacks and drinks brought in to conference room 2-7, which is across the bridge, up the stairs, between two other departments full of people who look up from their desks to watch us invade their territory and plant our flag on the island of their big, shiny cherrywood conference table.

One day a couple of weeks back, I checked my calendar to find that I was scheduled to attend no less than six meeting in one day. None were to last less than an hour, two were 90 minutes and the three in the morning and the three in the afternoon were all back to back to back. Add in the fact that they were in various far-flung corners of the two ginormous buildings we occupy and picture a bunch of people, clutching agendas and pens and notebooks, scurrying to and fro, asking each other, "do YOU know where we're supposed to be next?" Go ahead, picture it and try not to laugh. No, I couldn't either.

The absolute, break-down-and-laugh-like-an-idiot-no-matter-WHAT-impression-it-makes moment came for me when I realized that meeting number six of my six meeting day was all about the proper planning and execution of... wait for it, it's worth it... the MEETING! Yep. There's even an SOP to cover it.

I, personally am most fond of the rule that imposes a moratorium on meetings both Wednesday afternoons and all day Fridays (although, there is a place on the company intranet where you can apply for special dispensation to have a Wednesday afternoon or Friday meeting if it's important enough - I kid you not.) I like to think that someone with great wisdom and an eye on the bottom line realized that not a lot of work is getting done during 7 hours of meetings in an eight hour workday. Most likely, however, that's when most of them have their tee times.

Alan D. Feinberg

2006-09-11T00:01:00.000-07:00

When I first signed on to this project, I, of course, Googled the name I was assigned. In images, a nice black and white photo came up. A smiling fireman, with the requisite fireman's mustache, Alan stuck me right away as someone I would have enjoyed knowing. He could be the neighbor down the street that you wave at when you're both heading to your cars on a workday morning, or someone you see in the grocery store, buying hotdogs and all the fixings for the barbeque over the weekend.

I started reading whatever I could find written about him, slowly getting to "know" this everyday guy and the image I had formed at the beginning grew stronger and stronger. A family man, with a marriage that had lasted 23 years at the time of his death, and two children, a son and a daughter, everyone who spoke or wrote about him talked about his devotion to his wife and kids.

He began his career as a firefighter several years into his marriage to Wendy, who worked as a stockbroker at the time. Since firefighting paid less than his previous sales job in the garment industry, he became a "Mr. Mom" to his kids and worked his schedule around taking care of them, as they grew up, available for their sports and school activities. He was able to participate in field trips and coach their soccer and baseball teams. He was also able to teach them life lessons by example. His daughter, who was 18 on 9/11, wrote about her father in an essay that was part of her college application: "My father has taught me the true meaning of a hero," wrote Tara, now 18. "It amazes me how someone can have such an unyielding desire to help others, even when there is a constant risk of the danger involved. Even when my father is not fighting fires, he is altruistic in other ways. If there is an accident on the road, he will always stop to administer first aid and call the police. My father is the first one to run onto the field at a soccer game to make sure the player is not seriously hurt."

He was considered an excellent firefighter, and had reached the rank of assistant battalion chief, responsible for most of the administrative duties concerning the five fire companies that make up Battalion 9. However, time and again, what he seems to be remembered for was his willingness to help anyone who needed it, any time, any place, with enthusiasm and a smile.

On one site, an anonymous tribute caught my eye, and my heart: "Alan was truly a wonderful man. He loved his job as a fireman. He loved helping others. He was a great dad. He always talked about his children. I believe that whomever Alan met in his life, that he made quite an impact on them. I will always remember his smile and his beautiful blue eyes. He touched my life in a way that no other has. There is not a day that goes by that I don’t think about him. I know that Alan died doing what he loved to do. But, it’s still hard to know that he is gone. I thank God that I got to know Alan. I will always thank God that I got to see him for that last time at the jersey shore on Sept. 9, 2001. I looked up from where I was standing and there he was. Standing at the snack bar. Smiling that great smile of his, he will forever be in my memories and in my heart. I miss him so."

To touch the lives of so many by simply being himself, he must have been a remarkable man. He was only 48. His kids, Michael and Tara, were only 15 and 18. On September 11, 2001, I was 48. My kids were 18, 16 and 12. He'd been married 23 years; I'd been married 19 years. We could have been friends. Our children could have been friends. He's gone and I am still here. I vow to never forget that.

Visit the 2,996 website and read more tributes to the heros of 9/11.

The Odd Couple

2006-08-30T21:18:00.000-07:00

I'm new to the cubicle jungle. I never realized that there's a whole set of etiquette rules for an atmosphere where you can hear people you can't see. It's a strange feeling to know so much about coworkers you don't really know. I share a wall that is the outer border of my sub-department, so the two guys on the other side of the wall aren't part of the group I work with, lunch with, and go to meetings with. I recognize them by sight, but I feel like it would be rude to openly acknowledge what everyone already knows... the wall is thin and voices carry.

Oscar and Felix are technical writers, scientific story tellers, immersed in the prose of rules and regulations. They seem to be some kind of hired guns, brought in for a special project as a team. They don't live in the area and have obviously been put up in the same hotel, if not in the same room. In the beginning, there was much talk about where to go for dinner, what sights to see over the weekend. Felix is an older gentleman, either childless or with grown offspring. Oscar has youngsters and often talks about this or that aspect of their upbringing, involved even from a distance.

As the project has progressed forward, the twosome has apparantly spent a bit too much time together. The tone has gone gradually from easy familiarity to polite distance. I knew there was trouble brewing when Felix told Oscar that he was on his own for dinner a few times, then started making solo plans for the weekends. Then, yesterday, there was the "advice."

"I'm not saying you should do it this way, but I told my wife at the beginning that the house and kids were her domain. I provided the support, but she wasn't to expect me to run her errands. Your wife has you hopping, taking care of all kinds of things. That's why you're late all the time. It may not be my place to say it, but you have to get your priorities straight."

As Oscar delivered this little tirade, I turned to see my cubicle buddy laughing while trying not to make a sound. He gave me a thumbs up, implying that ol' Felix had it right, and we had a 5 minute exchange of notes about how things were a bit different in Felix's time. What we waited for, but didn't hear, was what Oscar's reaction would be. Silence. More silence. In fact, that was about the last thing we heard from the boys the rest of the day.

Today, things seemed to be back to polite cordiality. I think it helps that Friday is the end of their tenure with us. Both men talked of flying home, and I don't know which one sounded more relieved. I, personally, can't wait to see who moves in next. It's better than daytime television.

People watching at work

2006-08-29T22:19:00.000-07:00

My new job has introduced me to a whole world of new characters, some just bit players, some that provide comic relief and then there's the drama. I'm walking a fine line between wanting to put down roots and remembering that there's a good chance I'll be leaving in a few months, never to see any of them again. The former, the desire to make new friends, is edging ever so slightly past the urge to play it safe. Whatever I do, I will still be spending 40 hours a week with these people for at least the next four and a half months, so it's much more fun to push the banter limits and see who responds.

My cubicle-mate is a classic nerd, and has the greatest dry sense of humor. He's mostly quiet around everyone else, but makes deliciously wry comments when it's just the two of us. When I call him a nerd, it's a term he embraces. The other day, someone said he should have a beanie with a propeller on top and he said he already does. He "gets" all my puns and has begun to actually wait for them, secure in the knowledge that I'm simply unable to pass up an opportunity to engage in really bad word-play.

One of my co-workers is the classic aging hippie earth-mother type. Wild, curly Janis-Joplin hair shot through with gray, wire-rim specs, Birkenstocks and all. And another is a perfect soccer-mom persona. There are a couple of young mothers who are constantly torn between wanting the career and wanting to be home with their babies (been there, felt that heartache) and a quiet older man who lives alone in what you can tell by his cubicle is a really neat apartment that houses hundreds of books. There's also the guy who everyone plays pranks on, and teases like a younger brother and the grandmotherly older woman who gives everyone advice,

The one that bothers me a little is a single mother in her mid thirties. She's obviously bright and she's very attractive. She's ambitious, going to school two nights a week in addition to working full time and raising her son. She has everything she needs to climb the career ladder, and yet, I'm willing to bet she'll never get beyond middle management. Why? Because she dresses as if she's going clubbing every day. Four inch high sling-back heels, tight, slinky dresses cut way low (and she has quite an impressive rack), hair loose and long. She looks good, but out of place. The way she looks and dresses is what you notice about her, not her ideas or how well she does her job. She's getting in her own way, and it's sad, 'cause I'm sure she has no idea she's doing it. If I knew her better, or was a little braver, I would tell her what I think, but I know damned well that it's not my business to try to fix something that she doesn't even think is broken.

So I play my part in the comedies and dramas and try not to get too attached to the place. It's easier to pull up roots if they don't grow too deep.

Gridlock

2006-08-28T20:44:00.000-07:00

I have been extremely lucky in the past. I never realized how lucky. Traffic, road rage, a long nasty commute. None of these have even been a factor in my working life. I've either lived close to my job, or worked hours that allowed me to avoid the worst of it. The few times I've had to endure traffic, I've been blissfully serene, listening to music, sometimes reading (yes, reading while driving... and I don't need any lectures, I know it isn't the safest thing to do, but I do it anyway), basically chilling.

And feeling superior, of course. I would never let something as banal as traffic get to me... I was much more evolved than that. If you can't control the situation, you can control your reaction to the situation.

Well, screw all that... commuting every day down I-15 and back SUCKS!!!!

