A good friend who is a gifted writer recently told me that doing something he loves often helps him get past writer’s block. So for a week I took his advice but still nothing. Until today. Oddly it was doing something I dislike. I was in a mall, shopping for dresses. Don’t get me wrong I like buying new clothing, but I don't like the shopping process. It also helps my attitude if I am shopping in comfortable shoes, which is simply a matter of planning. I had not planned to spend four hours in Macy's today. But a charitable event was looming and I realized after my class ended that if I did not get to the nearest mall today, I’d be attending the gala in something <gasp> "vintage". I had this epiphany while sporting pointy toed boots with heels.
Trying on formal wear is as deflating as trying on bathing suits. If the dress is not showing all of my flaws, it’s probably because it fits like a potato sack. And if it fits like a glove, that means I will be wearing full body Spanx and suffering from oxygen deprivation by the end of the evening. But that gets into a whole other realm of shopping for unmentionables which is about as satisfying as installing french drains: nobody sees them but your foundation is questionable without them.
My past experience has been that Macy's carries a large selection of reasonably priced formal attire. I could quickly try on a few from the sale rack and be back in my car in an hour. But today the selection was disappointing. I chose several dresses from the main racks which would later be disqualified in the fitting room. (Two would be age appropriate for me at my grandchild’s wedding in 2050. Two others exposed cleavage I would have been more comfortable exposing in 1988.) From there I went to the clearance rack to find "season appropriate" dresses and was having some success. Wading past the velvet, bugle beads and plenty of frumpy attire, I spotted a long black ruched taffeta sheath, with cap sleeves and a simple ruffled v-neck collar. It was so chic. And it was my size! This was the one!
Next I found myself in the fitting room and I was stuck. Not stuck in the dressing room itself but in the dress. I’ve done it before and you’d think I’d have some Houdini moves by now. First, the skin tight dress apparently ran a bit small; at least that is what I told myself and later the sales assistant. Second the zipper started at the small of my back and ended somewhere between my shoulder blades. For those in the dark, taffeta does not stretch or give. To make matters worse, a few strings had become stuck in the zipper somewhere around T-7 of my spinal column. Now panic was mounting. Using perspiration as a lubricant, I was somehow able to maneuver my arms out of the armholes and twist the dress an inch at a time until the zipper was on my left. This took some time and patience. But I was determined to see this dress on me. Finally the threads dislodged, I thought perhaps I could finish zipping and then twist it back. But as I started to zip a little more, I caught some skin and nearly fainted. It was time to either admit defeat or request a bigger size.
Changing into a different dress, I slinked out to the registers and managed to attract the attention of the surly sales associate who had been doing her best to ignore me so far. "Do you have this in the next size?" I chirped while holding up the object of my affection. A quick check of the computer database and a snarl in her voice revealed that a larger size was supposed to be in stock but it was not to be found in the rack inventory.... and something told me she was not up for the hunt. Grabbing my handbag from the dressing room I continued to unsuccessfully scour the racks in a matronly frock and bare aching feet; quite a sight for the security cameras and I'm praying it does not turn up on YouTube. Two hours later my new dilemma was choosing between two other dresses that I liked but did not adore, and finding sassy footwear, which does not imply practical footwear. So I surrendered, bought them both and set off to the shoe department for more aggravation.
An hour later, juggling several bags, my throbbing feet carried my weary body to the car. Of course I had walked an extra mile trying to recall exactly which entrance I entered hours earlier. I was nibbling on the $2 Godiva chocolate bar that Macy's strategically places at the registers for women with no willpower when I began to replay the dress scene in my head and rallied in my amusement. On the drive home I began to make mental notes for story ideas. Then it dawned on me; while one man finds inspiration is in doing things he loves I am quite possibly the opposite. It's the day to day absurdities of my ordinary and often chaotic life that often inspire me. I guess I was not supposed to have that dress for a reason. I think I figured out why.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Damn Day!
Suffering from writer’s block, I decided to tweak a story I wrote in 2003 after another routine day as a working mother. While this day was exceptionally stressful, with humor I'm also describing how I felt nearly every working day. Guys should know this contains girl talk, mentions feminine products and may not portray your gender in a particularly kind way. Feel free to eavesdrop but you have been warned!
This is dedicated to all mothers everywhere, because all mothers work!
