PlazaJen: The Blog

Riding the Bike with One Pedal.

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      Wut?

      January 4, 2011 /

      I was so focused after my lunch meeting, I auto-piloted right on past Aldi’s, where I wanted to pick up some olive oil. (We’re making duck confit at the NuWo household. FANCY!) So I pulled in to the ghetto Price Chopper, which is fine for quick trips. They are not an expansive store, by any stretch.

      Grabbed the oil and a couple other things and went to checkout. The cashier said something I couldn’t understand, so I looked up, smiled and said, “What?”

      She said, “You know, for those pouch things you wear around your waist.”

      My smile kinda froze. First of all, it’s a fanny pack, I’ve never worn one, and …WTF? Did I just plummet to earth into someone else’s body and we’re having a conversation about how to travel in Europe as Ugly Americans?

      I kind of half-nodded, smile frozen, my lips sticking to my teeth as the air dried them….and uttered a very non-committal “OooOohuh,” as I am rapidly hitting all the buttons on the pay station so I can sign my name and be done.

      “Good for when we take our dog hiking, you know, down by the river, we do that when it snows.”

      At this point, I’m pretty sure I’m dealing with The Girl Who Slipped Through Screening, and I’m just bobbing my head in an up-down-angle-side-to-side, lips frozen still in smile, and I’m trying to push the cart forward, grab my groceries and go, still making some sort of neutral “Ahhhhhhhh” sound.

      I still have no idea what’s going on there, but I figured I’d at least blog it. I’m not sure if she was talking about the advantages of plastic bags? They fit in a fanny pack, and certainly would be handy when walking your dog down by the river.  Girlfriend needs to buy herself some segues, along with a few more sentences. Of course, any observer might have thought I was the crazy one, what with the demented smile, ooooohing and ahhhhing, nodding and bobbing like a boxer. They might be right.

      Hello, Neighbor…

      January 3, 2011 /

      No, I’m not talking about Crazy Cat Lady, though she had her own personal  festival of lights last week, courtesy of the emergency-service vehicles lined up in front of her house. I’m just feeling very…. Mr. Rogers. Won’t you come in? I should put on a cardigan. (Actually, I really should, I’m kinda cold.)

      Starting off 2011 very differently than I started 2010. For one thing, I’m unemployed again, as my part-time employer unceremoniously gave me the boot the day after Christmas weekend. Of course, I could have been surprised, but when you advertise for a junior buyer on internal job boards at a local agency, I’m connected enough to find out within fifteen minutes. (That happened on Dec 1, ironically, my one-year anniversary there.) I was given a nice platter of prevarications.  I tried to accept them at face value, but, frankly, there had been enough lies before that point (nothing like having to keep from the client you’re only part-time and they’ve been told you’re full time) to know that it was time for something new, shiny and distracting to take my place. I got in touch with one of my co-workers, and let him know what was going on – and warned him some of the things I’d seen and heard might mean he was next. Sure enough, he came back from vacation and got axed today. I told him when he called to just keep feeling the relief, of not having to sustain the impossible anymore.

      So what does that mean for me? Well, I have some opportunities for freelancing, and I’ll certainly be pursuing them as much as I can. I’ll have unemployment for when that’s not active, and I’ll keep my health insurance current. I think what I learned from the last go-round is that when you feel like you’re losing your integrity, just by walking through a door, you may be losing a salary, but you’re starting the process of regaining so much more. I also learned that as much as I worried and fretted and stressed, it didn’t make one bit of difference. I feel a strange sense of calm, and assuredness, that is really rather surprising. I have great friends in the community, former colleagues, vendors and clients. And as my father said in the worst of times, it will all be ok. I’m glad I don’t own a business that is hemorrhaging money and worrying about if I’ll make payroll and what happens if one client leaves, will it all go under. One of these days, I’m going to write down all the sordid stories, and they will astonish you, children, they really will. The advertising biz tends to look a lot more Gordon Gecko and not so much Melrose Place.  (I remember my father asking me, “This business? Does it have any NICE people in it? It doesn’t seem like it does.” Yes, dad, plenty of nice people. Just not the most honorable, as some are merely glorified con artists.)

      I may need to take up violin lessons, though, all my appointments for fiddling when Rome burns and whatnot. Heh.

      Well, that’s all for today, kids. I’m going to enjoy my zen, while others chug the Maalox. It’s a new year, and I just have a feeling, it’s going to be one of my best.

      xo

      jen

      Donner Party, Table for Two, Please.