So far, I haven't found a time slot that I can fit my 9.5 hours between that doesn't deposit me on the dreaded stretch of highway that is the bane of all North San Diego County commuters while it's bumper to bumper 5 lanes across. Construction that continues for the majority of the distance I travel doesn't help, of course, but it's mostly just too many people, too little road.

Then there's the yuck factor. See, people in their cars seem to think they're somewhere completely hidden and private. You have WINDOWS people, and everyone else in the world doesn't want to watch while you attend to your nasty bodily functions. I swear, people pick their noses, dig around in their mouths, stick who-know-what in their ears and the SPITTERS. There oughta be a LAW!!! I was behind a guy yesterday, completely stopped, when he decided to hauck one out the window and I SWEAR he spewed out a cud that would have made any bovine proud. As I was trying to NOT follow suit, traffic started moving, so I gagged my way merrily up the road.

Why, you may ask, do I watch? I honestly TRY not to, but it's everywhere I look!

Starting tomorrow, I resolve to look straight ahead, not allowing my eyes to stray left or right but only on the taillight of the cars ahead of me. I will concentrate on the music, not the guy in the pickup truck stuffing a 3 pound breakfast burrito in his mouth. I will ignore the spitters, the pickers and the diggers.

I will regain my auto-serenity.

Does anyone have a good book on CD I can listen to?

Sneaking back in, hoping no one noticed I was gone...

2006-08-27T19:46:00.000-07:00

Bless me, Bloggers, for I have sinned. It's been 28 days since my last blog.

I'm not Catholic, but I think I have that right. Next, you're supposed to bare your soul and admit the error of you ways so that you can be absolved of all blame and guilt. With a bit of penance to do and the proper amount of remorse, of course.

It all started with the vertigo. Which turned out to be a reaction to a new generic brand of a medication I had been taking for a while. Since the medication wasn't new, neither my doctor nor the pharmacist would concede that the change of one generic to another could be the problem. So, for more than two weeks, I was dizzy and nauseous and developed a stiff neck from not wanting to move my head. Working a new job, I couldn't take any time off, so I toughed it out through the day and collapsed as soon as I got home, trying not to move until I had to get to work the next day. After I threw a hissy fit and MADE them give me the old generic, it cleared up. I don't understand the need of certain "professionals" to be right, even when they're wrong. Neither of them apologized, suggesting that I probably just recovered "coincidently."

Then I started working nine hour days and, probably because schools have been gradually starting back up and definitely because the highway 15 construction has become even MORE intrusive, traffic has been worse and worse. So, by the time I was getting home 13 to 14 hours after getting up in the morning, I wasn't feeling too much like jumping on the computer.

Add in the fact that, since my daughter and her friends are back at school and anywhere from 2 to 5 of them have been here doing homework (and using the computer) each week day, I haven't sat down to catch up with my life or anyone else's for a month.

Lots of excuses, no discipline. Bad combination.

Really, though, deep down, I know that if I had really wanted to write, I would have been writing. I'm pretty driven when it comes to something I want to do. Truth be told, I was in a very bad place, mentally and emotionally. I have been finally facing some of the obviously down sides of my impending divorce. I started writing here as a way to emphasize the positive aspects and even the name of this site is a comic play on the process. But, it isn't always so much of a ball. There are several huge roadblocks on my path to happy singlehood and I've been beating myself against them lately.

I knew that the financial situation wasn't going to be good. I wasn't aware that it was going to be so bad. My Soon-To-Be-Ex has been handling our finances for the last couple of years (that's a whole other story!) and I didn't realize until recently how deep a hole we're in. And all that has to be taken care of before the split. Crap.

And I thought that he had accepted our breakup and we were on the same page with it. It seems that my moving into my own room was a wake up call for him and now he realizes I'm serious. And that he wants to change my mind. DOUBLE crap.

My brain-mouse has been running through the maze of my mind, smashing headlong into wall after wall, backing up and blasting hell-bent another direction into yet another wall. My mental whiplash has whiplash. I've been angry and frustrated and sad and weepy by turns and the last thing I wanted to do was to sit down and focus on what I was feeling so that I could write about it. Triple crappity crap crap crap.

Having said all that, I'm sitting here focusing on how I'm feeling so that I can write about it. And it feels pretty good. So, I guess I've passed an emotional kidney stone and I'm no longer blocked.

I have lots of stories about my new job and co-workers to catch up on. And lots of reading to do, catching up on the people behind the blogs I enjoy so much. Bless me, bloggers. I have sinned and I need salvation. I throw myself upon your mercy.

Stop the word, I want to get off!

2006-07-30T22:33:00.000-07:00

Damn! I have been out of commission on the worst possible weekend! I have been battling a case of vertigo since Friday afternoon. No, that's a lie. It's been kicking my ass and I've been lying down and taking it. The whole world has been sickly spinning every time I so much as lift my head off the pillow, complete with the requisite nausea and accompanying cold sweats. I couldn't even read without getting sick, which drove me nuts. All I could do was watch some TV and sleep in front of the fan for two days. This evening, I managed to sit up and I've been up for a little while now, but I'm still kind of shaky. I HAVE to go to work tomorrow, so I'm praying it will be gone by morning.

The timing was terrible. I wasn't able to follow my best friend sj on her journey through the 24 hours of Blogathon 2006. I read as many of her entries as I could just now, and she did great! I want to read them all again when I'm feeling better. The same goes for Karl's live-blogging from BlogHer. I have lots of catching up to do.

For now, however, I have to go lay back down. Hopefully, I won't veer off into any walls on my way to the couch.

Casual Friday

2006-07-27T20:20:00.000-07:00

Well, I missed posting yesterday. I got home from work, read a few blogs and then ate dinner. My daughter and I watched a show and.... well, the rest is a blank. I fell asleep on the couch and woke up sometime around 1 a.m. just long enough to set my alarm clock and fall back into slumber land. So I had a chance to get a pretty good night's sleep. Except that I decided to go in early and set the alarm for 5:30.

Good idea, but it didn't really work. I left a hour earlier but only arrived 30 minutes before my previous day's start time. So leaving early only gained me an extra dose of traffic.

I'm not a road-rager. I figure that no amount of foul language and finger salutes are going to make the commute any better, so I like to turn the music up and the air conditioning to high and just zone out behind the wheel. I get home (or to work) at the same time and in a lot better mood. But the trip home the last three days has been a major pain in the ass.

San Diego county has some major traffic issues anyway, but with the heat and the road construction (they're making major changes to I-15) it really sucks worse than usual. Plus, my van (yes, I drive a van - left over from the days when we rarely went anywhere with less than 8 people at a time) is getting old, and the a/c has a little trouble keeping up with 100 degree heat and bumper to bumper 10 mph traffic five lanes across.

Enough complaining. I have a job. I LIKE the job. So far. And tomorrow's Friday. We were informed today that Fridays are considered "casual" dress days. Considering the clothing I've seen the rest of the week, I'm expecting either pajamas or shorts, t-shirts and flip flops. We'll see. I'm wearing blue jeans. And a smile.

Working girl's blues

2006-07-25T22:50:00.000-07:00

How lame am I? Two days back to work and it's kicking my lazy butt! I grew WAY too used to sleeping in every morning, doing little or nothing if it was too hot and generally taking things easy. So now it's Tuesday night of my first week back to work and I'm already looking forward to the weekend.

Damn, why the hell weren't my parents wealthy so I could live the life of leisure I so deserve?

Of course the fact that my insomnia is raging might be a contributing factor. My natural body clock tells me that it's not time to head off to dreamland until 2 or 3 in the morning. The same tick-tocker wants to not be disturbed until at least 10 and eleven is better. I can re-train after a while but I've learned from experience that there's no pretty way to do it. I just have to exhaust myself to the point where I can't HELP but fall asleep at a decent hour and keep getting up early, even on the weekends when all I want to do is make up for five days in a row of 3 or 4 hours of sleep.

I was reading SOP's and training procedures today and caught myself doing that little head jerk when you almost drop off to sleep sitting up. And today was only the second day! Fortunately, no one witnessed my mini-whiplash. I wonder if it's too late to learn to like coffee.

Day one

2006-07-24T20:24:00.000-07:00

O.K. First day at the new job. Some good, some not so good. Mostly good.

Good:
• Beautiful new building. Huge, but SO employee-friendly. Built-in waterfall walls, lovely and numerous REAL plants and trees, massive skylights and windows. Comfortable seating arrangements in nooks around every corner. Outdoor balconies everywhere that will be great when the weather cools off. Wonderful cafeteria with varied fare (complete salad and sushi bar, daily choice of several entrees plus sandwich wraps and fruit bowls... and then there are the pastries!) Reasonable prices, too.
• Interesting people. Relaxed, helpful, welcoming. From the HR reps to the head of my department, all seem down to earth and friendly. Full time employees emphasize the advantages of working there, and seem to genuinely like the place.
• Promise of growth and the possibility of future opportunity for direct employment. Several people mentioned starting as temps.
• No nit-picking rules. There seems to be an atmosphere of trust. No actual timeclock, everyone is just trusted to record hours worked. We were also told we could basically set our own work schedule and can start our workday as early as 6 or as late as 9. We were also told if we needed days off to just mark them on the calendar. Breaks and lunch can be taken whenever we choose and lunch can be as short as 1/2 an hour or as long as 90 minutes, as long as we work a full 8 hours each day.
• Seems to be a fairly high level of intelligence, which would make sense, as the work is technical and exacting. Not a lot of repetition or "dumbing down" of instructions. They trust you to ask questions if you have them. Otherwise, they figure you're getting it.