_______________________________________________
The day began early and would now be extra frustrating because I had just realized that I was low on tampons. This meant I was A) very crabby and B) dreading a trip to the store because my day was packed. You can already feel the tension, can’t you? I was up earlier than usual because the dog had an appointment to be neutered. Dick and I had exchanged a few words so in my PMS fog I was mentally redecorating the master bedroom in a feminine scheme just in case I were to find myself single. I went to the den to check my business e-mail, only to have the dog follow me and promptly chew through the power cord on my corporate issued laptop! Sparks flew, Cooper yelped and the icon for the charger now indicated that the laptop was not charging! Damn dog! Leaving Dick in charge of the morning school routine, I grabbed the dog and the marathon began.
I deposited Cooper at the vet clinic and continued on to work. I needed to finish a proposal which had to be mailed that afternoon to meet a deadline. I now had a power cord to buy as well as tampons, and experience told me I was not going to find them in the same store. I needed another errand like I needed a second husband, two more children and another dog. I had planned to stop at a drug store before work but an extraordinarily long commute in Pittsburgh’s morning rush hour had eaten up my window of opportunity. I got to the office by 8:30 and buried myself in my work. Damn traffic!
I had skipped lunch since I was stressed over my part of the proposal and needed to leave early, so it had been a long day with still no end in sight. Low blood sugar and PMS would be a deadly combination for anyone who got in my way. My head was pounding as I left the office at 4:00, popping Ibuprofen on an empty stomach. Damn PMS! I still had to buy a power cord, pick up the dog, make dinner, take Jordan to meet Dick at the dentist for their back to back appointments, attend a meeting at Jordan’s school and buy tampons! My first stop was at Radio Shack. I dropped $120 on the cord. Damn Radio Shack! Leaving the store, a frantic call from my office alerted me that the proposal had to be changed because the broker had given us an incorrect spelling of the prospect’s name...the proposal I had skipped lunch to finish so it could ship that afternoon to meet a bid deadline. I now had to call the broker to get an executive order to stop the shipment and spent the next 30 minutes in the car on the phone figuring out these details while navigating traffic. Damn brokers! No time to stop at the drug store!
Nearly catatonic, I arrived home to find my daughter, Jordan inconsolable because her best friend had not sent her a birthday party invitation. Certain that this was a mistake, I called the friend's mother to get the story straight only to find that a disagreement had apparently soured the friendship and this was indeed true! Feeling the pain of Jordan's broken heart, I mentally scorned this mother and daughter duo. Damn girl drama! With a growling tummy, tearful child, a dog waiting at the vet and no dinner ideas, I was also down to one tampon. I called my neighbor, but she only had one to spare. “I’ll take it” I said sending Jordan to her house to retrieve it on our way out the door!
Next stop was the vet where Cooper had racked up another $120, but this time it included painkillers! While paying the bill, Zach called asking to spend the night at a friend's house to finish a project. This required me to pack and drop off an overnight bag. I had just picked up two more tasks. Damn school project! Now it was time to meet Dick at the dentist where he was getting a root canal and Jordan would get a tooth filled. We arrived promptly at 6:30. I made brief chit chat with the receptionist who collected Jordan and then rushed off to the 7:00 meeting at school....still no dinner, no tampons and I had noticed earlier that Jordan had one tiny line of homework which would loom over us until bedtime. Damn homework!
Arriving back home after a breezy meeting, with Taco Bell in hand I found that Cooper, sick from the anesthesia had developed a case of the runs in the kitchen. Jordan was responding like a typical 11 year old, complete with gagging noises. Dick was cranky from his root canal and impatient with the cleaning chore. Nobody could eat because of dental pain, Novocaine and lingering thoughts of dog poop. Double damn dog! I packed a bag for Zach and was just about to leave, only to be interrupted by my 16 year old senile cat, Woody who had just christened the brand new carpet. This required immediate action! Armed with enzyme cleaner and a wet vac, I began cleaning, taking several phone calls in between. One call was my impatient son wanting to know when he might receive his bag. It was now after 9:00. Damn cat!
At 9:15, I was back in the car. I called to RSVP to a party along the way and then made plans with a friend, dropped off the bag for my son, got to the store just before closing, and scored TWO boxes of tampons! I finally made it home at 10:00 to crash! I was greeted by a husband with a Scotch in his hand in serious pain from the root canal begging to be mothered. I briefly considered giving him the dog's pain medication and a lecture about childbirth, but instead I found an expired bottle of Percocet from some previous surgery in the drug cabinet. He would never know. I refilled his Scotch, pulled out the heating pad for his neck, an icepack for his cheek, administered the drugs, faked empathy while I rubbed his back, watched a few minutes of Monday Night Football then excused myself for a hot shower. Damn men! I stopped along the way to peek in on Jordan who was sound asleep with Cooper on her bed. My heart softened as I tucked the covers around her and stroked both her and Cooper's heads.