Not so good:
• The building may be beautiful when you have a chance to move around, but the actual work space is a cubicle. A nice, clean, well designed cubicle with lots of storage and brand new equipment, but a cubicle nonetheless. I've never worked in a cube before. Not sure how I'm going to like it. There seems to be a lot of opportunity to move around and interact now, but the true test will be when we're trained and actually into our project. My team will have to do a lot of interacting on certain topics, but it remains to be seen how close and monotonous those walls will get.
• It's obvious that this project is going to be a lot of work. I'm not complaining about that aspect of it, but haven't been in the position of relying on other people to do their share of the work for a long time. My last two jobs, spanning over 8 years, have been as the graphic design department of one, responsible for the complete workload myself. As such, I set my own timetables and met deadlines I myself had set. It will be a whole new mindset to be accountable to and dependent on others to keep everything on schedule.
• SO many rules and regs as to how things are done. There are SOPs and addendums and updates and procedures for every aspect of the artwork, product inserts, instruction manuals, etc. Makes sense, considering that it's a bio-tech firm answerable to the FDA, but it's a lot to try to take in all at once. We don't have a lot of time to get up to speed with it all before we have to get moving on the work, so hopefully, QC will keep us in line.

Basically, my first day impression is that the work itself will be difficult, but if you do it well, you can expect to be appreciated and rewarded. I guess I'll find out pretty quickly if I'm right.

On a lighter note

2006-07-23T08:00:00.000-07:00

Gawd, I just read my last post and let me say, I was NOT a cheerful camper.

But moods are like the weather, they change.

Not the weather in So. Cal. lately, though. Hot, hotter and wet-the-dogs-down hot. Poor things, digging under the bushes behind the pool, trying to find a patch of muddy dirt that the sun has NOT turned to stone. We put ice in their water bucket and hose them down a couple of times a day. Best we can do for them.

I play the lock and dash game, myself. Step out of the air-conditioned house, lock the door and dash to the car. Crank the AC in the car until I reach my destination, then lock the car and dash into the store. Head home, lock the car and dash back into the house. I'm so "at one" with my surroundings.

Back in my youth (picture the Flintstones and Bedrock) no amount of "weather" bothered me. I wore little or no makeup and my hair was all natural so what was there to be bothered? Heat and humidity? No problem, just a bit of a sheen to my natural skin. Rain? Wet clingy clothes and raindrops on the eyelashes were sexy. Wind? Hair billowing around, shiny and wavy... what's not to like?

Now, in addition to seeking out air conditioning with no less devotion than the knights of the crusades brought to the search for the holy grail, I have umbrellas stashed at work, in home and auto, and woe be unto those who may attempt to open a car window in my presence. I've become high maintenance. I swear I never planned it. I remember being able to sleep in my car at a sky-diving meet and wash my face and hair in a gas-station bathroom sink and be ready for my day. What the hell happened?

It's really not my fault. I would MUCH prefer to go out "au natural." It's just that those damned villagers with their torches and pitchforks got annoying. When mothers grab their shrieking little children and drag them from your sight a couple of times, it makes an impression.

So you start with a little makeup. And you trim your hair into a tamable do. And then there's a bit more makeup. It gets to be a habit. A routine. A necessity. And your love affair with weather ends. Now heat and humidity melt your foundation, rain gives you raccoon eyes and wind turns your coif into a white-chick afro.

It takes so much work to be a natural beauty these days.

Justifiable

2006-07-22T09:42:00.000-07:00

First, let me apologize up front for a whiney post. I'm pissed off and need to spew a bit. I was comment-browsing through a couple of others' blogs earlier and something in ms. sizzle's post and Hilly's and sj's comments struck a resounding note with me. No, not actually a note, more like a major chord. Sizzle was talking about something holding her back from things she loved to do. Both sj and Hilly agreed and all three vowed to try to be more in touch with doing things "just for me."

I realized, as I was reading all that, how uncomfortable I have been just being myself and doing things I enjoy doing around my soon-to-be-ex. I feel as if I have to constantly justify everything I do to him, deflecting criticism as I go. This is one of the major reasons I'm done with this relationship. He tries to turn everything into a fight and I quit fighting with him, since it's pointless. So he gets all nit-picky and critical, and, after one or two attempts at "explaining" myself to him, I just quit. With no way to vent his anger, he eventually leaves, but always AFTER he's managed to spoil whatever pleasant mood I was in. It's been this way for quite a while, not just since we've agreed to divorce. That relaxed, comfortable-in-my-own-world feeling that SHOULD be associated with home and family just dries right up and blows away when he walks into the house, and lasts until he leaves or at least goes into a different room.

He's been volatile and just plain pissy for a couple of years, now. His previously easy-going personality underwent a change a while back and he, himself, is quite fond of the asshole formally known as Tom. Me, not so much. He fully realizes that a lot of people have noticed the change in him and are not happy with it and, not only does he not care, he revels in it. He leaps easily to anger, picks fights whenever possible and generally snarls his way around life like a bear with a sore paw. (Before anyone says that he needs medication or therapy, please know that I DID get him to go see our family doctor a year or so ago. He was on medication that helped so much, we could actually tell when he would miss a day. He has recently decided to take himself OFF of it, now, right in the middle of what I would think qualifies a a rather stressful life transition. Seriously, he LIKES his anger.)

Now, I have no way of knowing if he carries this lovely side of himself out into the world every day. His job involves a fair amount of customer service, so I would venture to say he doesn't, although I know his bad attitude was pointed out to him at his last job. Which is one of the reasons he saves it all up and brings it home with him. It's like being in the car with someone who has extreme road rage. The yelling and swearing and anger may not be directed at you, but you're the one hearing and feeling it (another frequent argument in the days when I would argue.)

Anyone who knows me knows that I'm a strong willed woman and very rarely take crap from anyone. But I always taught my kids that it was OK to express the negative feelings and tried to help them learn to identfy who and what made them feel that way. I think that one of the best things we do for our loved ones is allow them to use us as a sounding board to help get things out and dealt with. If you're secure in the love and acceptance of your family, who better to go to when you need to share the bad stuff? I guess absorbing his anger just became a habit along the way and I didn't realize how much of it I do until I really focused on it. Even now, when we're trying to be really nice to each other, there's always that potential just below the surface. And, somewhere along the way it stopped being about me accepting and validating his frustration with the rest of the world and became about me as the object of his anger. Not a fun place to be.

Keeping the peace has become too much effort, rising to the bait is too much trouble, and justifying my existence is too much shit. It's his problem. I'm not going to make it mine, anymore.

Panic time

2006-07-21T11:42:00.000-07:00

Oh, holy crap! I just realized that I start a new job on Monday and I have at least a THOUSAND things to do! Plus, my psyche is still in vacation mode and I didn't wake up until 10:30 this morning and here I am, at 11:40, still blog-surfing in my pajamas.

Short vacations are better than no vacations at all, but the lack of decompression time is hard on the system. I'm trying to force my brain to focus on the tasks at hand and it's saying, "but I want to watch another moo-vie" in an irritating whiny tone. It doesn't help that I've been only doing free lance work, at my own pace, for the last 3 months. Discipline, baby, that's what I need!

I need to pick my van up where it's been being serviced while we were gone and open a new bank account to have my checks auto-deposited into and go to the agency I'm working through and sign papers. And, and.... do laundry and clean the vacation debris out of my purse and do some grocery shopping and buy a new lunch cooler to take my salads to work in and, hey! I just made myself a list to get started with, at least.

Farther down on my list of things to do would be to download all the pics from my camera and open a Flickr account and read those helpful emails SJ sent me about how to make my blog site better and more personalized. Obviously, if I'm going to keep this up, I need to get further into the technical aspects. So far, all I'm doing is keeping an online diary. Which serves my emotional need to vent, but doesn't really qualify me as a real blogger. When Kevin and Hilly and SJ start throwing around terms like Word Press and TypePad and Technorati and Web-based interface all I hear is blah blah blahdy blah. And isn't BlueHost that Vegas enertainment act?

Well, now it's noon and my laundry is done and I HAVE to get in the shower. Vacation GOOD. Reality BAD.

Not so long, not so strange

2006-07-20T19:36:00.000-07:00

What a great little three-day escape from reality. A TIRING little escape, but definitely a fun one.

On Tuesday, we left our home town for the grueling 45 minute drive a bit later than expected, due to some last minute errands that stretched longer than planned, but, even with a self-tour around the grounds we were still in our room, sitting on our beds in our pj's in time for the first of two (yes, repeat, but I had missed one of them and it was erased from the DVR before I had a chance to watch it) episodes of Veronica Mars. We ordered room service dinner and ate Monte Cristos and melon (yummy honey-dew and cantaloupe) and tried not to think of how much it cost. Well, I tried not to think of it. My daughter finds the not-thinking-about-it part really easy. Then, I decided that vacations were not for worrying about money and crap, so I found my zen center and let it go. Of course, management somehow found out I was zen-centering and added another charge to my bill (I forgot to ask for a zen-centering room), but I'll meditate on that later.

The next morning (Wednesday) we relaxed and walked on the beach (for like 10 minutes... it was freakin' 100 degrees out there, yo!) and then headed to the air-conditioned goodness of a shopping mall. Naturally, the STORES were all blasting the cool air, but, being Southern California, the mall itself is outdoors. So you basically shop and/or browse a place then scurry like fire-walkers to the next store for more browsing and/or shopping. For the non-initiated, browsing is what you do in the stores you either have no interest in or cannot AFFORD. Mostly the latter. Fortunately, I have a teenaged daughter who's practical enough to look at a pair of $56 flip-flops (that, admittedly were very cute) and say, "No WAY would I waste that much money on those." (Which, in reality means, "No way do I expect my mom to buy those for me," since she left home with no money in her wallet.) I think she learned, at an early age, that uttering such endearing phrases tends to pay off when there's something she really DOES want. Crafty young woman, no?

When it was so hot we couldn't stand it any more, we took a movie break, then back out to the mall as it cooled off. We headed back over the bridge to Coronado for more relaxing around an umbrella-ed table and enjoying the evening breeze off the ocean. Bliss!

We were up and showered and checked out by 11 this morning and did a final photo-op trip around the hotel and grounds, then on to an extended IKEA stop on the way home. Almost as soon as we got home (we actually did a rock-paper-scissors to determine who got to check e-mail first) she was getting calls from her friends (you would think she'd been gone a month!) and soon three of them were here and they were on their way out.

So, it's 8 p.m. and life is back to normal. I'm a bit more relaxed than when I left, and more than a bit more POOR than when I left. What a (not so) long, (not so) strange trip it's been.

Out of office message

2006-07-18T09:10:00.000-07:00

I'm going on vacation! I'm actually only going as far as Coronado (about 40 miles southwest of home) and I'm only going for three days and two nights, but a break from the tension that has become my life is welcome, no matter how short or close.

Last Christmas, my daughter's gift to me was the promise of a "girl's weekend" for the two of us. She was going to pay for half of it, which on her babysitting and allowance income is more than generous, and the idea was for the two of us to spend quality shopping, movie and room-service time away from home, just the two of us. Great idea, bad timing. I was working 50 hour weeks at the time and we were dealing with the death of my mother-in-law on New Year's eve, and then, in early February, my sister-in-law fell ill. Next I was suddenly laid off. And, of course, there's been the whole end-of-the-marriage thing.

So, due to my unemployed status, we had the time, but not the money (or, truthfully, the right frame of mind). So the mini-va-ca was postponed.

Until last week, when I was on my way to the interview for the first position I was actually interested in enough to schedule an interview for. (Which, apparently will NOT involved any sentence structure book learnin' 'cause I ain't no good at it.) On my way out the door, I said over my shoulder, if I get this job, since it doesn't start til the 24th, we'll have a whole week to do anything we want knowing that I'm going to have some really nice money coming in. By the time I walked back IN the door, our trip was planned. Ain't no grass growin' under MY daughter's feet, yo.

We're spending two nights at the (drum roll) world famous (cymbal crash) Hotel De Coronado on Coronado Island. OK, it's not all THAT exciting, but I've lived in San Diego county almost my entire adult life, plus the majority of my teenaged years, and I've never even BEEN there, let alone stayed the night. We're going to shop at Horton Plaza, explore the Gaslamp District, maybe go to the Zoo (after dark, when it's less than 102 degrees), eat at fancy-schmancy restaurants and just RELAX and forget all the crap we're going through. Woo Hoo, Carrots! (It just seemed to fit, Hilly.) Back Thursday!

Contributing to the delinquency.

2006-07-17T22:29:00.000-07:00

I bought my son a beer for the first time this evening. The occasion was perfect for it, family and a couple of his friends out to dinner to celebrate his 21st birthday. Yes, 21st. And he's not even my oldest. I also have a 23 year old son, but he has chosen not to drink, so tonight was a first. My daughter is 17, and other than a stolen sip from my wine glass a few years back, so far she hasn't had any interest in the demon rum... or gin or tequila or anything else alcoholic.

The 21 year old claims to have inherited my fondness for tequila, although it must be a guess on his part. I'm certain, since he only became "legal" today, that he's never actually TRIED it. When he took my well-used blender to his place a week or so ago, it was to most likely to make fruit smoothies. Oddly, a large bottle of Jose Cuervo disappeared at the same time. I'm sure it's just a coincidence.

I began my relationship with the bottle a little younger than any of my offspring. When I was 17, my boyfriend was 23, so there was no hanging around the liquor store trying to find an "adult" to score me some booze. Boyfriend was ever handy. In an era when simply breathing in at any party or concert was enough to render you unable to perform simple tasks, I was one of the very few who, to borrow a phrase, never inhaled. Other than a life-long desire to protect my brain cells (which, for some odd reason, did NOT interfere with my romance with the aforementioned Jose) I simply didn't enjoy the effects of the killer weed.

I can't remember how many times I went to concerts at the Sports Arena and, by the time the headline band took the stage, I was so tired and sleepy I would be curled up in a chair dozing while everyone else rocked on. The fact that, back then, the joke-based-on-reality was that the smoke was so thick in the arena it would obliterate the No Smoking signs may have been a contributing factor.

So, I turned to other means of altering my consciousness. I truly have never enjoyed getting drunk, but that's not to say that I didn't enjoy drinking. During my early 20's, my routine was, work from 8 to 5, go for a run, go home, feed my dog and take a shower, go out about 8 and stay out til 2:30 or 3. Rinse, lather, repeat. Usually Tuesday through Saturday I would keep up this schedule, hanging out at several local bars and joining the traveling party of my friends and co-workers who met and re-met place to place throughout the evening. I didn't become an alcoholic, I didn't rack up any DUI's, I didn't lose my home, my possessions or my mind. I had a damned good time.

That's the way I remember being single. If I tried to keep up that kind of life, now, I would be dead within a week. It might take 2 or 3 morticians and a plastic surgeon to wipe the smile off my face, but I would be dead nonetheless. So being single this time is going to be a whole new game. If anyone know the rules, kindly forward them to me ASAP. I have plans to make.

Start spreadin' the news

2006-07-17T01:40:00.000-07:00

I went to talk to my brother and sister-in-law today. I'd told them a little about what was going on, but basically in short, somewhat tearful phone calls. This was more the whole conversation, including reasons and examples and assurances that the decision is final. My sister-in-law has been ill recently and I feel so terrible about adding my problems to their already stressful lives. I feel so responsible for disrupting another part of their family at a time when they don't need more to deal with. Not that there is a good time for this kind of thing, but now couldn't be much worse.

There are some people in my life that just bring on the tears as soon as I get into the whole thing with them. I know there is a part of me that will always be sad that my life didn't turn out as I expected it would, all the growing old and being grandparents together stuff, but I really have no doubts that this is the best choice for me. So why, when my big brother asks me, in that voice he uses for only these kind of times, if I'm doing OK, do the tears just start overflowing on their own?

It was always the same with my Mom, while she was alive. I could be the strongest, most assured and together woman in the world to everyone else, but she had the ability to look straight through any facade I was wearing and see my true heart. I miss her so much and, while I'm glad neither of my parents lived to see this come to pass, I sure could use one of her hugs.

So, here I am, at 1:35 in the morning, listening to the quiet house and dripping tears on my keyboard. Tomorrow will be a better day.

Uuuggghhhh....

2006-07-15T22:16:00.000-07:00

Cheese Potatocakes
Parmesan, Cheddar & Monterey Jack Cheese, Cilantro, Onion, Fresh Dill & Mashed Potato Lightly Breaded & Fried Crisp. Topped with Fresh Chives & Herbed Ranch Salsa

Word to the wise. If you have been eating fruit and vegetables, lots of salad, lean chicken and an occasional Lean Cuisine entree for six weeks or so, do NOT go Claim Jumpers and down three cheese potatocakes. You WILL pay the price...

Uh... congratulations?

2006-07-14T20:24:00.000-07:00

It's obvious by the way various friend are receiving the news of my impending divorce that I haven't always been honest about my feelings. Case in point, I had lunch with two ex-co-workers today. One of them is a dear drinking buddy of mine. We've spent countless hours sharing pitchers of margaritas on the patio of our favorite Mexican restaurant in town, discussing everything from our co-workers to the afterlife to the state of our lives. I know a lot about her (hi, Carole!) and she knows a lot about me. So when we spoke on the phone recently, and I told her my news, she whooped so loudly I had to move the phone away from my ear. She is SO happy for me and excited about the changes I'm making in my life. It's wonderful to feel such unambiguous support from someone who's heard a lot of what brought me to this point. The other friend was someone I had a more casual working-buddy relationship with. We've always talked about our lives and our ups and downs, but not necessarily our feelings. After she had caught me up on what was going on in her life, she asked me what was new with me. With a big grin on my face I said "I'm getting a divorce!"

The look on her face was classic. She wasn't sure she'd heard me correctly and half-smiled-half-frowned, looking SO puzzled. She looked at Carole, who was ALSO smiling ear to ear, and back at me, then said tentatively, "Uh... congratulations?"

I didn't leave her hanging for long, that would have been cruel. I told her it's a good thing and she was glad for me. But it made me think. There are a lot more people who are going to react with sympathy and sadness than will immediately understand that this is the absolute right decision for me.

With a few valued exceptions, I haven't been one to broadcast my feelings and I've always tended to keep the "bad parts" to myself. Part of that was not wanting MY loved ones develop negative feelings about my soon-to-be-ex because of anything going on between he and I. My family, for instance, have always loved him like the member of the family he has been. And, even now, it hurts me that this will affect, or even possibly destroy, the relationships he has with them. My family is a loyal bunch and quick to form ranks when someone is perceived as an enemy. It's sad that he, who has always been on the same side of any conflict as I have, will be seeing us across that bitter void. Oh, we'll all try to be civil, but alliances formed in childhood and forged in blood are strong. His family is very much the same way. If you're against one of them, you're against them all.

So he and I will work through the logistics and he'll talk to his family and I'll talk to mine. But we won't be going much beyond polite chit chat with each others'. Uh... congratulations? Not so much.