11:00 and nearly 18 hours since my day began, all was finally quiet as I melted under the sheets, escaped into my book and soon into slumber. Then I heard noises upstairs and looked at the clock. It was after midnight. The dog was slowly hobbling down the steps, followed by Jordan who was gagging and complaining vociferously. Still not feeling well from the anesthesia, Cooper had vomited all over her bed and carpet! Triple damn dog! I went back to the laundry room for the wet vac and supplies, readily available from the cat's earlier episode. I checked for a pulse as I passed by Dick sound asleep on the couch, threw a blanket on him and turned off the television. Damn men! I tucked Jordan into the guest bedroom, stripped her bed and began a load of laundry! At 1:00 a.m. I was now into a new day, scrubbing another carpet while everyone else slept. Five more hours until the alarm clock would put me right back into the grind. Damn alarm clocks! Thank goodness I had plenty of tampons!
This is dedicated to all mothers everywhere, because all mothers work!
_______________________________________________
The day began early and would now be extra frustrating because I had just realized that I was low on tampons. This meant I was A) very crabby and B) dreading a trip to the store because my day was packed. You can already feel the tension, can’t you? I was up earlier than usual because the dog had an appointment to be neutered. Dick and I had exchanged a few words so in my PMS fog I was mentally redecorating the master bedroom in a feminine scheme just in case I were to find myself single. I went to the den to check my business e-mail, only to have the dog follow me and promptly chew through the power cord on my corporate issued laptop! Sparks flew, Cooper yelped and the icon for the charger now indicated that the laptop was not charging! Damn dog! Leaving Dick in charge of the morning school routine, I grabbed the dog and the marathon began.
I deposited Cooper at the vet clinic and continued on to work. I needed to finish a proposal which had to be mailed that afternoon to meet a deadline. I now had a power cord to buy as well as tampons, and experience told me I was not going to find them in the same store. I needed another errand like I needed a second husband, two more children and another dog. I had planned to stop at a drug store before work but an extraordinarily long commute in Pittsburgh’s morning rush hour had eaten up my window of opportunity. I got to the office by 8:30 and buried myself in my work. Damn traffic!
I had skipped lunch since I was stressed over my part of the proposal and needed to leave early, so it had been a long day with still no end in sight. Low blood sugar and PMS would be a deadly combination for anyone who got in my way. My head was pounding as I left the office at 4:00, popping Ibuprofen on an empty stomach. Damn PMS! I still had to buy a power cord, pick up the dog, make dinner, take Jordan to meet Dick at the dentist for their back to back appointments, attend a meeting at Jordan’s school and buy tampons! My first stop was at Radio Shack. I dropped $120 on the cord. Damn Radio Shack! Leaving the store, a frantic call from my office alerted me that the proposal had to be changed because the broker had given us an incorrect spelling of the prospect’s name...the proposal I had skipped lunch to finish so it could ship that afternoon to meet a bid deadline. I now had to call the broker to get an executive order to stop the shipment and spent the next 30 minutes in the car on the phone figuring out these details while navigating traffic. Damn brokers! No time to stop at the drug store!
Nearly catatonic, I arrived home to find my daughter, Jordan inconsolable because her best friend had not sent her a birthday party invitation. Certain that this was a mistake, I called the friend's mother to get the story straight only to find that a disagreement had apparently soured the friendship and this was indeed true! Feeling the pain of Jordan's broken heart, I mentally scorned this mother and daughter duo. Damn girl drama! With a growling tummy, tearful child, a dog waiting at the vet and no dinner ideas, I was also down to one tampon. I called my neighbor, but she only had one to spare. “I’ll take it” I said sending Jordan to her house to retrieve it on our way out the door!
Next stop was the vet where Cooper had racked up another $120, but this time it included painkillers! While paying the bill, Zach called asking to spend the night at a friend's house to finish a project. This required me to pack and drop off an overnight bag. I had just picked up two more tasks. Damn school project! Now it was time to meet Dick at the dentist where he was getting a root canal and Jordan would get a tooth filled. We arrived promptly at 6:30. I made brief chit chat with the receptionist who collected Jordan and then rushed off to the 7:00 meeting at school....still no dinner, no tampons and I had noticed earlier that Jordan had one tiny line of homework which would loom over us until bedtime. Damn homework!