No Fault

2006-07-13T20:55:00.000-07:00

I'm really pissed that we have so much legal crap to get through before we can actually go our separate ways. It's bad enough that a relationship is over, but now we have to jump through a thousand more hoops to END this union than it took to begin it. I think that is SO backwards. It should be much more challenging to commit to a marriage than it is to get out of one. Maybe people would have more of an idea what they were getting into if you had to actually educate yourself a bit BEFORE taking the leap. Not that it would have stopped us, mind you. We were very much in love. 24 years later, not so much. And now we have to summon all the civility we can manage to work together on dismantling the structure we've built and maintained all this time.

When we get around to initiating said legal crap, we'll be filing in California, the land of the no-fault divorce. The government powers-that-be have decided that it's far easier on all parties involved if you simply agree to disagree and merrily go your separate ways.

So it's not my fault we're spitting up and it's not HIS fault we're splitting up (OK, it really is his fault, but not according to the state of California) it's NObody's fault. It's just one of those things. Just a big, fat case of buyer's remorse. You know, like you decided you didn't like the make or model and took it back to the dealer for a refund. Nobody's fault it didn't look right in your driveway. Nobody's fault you couldn't afford the payments. Nobody's fault the color clashed with the flowers in your front yard. Nobody's fault you wanted OUT, you felt strangled and emotionally compromised by the terms of the damned contract and nobody's fault that if you have to drive the freakin' thing ONE MORE DAY, someone's going to die a violent...

Oh, sorry, got kind of carried away there. The point is, in California, if you want a divorce, you GET a divorce, no fault, no blame.

So who am I to blame myself? California, in all it's wisdom, says it's not my fault I couldn't keep living with things the way they were. I'm not supposed to blame myself that I'm ending a union that's lasted a quarter of a century so that I can learn how to be myself, again. Well, hell, I guess the great state of California would even disagree when I call myself a selfish ego-centric bitch. But looking on the bright side, HE can't call me one, either!

Oh, and by the way, it really is all HIS fault, just so we're clear. I tend to get really honest when I'm pissed.

No longer on the unemployment line

2006-07-12T23:23:00.000-07:00

Well, I have a job, again. Happened real quick. A guy from a staffing agency called on Monday evening and told me about the position. He said that he'd found my resume online and it sounded as if I would be a good match. He asked me to email him my resume and a couple of references. He called back Tuesday and set up the interview for today. I went in at 2 and was leaving by 2:40, WITH THE JOB. It's a contract position, only guaranteed for 6 months, but it's a huge company with a large graphics department, so if I like it and they like me, it could turn into something permanent.

For the six months, I'll be part of a 5 person team responsible for reworking their company image and all its packaging. It's a big bio-tech company about 20 mile south of where I live. The have two gi-gan-tic buildings and over 900 employees in-plant. They hold dozens of patents for testing equipment and methods to screen blood supplies for std's and viruses. Also for testing of individuals. My last two positions, over the last 8 years, have been as the in-house designer for small manufacturers. I enjoyed the creative freedom and the autonomy, but I'm ready to work as part of a team for a while.

It pays really well, but no benefits during the contract period. The company itself is really employee-friendly, though, so we'll see how it goes. Maybe it'll turn into more. And, even though they've hired me, I don't start until the 24th, so I get a week to play while not worrying.

I'm going to keep this post short, but I didn't want to miss a day. I've posted every day since I started writing, again, and it feels good. Not that I'm generating much interest or readership, but it's good discipline. And the point is to chronicle my re-emergence into the world, as my life changes. This job should bring a lot of change. Goody, more to write about!

More to the point

2006-07-11T08:10:00.000-07:00

My mind's been bouncing around like a pinball the last couple of days. I punked out and posted two meme's in a span of three days. Just couldn't concentrate on what it was I'm dealing with, here. I've been thinking about friendship and, as the title says, more to the point, the fact that I don't HAVE many friends. Also the fact that I have a difficult time making those connections that turn into friendships. I'm mostly content with that, but right now, I'm feeling the aloneness (aloneosity? whatever!)

I grew up moving a lot, often only being in a place for a year or two at most. I went to 8 schools in my K-12 years and we usually moved during the summer, so, until school started, we were pretty much on our own. I find it very easy to speak to strangers, and I'm exceedingly comfortable on my own, but actually forging real attachments is not easy for me. I think it's a skill you develop when you're young and a pattern you follow from then on. But are there some skills I can learn to make it easier for me?

I have a few close friends whom I've known for a long time. SJ, Lia and I have known each other since we were all 15 and I've known Jani since I was 17. There are a couple of people I've met through various jobs with whom I keep in touch, but sporadically. All in all, not a large roster.

I tend to be someone that others can come to for comfort and advice. I'm a shoulder to cry on and a calm place in the storm. But I also, with a few exceptions, face my own storms alone. It's not easy for me to ask for sympathy, or advice. And not many of my acquaintances see me as someone who would ever need that damp but welcome shoulder.

So, here I am, facing a huge life change. How do I widen my circle of friends as I get back out into the non-married world? Is there some secret way I don't know about to forge friendships that last? Southern California isn't known for it's "Howdy, Neighbor" friendliness. We travel from familiar place to familiar place in our isolated cars and try not to make eye contact with the other drivers 'cause you never know when someone's going to have a melt-down and you don't want to be in their line of sight when they do. Work is usually a good place to meet new people, but I'm doing free-lance from home right now. So, when I get back to an outside-the-home job, what can I do to find people I'll enjoy knowing without seeming strange and stalker-like. Any advice? I'm open to suggestions.

MEME-OLOGY

2006-07-10T19:32:00.000-07:00

Stolen from Mr. Fabulous in honor of SJ (it’s five… count them… FIVE sets of TEN!)
GRUB-OLOGY
What is your salad dressing of choice? Honey mustard in restaurants, Kraft Free Catalina at home.
What is your favorite fast food restaurant? Pick Up Stix.
What is your favorite sit down restaurant? Claim Jumpers, mainly because it’s become a family tradition to take the kids there for their birthday dinners and there are so many great memories associated with that.
On average, what size tip do you leave at a restaurant? 20%. Rarely less than that and often a wee bit more.
What food could you eat every day for two weeks and not get sick of? Pasta with Olive Garden Alfredo sauce.
Name three foods you detest above all others. Sushi, shrimp and scallops (sense a theme?)
What is your favorite dish to order in a Chinese restaurant? Orange chicken.
What are your pizza toppings of choice? Barbeque sauce, chicken and lots of cheese.
What do you like to put on your toast? Cream cheese and strawberry jam.
What is your favorite type of gum? I don’t chew gum, ever.

TECH-OLOGY
Number of contacts in your cell phone? 101.
Number of contacts in your email address book? Only 28. I guess I don’t have many email buddies.
What is your wallpaper on your computer? Evening Reflections (A blue and gold abstract sunset-looking thingy that came with my G5.)
What is your screensaver on your computer? Nature Patterns (Also a Mac standard. My daughter set them.)
Are there naked pictures saved on your computer? No. Where can I get some?
How many land line phones do you have in your house? 4.
How many televisions are in your house? 5.
What kitchen appliance do you use the least? Crock Pot. I just can’t get behind the idea of food cooking all day long.
What is the format of the radio station you listen to the most? They claim to have no format. It’s KPRI 102.1,here in San Diego county. Their “motto” is “Rock Without Rules.”
How many sex toys do you own that require batteries? None. Although I’ve been known to hop up on the dryer for some cheap thrills. (I guess that doesn’t count, since it’s a gas dryer.)

BI-OLOGY
What do you consider to be your best physical attribute? My eyes.
Are you right handed or left handed? Right handed.
Do you like your smile? Only when no one is TELLING me to smile.
Have you ever had anything removed from your body? Three babies.
Would you like to? There’s this little mole on my back…
Do you prefer to read when you go to the bathroom? That’s a personal and somewhat gross question. (And isn’t that what God made Reader’s Digest for?)
Which of your five senses do you think is keenest? Probably hearing. I SAID, PROBABLY HEARING!
When was the last time you had a cavity? A couple of years ago.
What is the heaviest item you lift regularly? 40 pound bags of dog food.
Have you ever been knocked unconscious? The one (and only) time I tried surfing. Made it to the shore on my knees on the board, stood up in the water and was hit in the back of the head by another surfer’s board. Had to be pulled out of the water before I drowned. I took it as nature’s way of telling me that surfing was NOT my sport.

MISC-OLOGY
If it were possible, would you want to know the day you were going to die? I think so, simply because I didn’t have the chance to say goodbye to my Mom what she died.
If you could change your first name, what would you change it to? I like my name, but I would like to make all the people (family and a few old friends) who call me “Sherry” instead of “Sheryl” stop doing it.
How do you express your artistic side? I’m a graphic designer by trade, so a lot of that creativity is channeled into that. I also enjoy writing.
What color do you think you look best in? Maroon.
How long do you think you could last in a medium security prison? I don’t know. (I do well with crazy people, though, so I might have better luck if I could get transferred to the psych ward.)
Have you ever swallowed a non-food item by mistake? I don’t think so, unless you count cat hair.
If we weren’t bound by society’s conventions, do you have a relative you would make a pass at? NOOOOO! (Oh, did I scream that?)
How often do you go to church? Occasionally (as in, on occasions such as Easter and Christmas. My oldest son is a youth pastor and I went more often when he lived in California and I had a chance to see him deliver a sermon.
Have you ever saved someone’s life? Yes, my husband when he choked on food and I used the Hiemlich on him. He’s 6’4”, and even though I’m not short (5’9”) it was not easy.
Has someone ever saved yours? The guy who pulled me out of the water when I tried to surf (see above.)

DARE-OLOGY
For this last section, if you would do it for less or more money, indicate how much
Would you walk naked for a half mile down a public street for $100,000? No, but people might be willing to pay me that NOT to.
Would you kiss a member of the same sex for $100? Sure.
Would you have sex with a member of the same sex for $10,000? No.
Would you allow one of your little fingers to be cut off for $200,000? If I needed the money for something really important, such as an operation for one of my kids.
Would you never blog again for $50,000? I’m pretty new to this, so it’s not a huge habit, yet, but I would want at least $100,000 to stop.
Would you pose naked in a magazine for $250,000? No.
Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for $1000? I don’t know if I even COULD. I’m a real wimp when it comes to spicy stuff.
Would you, without fear of punishment, take a human life for $1,000,000? No. The only thing that might move me to hurt someone else is if they were harming someone else, especially one of my loved ones. Then, I still don’t know if I could kill. I would WANT to and would if it was the only way to stop them.
Would you shave your head and get your entire body waxed for $5,000? No, but I might for $500,000.
Would you give up watching television for a year for $25,000? Sure, I could catch up on my reading.

The world seems a little bigger

2006-07-09T22:03:00.000-07:00

Since I grew up and became a "responsible adult," I've thought that times of great stress are bad times to make major, life-changing decisions. When something big was going on in my life, I tended to let it simmer in the pot, stirring it now and then, adding a spice here and there. I would set a date, usually a few months in the future, and tell myself that if the situation, problem, whatever, hadn't resolved itself by that date, I would reach a conclusion then. No one could call me impulsive, not when every decision I made affected so many others so much. I stayed in jobs I didn't like, because they were secure and offered good benefits. I renewed the lease when I didn't really like the location, because the kids didn't want to change schools. I was stable. Steady. I thought of the family before I thought of myself.

Well, guess what. Two of my three kids are out on their own (one in another state) and the third will be starting her senior year of high school soon. She wants to finish out school here, but she is wide open about where she wants to go to college. She would be completely on board if I wanted to move us ANYwhere, and may very well end up somewhere other than where I am, anyway. I'm just beginnig to realize that I can live anywhere I want to. I just have no idea where that may be.

I was raised a Navy brat. Born in Tennessee, lived in Virginia, Florida, Texas and 5 different cities in California by the time I graduated from high school. When my dad retired, I was happy to put down some roots. But roots, for someone with no "home town" are basically family and friends. My parents and grandparents are all gone, now. I have two brothers but only one still lives in this area. My best friend lives in Georgia and, though there are a few other long-term friendships I value, I'm not really tied to being here by much more than that.

My brothers and I used to play a game when we were small, where we would build our own utopia. We would choose the best features from each of the places we had lived, and "create" our own ideal living situation. We liked the school best from Pensacola, for instance, and the house from Milpitas. Maybe I would want my friends from Portsmith, and my brothers would want theirs from Oxnard. If only we had the power to move heaven and earth.

When you're divorcing, you're forced to make all kinds of major decisions. I think it just might be the best time to do something you've always wanted to do. If you don't like the profession you've been in, maybe it's time to try something new. Always wanted to learn to scuba dive? Strap on a couple of tanks and jump in. Unless your children are small and you have to do the shared custody thing, move if you don't like where you live.

Some day you're going to be ready to try it again in the love game. By the time you're ready to be involved again, the changes may have brought people into your life whom you would never have met had you not taken your life in a new direction. And, even if that isn't what you're looking for or it doesn't happen, maybe you'll be happier with your new job, or house, or hobby or even state. Or at least your state of mind.

My first Meme

2006-07-08T15:22:00.000-07:00

I just got home from a daytime party and I have plans for this evening. I don't feel much like being all wordy and serious right now, so I'm going to use a meme that's been making the rounds:

The rules are simple:
Go to Wikipedia.
In the Search box, type your birth month and day (but not year).
List three events that happened on your birthday.
List two interesting birthdays and one interesting death.
List one holiday or observance (if any).

My Birthday: February 11.

Three events:

1858 - The Blessed Virgin Mary reputedly appears to Saint Bernadette Soubirous of Lourdes.
(Cool! I'm not Catholic, but I still like miracles.)

1963 - The Beatles tape 10 tracks for their first album, including "Please, Please Me".
(It's a little know fact that those 10 songs were dedicated to me, personally.)

1999 - Pluto, a planet with an irregular orbit, changes from the eighth to ninth planet furthest from the sun. It had been the eighth furthest since 1979.
(I've always liked our smallest planet - what's not to like about a planet named after a cartoon dog?)

Birthdays:

1919 - Eva Gabor, Hungarian-born actress (d. 1995)
(The kinder, gentler Gabor. Not only was she the voice for Miss Bianca in the Rescuers movies and Eddie Albert's wife in Green Acres, she never slapped a cop in her life.)

1962 - Sheryl Crow, American singer/songwriter, musician
(She's cool 'cause of the way she's handling a really crummy time in her life, and she spells her name right.)

Death:

1986 - Frank Herbert, American author (b. 1920)
(Author of one of my all-time favorite Sci-Fi series, The Dune saga.

Observance:

Catholicism - Feast day of Our Lady of Lourdes
(What a coincidence that this falls on the same day as the miracle, who'd have guessed?)

Seeing the world 20/20

2006-07-07T20:38:00.000-07:00

Today's post has nothing to do with breaking up. Just a little trip down memory lane, with a white cane and seeing-eye dog.

About 5 years ago I had lasik surgery and only wear reading glasses now for small print and prolonged computer-staring, but since the tender age of 9, I was completely dependent on glasses or contact lenses to avoid running into well, walls, trees, other people, pretty much anything and everything. The first time I went to an optometrist (after my teacher had to tell my parents to take me) I couldn't read the SECOND line on the eye chart. The big "E" was all I could manage and it just got worse from there. So, glasses until my teens, then contact lenses for years upon years. I started wearing them when all they had was the hard plastic version. The ones that popped out of your eye if you looked sideways and blinked. And yet, I rarely lost them, or rather, I usually FOUND them after they popped out.

There was the time I was washing my dog and dropped one in the mud puddle under her. Yep, dug it out. Wasn't even scratched. The time I lost one in a pool and my brother and my boyfriend decided to reverse the pool pump and back-flush hundreds of gallons of water through the foot of a pair of pantyhose until they found it. Macgyver would have been proud. And, one of my favorites, the day I lost one during a passionate moment and spent 45 minutes searching the blankets and pillows and the rug around the bed until the hubby started pointing at my left breast and chuckling. What the hell? Here I am, one eye closed, on hands and knees, searching every damned inch of the bed and bedroom and he's finding something funny about my bare breasteges? Since he was laughing too hard to tell me what was so freakin' funny, I looked down, only to find the missing little disc riding dead center on my nipple. But we DID find it.

The only time I just couldn't recover a lost lens happened in Alaska. When I was in my mid twenties, I wanted to visit Alaska and didn't have the budget for a cruise-ship vaca. I started looking into it and discovered that in the southern part of Alaska, they had a ferry system that was a reasonably priced way to travel. The ferries were huge and had showers and cafeterias and lots of places to sleep between stops. So I packed myself a backpack, flew to Seattle and hopped on a ship that took me to Ketchikan. From there, I spent 3 1/2 weeks exploring fishing villages and old Russian settlements and Native outposts and living with what I could comfortably carry. One day, about half way through the trip, I lost my left contact lens in the shower on a ferry. Down the f-ing drain. Well, THAT was one I wasn't getting back. I had brought an extra pair along, so I popped in the back-up left and went on with my wanderings.

Close to the end of the trip, I was in Skagway, the northern-most town that the ferries reached. I was on an old boardwalk that was built literally on the side of a cliff, kind of suspended out over the nothingness of a deep canyon. Gorgeous! HAD to take a photo. Bringing the camera up to my eye, I realize that my left lens, my back up lens, is popping out and, in painfully slow motion, hitting the boardwalk and dropping between the old wooden planks down into the seemingly bottomless canyon. Crap. Now I can only HALF see the beautiful scenery.

Now to say I was blind without my lenses is not an exaggeration. I could not see clearly more than 4 inches in front of my eye. I was my eye doctor's greatest success story and he liked to have his colleagues stop by to look at my perfectly fitted lenses when I came in for my check-ups. And he had told me MANY times to never, EVER mix up my lenses. He never said why, exactly, but, from the serious way he said it, I figured I would ruin what little sight I had left if I dared go against this prime directive.

But, here I was, alone in Alaska, 4 or 5 days left to my trip, everything I had at my disposal in a pack on my back, and really, really blind in one eye. So I threw caution to the wind and put. the. extra. right. lens. in. my. left. eye.

I blinked. Blinked again. Everything looked OK. Strange.

As quickly as I could, I found a pay phone. I called my mom in California and asked her to look up my optometrist's number. With shaking hands, I placed the call and, when I got him on the line, I told him where I was and what had happened. I told him, apologetically, that I was in a very bad situation and, even though I KNEW I wasn't supposed to mix up my lenses, I had been FORCED to wear two right lenses. What, I asked him, irreparable damage was I doing to my eyesite?

There was a moment of silence at the other end. Oh, damn, I thought, it's so bad he's having trouble telling me! Then I realized what I was hearing was that kind of wheezing you hear when someone is laughing REALLY hard. When he managed to get himself under control, he told me that the reason he had so strongly cautioned me against mixing up my lenses was that, since my prescription was so SIMILAR in both eyes, it would be almost impossible for me to figure out which was which. Great. I just spent 10 bucks in laundry and snack change calling southern California from Alaska to be laughed at. Not the high point of my trip. The up-side was my doc had a great story for all his eye-doctor buddies. I changed doctors.