Arriving back home after a breezy meeting, with Taco Bell in hand I found that Cooper, sick from the anesthesia had developed a case of the runs in the kitchen. Jordan was responding like a typical 11 year old, complete with gagging noises. Dick was cranky from his root canal and impatient with the cleaning chore. Nobody could eat because of dental pain, Novocaine and lingering thoughts of dog poop. Double damn dog! I packed a bag for Zach and was just about to leave, only to be interrupted by my 16 year old senile cat, Woody who had just christened the brand new carpet. This required immediate action! Armed with enzyme cleaner and a wet vac, I began cleaning, taking several phone calls in between. One call was my impatient son wanting to know when he might receive his bag. It was now after 9:00. Damn cat!
At 9:15, I was back in the car. I called to RSVP to a party along the way and then made plans with a friend, dropped off the bag for my son, got to the store just before closing, and scored TWO boxes of tampons! I finally made it home at 10:00 to crash! I was greeted by a husband with a Scotch in his hand in serious pain from the root canal begging to be mothered. I briefly considered giving him the dog's pain medication and a lecture about childbirth, but instead I found an expired bottle of Percocet from some previous surgery in the drug cabinet. He would never know. I refilled his Scotch, pulled out the heating pad for his neck, an icepack for his cheek, administered the drugs, faked empathy while I rubbed his back, watched a few minutes of Monday Night Football then excused myself for a hot shower. Damn men! I stopped along the way to peek in on Jordan who was sound asleep with Cooper on her bed. My heart softened as I tucked the covers around her and stroked both her and Cooper's heads.
11:00 and nearly 18 hours since my day began, all was finally quiet as I melted under the sheets, escaped into my book and soon into slumber. Then I heard noises upstairs and looked at the clock. It was after midnight. The dog was slowly hobbling down the steps, followed by Jordan who was gagging and complaining vociferously. Still not feeling well from the anesthesia, Cooper had vomited all over her bed and carpet! Triple damn dog! I went back to the laundry room for the wet vac and supplies, readily available from the cat's earlier episode. I checked for a pulse as I passed by Dick sound asleep on the couch, threw a blanket on him and turned off the television. Damn men! I tucked Jordan into the guest bedroom, stripped her bed and began a load of laundry! At 1:00 a.m. I was now into a new day, scrubbing another carpet while everyone else slept. Five more hours until the alarm clock would put me right back into the grind. Damn alarm clocks! Thank goodness I had plenty of tampons!
Friday, March 4, 2011
There Are No Coincidences
The “to do” list was full of trivial errands. It was a cold and blustery Monday. I was struggling with something that morning. Nothing new for me but a challenging day where I had been suffering a setback. Excuses had run out and it was much later than I had planned to leave the house. On my drive to the dreaded post office I began talking to myself. Actually I was venting and praying out loud. He’s heard it all before except until recently it was not very sincere and I have been known to go rogue (no Sarah Palin jokes please). I ended my rant with “you are going to have to help me out here. I need strength and I need a sign!” I was blotting a few tears as I pulled into the post office, composed myself and went about my business. It was now almost noon and the line was beginning to form behind me.
She came in the door and we gave each other a big smile of recognition, followed by a retreat. You know that feeling of avoidance when dementia takes control and your mind begins to race. “I know her, but how?” After a moment she broke the ice. “Will Zach be home after he graduates in April?” Now it hit me! Her daughter and my son are friends. We had enjoyed lunch together over Christmas break with our kids who had insisted that we were alike and needed to meet. She and I had connected instantly and our children were probably both excited and overwhelmed by how much we had in common. She and I were actually giddy in the similarities. This second meeting moved into the post office lobby after we had both finished our business. The talk got more involved about some concerns we shared. She and I had bonded earlier over similar mother/daughter relationship issues and ADD /ADHD kid things. She has walked and still tiptoes in my shoes. She has found her grace. I am getting there. We decided that this conversation needed to continue over lunch. So much for my other errands but this was much more inspiring.
Details of what we discussed over lunch are not as important as the point of my story. This was a “timely” meeting. I explained to her how I had delayed leaving the house and of my meltdown in the car. She too had been pulled off course that morning and was late getting started. She had been wanting to share something with me and it had been weighing on her mind until that fateful morning. For almost two hours we shared things that needed to be shared and again, we were in awe of how much we are alike and how similar were our stories. She was confirming my spiritual journey because we are both convinced, there are no coincidences.