This job's a joke!

2006-07-06T18:05:00.000-07:00

These days, I'm between full-time jobs. I'm doing some free-lancing from home, and scouting around for a new gig. I haven't decided what stance to take, matrimonially, when I do start a new job.

If I say I'm single, that may describe my state of mind but not my legal status. Married isn't really correct, either. True, I can still claim that designation on my W-4, but it doesn't tell the truth of my situation. Getting involved with a detailed explanation doesn't appeal to me, however, so I have to figure out a way to answer the inevitable question when it comes up. I prefer to be a bit reserved with personal information and friendships when starting out at a new place of business. If you form alliances too quickly, you may find yourself at cross-purposes with the people you would most like to hang with. I've always tried to not get too involved with office politics and keep on most everyone's good side, but that doesn't extend to finding myself cast as a sidekick to the office beyotch. If I can't BE the beyotch, I certainly don't want to play a supporting role.

The thing is, work relationships can be really deep and important. They involve common purposes and, usually, shared personality traits. Non-work friendships tend to line up closer along age and similar-life experience parameters. Singles in their 20's hang with singles in their 20's, young moms with young moms, guys who enjoy sports with... well, you get my drift. Somehow, in the work place, the age-and-stage-of-life criteria don't seem as important. I've had best work friends that were young enough to be my daughter and older than me by a generation. I've forged wonderful soul-searching-talks-over-drinks-after-work habits with both men AND women.

The most important trait I'm drawn to in a co-worker is the ability to laugh when things are really tense. I thrive in deadline situations, and my sense of humor gets sillier and sillier the more pressured I feel. I have had to contain a case of the giggles in MANY an inappropriate situation and I love it when I catch the eye of a co-worker and just KNOW that they'll get the joke that's in my head, after the meeting. I also have, several times, had the privilege of being good friends with THE person who always seems to know EVERYthing that's going on. It works well for me, because I tend to keep to my corner of the work-place, staring at my computer screen for hours on end, creating lovely pictures and writing epic prose. Yeah, right, but I really DO seem to miss most of the drama. And, since I'm known to keep what I hear to myself, I end up knowing all the dirt. Since I won't pass any of it on, no one worries about sharing with me.

I think it's about time to find some new work-buds. Anyone know of an opening for an experienced (Mac) graphic designer and copy writer in the North San Diego County area? I'm not cheap, but I'm well worth it, if only for the bad jokes.

There's a reason they're called opposing corners

2006-07-05T19:30:00.000-07:00

I often hear the question (it's circulating right now in the 62 question meme): "Do you believe that opposites attract?" I don't think that TRUE opposites would find each other attractive for two reasons. First, there would be no frame of reference to relate to each other. And second, we're all somewhat narcissistic and want to see at least a little bit of ourselves in the ones we love. We want our significant others to both complement and compliment us.

All that being understood, there are ab-so-FREAKIN'-lutely opposite traits that should make you SERIOUSLY reconsider marriage, or really, anything more long-term than buying green bananas together. For instance:

If you are a reader and enjoy all things literary and your potential honey has never met a classic he... well, has never met a classic, you might want to reconsider. I don't mean someone with reading PROBLEMS, here, like dyslexia or someone who would rather get his books on tape, I'm talking about someone who thinks "To Kill a Mockingbird" is a hunter's guide and Scout is the lone Native American on an old west wagon train. There are SO many things voracious readers learn while wandering their book-worlds. If, every time you want to talk about some new idea or perspective you've gained, he or she gets that "oh, damn, how long is THIS going to last?" look on their face, you're going to stop "sharing" after a while. It's the same with sports and non-sports people. You may listen, you may even go to a few games to keep them company, but if you really have no interest in something that is so fundamentally part of their life, you'll eventually start spending that time apart.

If you see your life force like a deep, wide river, and enjoy challenging yourself to go to ever-increasing levels of self awareness (I'll be serving Kool-Aid later, stick around) and your partner lightly trips over the surface, barely getting their tootsies damp, the chances of you NOT driving each other crazy after a while are slim. Some people are works-in-progress. Others are "what you see is what you get." Not. Really. Compatible.

If you're a pedal to the metal, road-raging maniac, have a complete and colorful rated R vocabulary and more finger signs than the hearing impaired, what do you think a road trip will be like with a calm, OVERly polite driver who thinks God gave us red lights and traffic jams so we can listen to more easy jazz on the car radio? At some point, one of you is going to pull over and leave the other by the side of the road.

Cat people and dog people? You have a chance. You can get one of each. Camping people and room-service people? Someone's going home early.

And what about those who consider the bedroom to be for two things... sleeping and sex, and those who balance the laptop on their knees while reaching for the remote to turn down the TV so they can make a call to order Chinese food to EAT IN BED?!?!? Yep. Separate bedrooms.

Now, I don't claim to be an expert here or anything. I'm sure for every couple who's split up over any of these incompatibilities, there are many more who've found the common ground and are blissfully compromising. But, hey, if you know a book-worm, introspective, sports-indifferent, cat-and-hotel-loving easy rider whose home office is in his bedroom, send him my way, OK?

Not so happy holidays

2006-07-04T22:45:00.000-07:00

OK, I'm glad that's over. I just got home from the first party we've attended since we agreed to split. The occasion was a holiday barbecue and welcome home party for the daughters of friends who have been out of the country. These people have been our couple-date couple for almost 20 years. Our kids are all the same ages and grew up as extended-family siblings. Their 18 year old and our 17 year old were neither one born when we started hanging out together.

I had a yucky feeling in the pit of my stomach the whole day. We have to, at some point, tell these lovely people with whom we've shared countless hours playing Spades, watched each other's children grow from toddlers to adults, gone to theme parks and rented mountain cabins and shared the loss of parents, that we won't be a "we" soon. Next year, when the fireworks are going up, we probably won't all be together. Maybe I'll be with them and maybe my daughter will join me, or maybe I'll be with other friends and he'll be there. But, in all likelihood, there won't be another shared family holiday.

This is the kind of thing that's going to make this next year really difficult. Each occasion that is a last as a legal family. Each one where no one needs to decide which one of us to invite. Right now, we're still in that limbo between being a couple "forever" and being divorced. People will wonder why. "They always seems like a perfect couple." "Never would have thought THEY would split up." "Did one of them cheat?" "What happened?"

Married couples look at a divorce and weigh their relationships on it's scale. "They lasted longer than we have. Does that mean we could hit trouble in a couple of years?" "What can we fix so we don't end up like them?"

As I see it, there is no magic number of years, no maximum height of hurdles, no depth of despair that, once reached and survived, gives you a guaranteed ticket to 'til-death-do-you-part. Marriage is ALWAYS a balancing act, bad against good, love against irritation, passion against indifference, and hopefully, you keep that scale leaning toward the better half, or at the very least, somewhere in the middle. And, when you hit that permanent tilt to the downside and realize that there's nothing you can do to get the balance back, it spreads in ripples though the lives of your friends and family, and everyone has to mourn, just a little bit. Happy Independence Day, indeed.

Crawling up out of the pit

2006-07-03T01:49:00.000-07:00

Clinical depression has been a factor in my life since I was a teenager. I'm very well informed on the subject and (with all due insincere apologies to Tom-who-the-hell-does-he-think-he-is-Cruise) I've long known my own moods well enough to know when I need medication and generally how much. But, odd little disease that it is, there are both the physical components and the situational components. If your "levels" are out of whack, no amount of cheering up will make you feel better. Consider postpartum depression, for instance. Most mothers (and you can multiply this 10-fold for me) are happy to be moms, in love with the daddy, basking in friend and familial love, and yet, many get so depressed they can barely raise their heads off the pillow. Physical depression. You. Need. Medication. Now.

Then there's the situational type. Your life has reached a place where it's just not working. You've tried to fix the problems and failed. You're stuck and all you see ahead of you is more of the same. Often, in this case, no amount of substance, prescribed or from the corner liquor store, is gonna help. That was me a while back. I knew that happiness was NOT just around the corner as long as I stayed on the path I was on. So, issues were faced. Decisions were made. A new path opened up before me in all its who-knows-where-it-will-lead glory.

I'm in such a buoyant mood, I wake up excited every day (depending on my dreams, some mornings I wake up more excited than others...) I'm realizing more each day how depressed I was. I was actually on TWO anti-depressants, one of which I have taken myself off altogether, and the other one I'm thinking of cutting the dosage in half. Considering my life-long need for an outside way to regulate my serotonin, I'll probably never be completely anti-depressant free, but I look at it like a diabetic who is able to reduce their dependence on insulin if they lose weight. I just lost 235 pounds of depressing weight!

OK, that was mean. I haven't lost him, I'm just offering him up to the rest of the world. Look, here's a great guy, kind and responsible, attractive, with a lot of common sense, somewhat used and maybe a little bit abused, but with a lot of good miles left on him. Any offers?

I keep thinking back to times when I was aware that another woman was more than a little interested in my husband. It's happened a few times over the years and I teased him about it at the time, secure in our relationship and able to turn it into a joke. I wonder if I can find any of those little whores, oops, I mean lovely women now. I really want him to be happy. Really. See, when you're looking forward to the future with as much eagerness as I am, you want everyone around you to feel as good as you do. With or without medication.