Anyone who has known me for more than ten minutes knows I am an open book. I tend to say what I feel and feel what I say. Sometimes it's an asset, sometimes a liability. I have made some big mistakes in my life but I don't feel overall that I have lived in a state of hypocrisy. When I have listened to anyone's pain in the past, my words of comfort were always sincerely “you are in my thoughts”. I never said “in my prayers” because that would have been lying. I did not pray. At best I had been an apathetic Catholic who has been going through the motions. Three confessions in 44 years and yet I have ingested hundreds of communion hosts. You do the math. I am going to hell. Perhaps I am a lousy Catholic, but that does not mean I am not a good person with good intentions. Maybe I just needed to tweak my course.
I’m not a bible thumper. I’m still even a tad concerned about putting much out there in terms of my new found spirituality. But over the years as I have observed other shareholders while still not buying the stock (my broker will appreciate this metaphor), I could not help but realize they are much calmer and much more at peace with their lives and decisions. I have been second guessing and feeling little resolve. Am I ready to hear the lesson?
The signs were always there, I just didn't see them until recently. Some of you reading this know how much you have inspired me because I am sharing things with you and you know we are experiencing something very powerful together. And it's working. And others of you are seeing the changes I am experiencing and I think you appreciate them. The day I gave a devotion with a personal spin and broke down in front of 30 women I barely knew was both intimidating and gratifying because everyone had a similar story. When I finish writing my thoughts, I feel accomplished. As soon as I publish them, I worry that I have shared too much. By sharing, I have allowed you to see my human and fragile side. I hope you feel that we share some human frailties and that I have given you something worth considering and sharing. But most of all, I hope you feel that you are not alone.
She came in the door and we gave each other a big smile of recognition, followed by a retreat. You know that feeling of avoidance when dementia takes control and your mind begins to race. “I know her, but how?” After a moment she broke the ice. “Will Zach be home after he graduates in April?” Now it hit me! Her daughter and my son are friends. We had enjoyed lunch together over Christmas break with our kids who had insisted that we were alike and needed to meet. She and I had connected instantly and our children were probably both excited and overwhelmed by how much we had in common. She and I were actually giddy in the similarities. This second meeting moved into the post office lobby after we had both finished our business. The talk got more involved about some concerns we shared. She and I had bonded earlier over similar mother/daughter relationship issues and ADD /ADHD kid things. She has walked and still tiptoes in my shoes. She has found her grace. I am getting there. We decided that this conversation needed to continue over lunch. So much for my other errands but this was much more inspiring.
Details of what we discussed over lunch are not as important as the point of my story. This was a “timely” meeting. I explained to her how I had delayed leaving the house and of my meltdown in the car. She too had been pulled off course that morning and was late getting started. She had been wanting to share something with me and it had been weighing on her mind until that fateful morning. For almost two hours we shared things that needed to be shared and again, we were in awe of how much we are alike and how similar were our stories. She was confirming my spiritual journey because we are both convinced, there are no coincidences.
Anyone who has known me for more than ten minutes knows I am an open book. I tend to say what I feel and feel what I say. Sometimes it's an asset, sometimes a liability. I have made some big mistakes in my life but I don't feel overall that I have lived in a state of hypocrisy. When I have listened to anyone's pain in the past, my words of comfort were always sincerely “you are in my thoughts”. I never said “in my prayers” because that would have been lying. I did not pray. At best I had been an apathetic Catholic who has been going through the motions. Three confessions in 44 years and yet I have ingested hundreds of communion hosts. You do the math. I am going to hell. Perhaps I am a lousy Catholic, but that does not mean I am not a good person with good intentions. Maybe I just needed to tweak my course.
I’m not a bible thumper. I’m still even a tad concerned about putting much out there in terms of my new found spirituality. But over the years as I have observed other shareholders while still not buying the stock (my broker will appreciate this metaphor), I could not help but realize they are much calmer and much more at peace with their lives and decisions. I have been second guessing and feeling little resolve. Am I ready to hear the lesson?
The signs were always there, I just didn't see them until recently. Some of you reading this know how much you have inspired me because I am sharing things with you and you know we are experiencing something very powerful together. And it's working. And others of you are seeing the changes I am experiencing and I think you appreciate them. The day I gave a devotion with a personal spin and broke down in front of 30 women I barely knew was both intimidating and gratifying because everyone had a similar story. When I finish writing my thoughts, I feel accomplished. As soon as I publish them, I worry that I have shared too much. By sharing, I have allowed you to see my human and fragile side. I hope you feel that we share some human frailties and that I have given you something worth considering and sharing. But most of all, I hope you feel that you are not alone.
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