I have some 'splaining to do

2006-07-02T15:00:00.000-07:00

My very first "commenter", other than my best friend of 38 years, SJ (we met when we were 5, remember, hon?), was Karl. I've been reading Karl's bog daily for a couple of months, along with a growing number of familiar contributors, such as Dave, Kevin, Belinda and Hilly. I quite admire Karl's sense of humor and find myself often laughing out loud at my screen. However, his comment leads me to think that I need to be a little more clear about my intent, here. I'm truly not making fun of the institute of marriage, divorce, my soon-to-be-ex or really, ANYthing except my somewhat inept attempts to find the humor in what is actually a sad event. My marriage has been a love story in every sense except the unfortunate lack of a happily-ever-after. We've enjoyed a quarter of a century of shared ups and downs, produced three WONDERFUL children (who are all fanTAStic people in their own right(s), if I do say so myself... and I do) and all-in-all had a great time together.

However, and this is a BIG however, some relationships, no matter how well conceived, just stop working. And, without using any beating-a-dead-horse metaphors, it's better, sometimes, to let go before the differences become what define you instead of all the good times. It's not that I'm happy I'm getting divorced (OK, I am a little) it's more that I'm happy that I have a chance to redefine myself and my life. I'm not going to be someone's wife any more. I'm not going to be making choices based on BOTH of us being happy, anymore. You know that feeling you have when you start a new job, or you were the new kid in school and you knew that you could be anybody you wanted to be, 'cause none of these people knew you and that was really exciting? Well, I have that feeling about my entire LIFE (except for the "Mom" part, that title will always be my favorite designation).

As I have said, in a previous post, a lot of marriage is about compromise. You don't resent doing it, it's part of being a couple. Having "blended" for almost 27 years, I'm ready to be a bit more selfish. And, to be honest, the STBE is fine with this decision, also. He's not driven to chronicle his experience as I am, but he never was the introspective type. I have what I call "pin-ball" brain when working through a new twist, meaning that little ball of an idea just bounces around inside my mind, pinging and dinging off various answers and questions until I weigh all possible sides of the issue and reach a conclusion. He's more a "Point A to Point B" kind of guy. As often as not, his method derives an answer just a good as mine, and with a lot less fol-de-rol, but we are each fond or our own styles. Again, blending is the point.

So, now I'm out of the blend and into the blender. Along with a healthy amount of tequila, I plan to mix many new ingredients into the cocktail that is my life. (Sorry, I like word pictures and sometimes over-reach.) Will I be misunderstood if my toast is "Bottoms UP!"?

Love over ice, with a splash of reality

2006-07-02T02:25:00.000-07:00

Since I've never felt it was right to over-lap relationships and I still respect my soon-to-be-ex, even if I'm no longer in love with him, it will probably be quite a while before I'm ready to be ready for love (or even lust - the enjoyable alternative when you don't ever plan to tie another knot.) However, that doesn't mean I can't (or don't) have a complete and imaginative fantasy life. I plan my dreams ahead of time and have often been successful in waking up "the morning after" with a bit of a blush on my face. I'm sure the reality will be MUCH more anxiety-riddled, however.

Case in point, I hope to become involved in my first post-marriage passionate relationship in the late fall months. That way, I can wear more clothes when I'm feeling insecure and it will seem appropriate. Living in southern California, there are far too many social occasions that call for lots of skin-baring and skimpy-clothing-wearing in the spring and summer months. I envision late autumn walks through crunching red and yellow leaves (we do TOO have fall colors in So.Cal., you just have to look a little further to find them.) And then, when the temperature drops low enough, maybe we'll get physical.

"Why?" you ask, do I want it to be cold weather for the big event? Well, several reasons (I told you I've put a lot of thought into this...) First, I think fireplaces are really great for snuggling in front of. We only get a month or two window of fireplace opportunity here in the land of perpetual good weather. Second, EVERYbody (and their bodies) look better in candlelight and candles just don't seem appropriate when it's 82 degrees out at 11 p.m. Third, cold air does that really neat thing to nipples and when the nipples tighten up, they tend to draw the rest of the boobiage up with them. Even (slightly) older breasteges tend to look perkier in the cold. It's always better to be at attention then at ease, is it not?

And, lastly, most exploration during the winter will be done with the hands and various other body parts, while snuggled under cushy comforters and surrounded by cozy pillows and the like. By the time spring rolls around and you're beginning to get full-on daytime looks at what you've been playing with all those nights, you've already developed a good, healthy affection for each other's bodies, flaws and all.

All-in-all, I think it's a sound plan. I'm sure I'll have plenty of time to perfect it in the meantime. Until then, I guess dreams and fantasies will have to suffice.

Moving next door

2006-07-01T02:03:00.000-07:00

How weird is this? I'm getting a room of my own!

Our home has 4 bedrooms and we're down to one resident offspring. So, since we have no estimate as to when one or the other of us will move out, I've decided that I want my own space. Somehow, and I have no idea HOW this happened, the soon-to-be-ex established rights to the big, cushy king size bed in "our" room. Actually, it has a lot to do with logistics. He's 6'4" and would hang off any sofa he tried to sleep on. Also, he leaves for work a lot earlier than I do and consequently heads up to bed between 9 and 10, a time I consider to be "early evening."

I'm a night owl and frequent insomniac. If I had the choice, I would never go to sleep before 2 or 3 in the morning. I once took one of those personal preference quizzes that you get in emails from friends. One of the questions was "Sunrise or sunset?" I answered, "Both. I love a sunrise when I'm on my way home after leaving the house at sunset the day before." So, I tend to fall asleep on the couch with the TV showing the second Tonight Show of the night (the one AFTER Last call with Carson Daly, after The Late Show with Conan O'Bryan and after the FIRST Tonight Show of the night.) Dave Letterman is a close personal friend. There is NO truth to the rumor that I was accused of stalking him, however. That was someone else altogether!

So I'm going out this weekend to buy myself a new bed for my new room. Can't decide whether to get a double or a queen. For the foreseeable future, a double would be more than adequate. But there's the DISTANT future to consider. What happens when all of this stuff is settled and I'm actually out there in the world again, a single woman looking for love in all the wrong places (hopefully!)? Will I have the funds to upgrade or should I just go ahead and do that now? And, if I DO get the "big girl's bed" will the relative emptiness be an unhappy reminder of my soon-to-be-aloneness?

At this point, I tend to think that all a big bed to myself will remind me of is that I'm not going to fall off the couch if I put down my book and turn over to see who's on with Craig Ferguson tonight. That HAS to be a good feeling.

Learning to fly solo

2006-06-30T01:40:00.000-07:00

I've been living with this knowledge, this light at the end of a long, LONG tunnel, for a couple of weeks now. Each day I've had mild to major epiphanea (I don't think that's really the multiple form of epiphany, but WTH?) about how this will affect my life. Even being a generally self-aware personality (by that I mean, if I'm being an ass, I usually KNOW I'm being an ass) day-to-day living in such a long term relationship HAS to change you in some ways. The fact that I haven't been happy with the "state" of the relationship for quite a while has changed me in even more ways.

So one of the major light-bulb-above-the-head moments was the day I realized that I didn't need to wear any of the masks that I've hidden behind the last few years. I can remember things I used to enjoy doing, that he had no use for, so I did less and less often. I can set my schedule to feel right for me and me alone, and not feel as if I need to compromise or accommodate. I'm not trying to imply that my husband was demanding or expected dinner on the table at the same time every day or anything even close to that. I wouldn't have put up with that and he isn't that type of guy, anyway. I just mean, that in any long term, living-together arrangement, you tend to move in the same cycle after a while. You develop patterns, based on shared schedules and needs. And always, when you make a decision, you consider the other person's needs as well as your own. You accommodate. You compromise. You blend.

I lived alone for several years before I married and I always really enjoyed it. If I wasn't sleepy, I didn't go to bed. If I wasn't hungry, I didn't eat. And if I wanted to watch an old movie and eat toast with peanut butter in bed at 3 a.m., then that was what I did, and I was the only one who had to put up with waking up, tired and red-eyed, in a bed full of toast crumbs.

Loneliness is not something I think I'll have any problem with. I've always enjoyed my own company and my daughter and I are close. Maybe not "go ahead and wake me up at 2 a.m. if you want to talk" close, but I thoroughly enjoy her company. But the idea of unlimited independence and privacy doesn't freak me out in the least. I often said, when the kids were small and assumed complete and total rights to my time and attention, that I was a very private and independent person with absolutely NO privacy or independence. Guess what? I think I'll be able to get my fill of both in the not-too-distant future. So, if you need someone to talk to, and it's 3:30 in the morning in California, I'll be there. That is, if you can understand me with peanut butter in my mouth.

The time has come...

2006-06-29T01:37:00.000-07:00

I've been married for 24 years and two months. I'm hoping to time my divorce for the day AFTER my 25th anniversary, because, as my best friend pointed out when I discussed it with her, I've always been a huge fan of the ironic.

For a myriad of reasons, my husband and I have decided to go our separate ways. We're not fighting and we're still living in the same house. Our youngest child is still at home and neither of us will probably move out until she finishes high school next June. So it should be an interesting year. The big decision has been made, but there are HUNDREDS of smaller ones that will have to be debated, hashed out, negotiated and settled. It's overwhelming to think of dismantling the structure of so many years of co-habitation.

We still share a bathroom, but we don't share a bed. Our clothes are in the same closet, but we go out with different friends on Friday nights. Neither of us plans to date any time soon, and we are truly hoping to remain friends, but how will everyone ELSE react when we show up together at a party or family birthday? Is my family required to hate him? Will his sisters refer to me as "the bitch" from now on?

All I know right now is that I'm as certain as I can be that this is the right thing to do. And I hope to make this divorce as much fun as it can possibly be. Whoo Hoo! Bring in on!