      December 26, 2010 /

      I am ready for a new year.  Christmas wasn’t much to shake a stick at, but then you wake up and it’s Boxing Day (if you’re in Canada), and you think, ok, we just gotta get to New Year’s Day, and the fresh new calendar page will stand before you, awaiting your move. And then you think, godDAMN it’s cold in here, and did the husband turn the furnace down this morning? And in the shadow of the hallway, you peer at the thermostat, flipping the light switch and seeing that it’s only 53 in the house and it looks like the temperature has been overridden…..to be bumped up to even higher than normal. So you throw on the big fluffy robe over the pajamas and shuffle out to the living room, thinking you hear the furnace moving air but still not sure, and comment on the abnormal chill in the air. To be agreed with, by said husband who has resorted to the space heater singing the hair off his legs.

      Yeah. Dead furnace. On the day after Christmas, on a Sunday.  Let the calling begin. We called at least 7 companies, some required a second call to even get a call back, and while the technicians did help the Wo determine it’s the Smart Valve, absolutely nobody had this particular valve rolling around in their inventory. Several told us they might have something, but it would be $130 just to show up and possibly tell us they didn’t.  Then, the real humdinger came from one company who said they could come out today, but it would be a thousand dollars. Uh, wut? But if we waited until tomorrow, it would be $600. Mind you, this part runs about $150. And I get it, it’s Sunday, and a holiday weekend, but REALLY? One Thousand Dollars?!?! That’s like, half a new furnace. With tax deductions for a new one. So we’re toughing it out until tomorrow, and James discovered why the part failed (a tiny leak from a water line valve dripped onto it), so it’s a straightforward job, and certainly not requiring a new furnace installation.  Good Lord almighty. And of course all this happens on the coldest day of the week – forecast for Thursday is 60’F – but tonight will drop to about 14’F.

      We went out for Thai brunch (they said we could stay as long as we wanted!) and then over to our friend Staci’s to watch the Chiefs triumph and to bask in her heated home.  Just spent the rest of the day running multiple space heaters and the furnace in the upstairs (office/craft room) to semi-insulate us.  Of course, I can find the electric blankets? But no cords. So my side of the bed looks like a f’n Arctic princess is about to go to sleep, piled high with comforters and blankets (plus a heating pad by my feet!) and I shouted out to the Wo, “I NEED FURS!”

      (Speaking of fur…. the dogs put out a little heat, too, and they’ll be fine. I joked we’d just wear them draped over our shoulders or like coats if it gets really bad.)

      My fingers are crossed for tomorrow to go smoothly, quickly, and WARMLY, and then like I said…. January, you can get here as soon as you please.

      Faith

      December 21, 2010 /

      As I’ve noted, December isn’t the easiest of months to sail through. Between the busy-ness of work, the pressure of holidays, the sorrows and reminders of family and loss, on its own, the month is taxing. (Oh yeah – gotta pay property taxes and estimated taxes by the end of the month, too. Fun!)  Throw in a couple other unexpected experiences, and I’ve felt of late that my faith has been shaken.

      Which is interesting. I don’t worship a conventional god, deity, in any sense of organized religion. So when my reflective mind tells me, “Our faith has been shaken,” and I know it’s referring to the trust and confidence in people and situations, sardonic self replies with, “What faith?” Of course, faith isn’t simply faith to God or god or whatever you want to call it. My faith is rooted in a set of behaviors and values, and when things run perpendicular to those holdings, I question not only myself, but the world around me. I think that in times of struggle, our faith rolls like the tides.  Betrayals of trust, seeing what was hidden before, whatever the provocation, you see the water recede from your feet, exposing the flotsam and the sand pulls away from under your feet. And as you stand there pondering all that is strewn before you, and wondering when your faith is ever going to return, it’s easy to think it might not come back. Or that it will take a long time to return, at the very least.

      But in my solitude today, I realized something. Something that I hadn’t allowed myself to see. Because I spent the first 30 years of my life viewing every problem as something that was mine, and mine alone to solve and resolve. To some extent, that’s still true. In the end, we have to live with ourselves, the choices we make, and that sometimes there is no resolution or clear path. But. I forget to see the faith others have in me.  And while they want to take away my pain (and can’t) or want to resolve my own internal struggle (again, they can’t), that support and desire to make it better remains.  It surrounds me, like the faces of my friends last night, or the arms of my husband, or the emails from people across the expanse, checking in, valuing me, saying hello.

      And when I realized the massive volume of that love and support today, I felt my own tightly-wound spool spin unfettered.  Air went deeper into my lungs. The path before me no longer strewn with pitfalls and hurdles, but just a path. One that I must walk, with my own feet, on my own – yet not alone.  Faith, restored.

      My December

      December 14, 2010 /

      My december

      While Thanksgiving was easier….. December has been harder.

      I will get through it,
      and it will be different,
      Each season will leave a different blueprint image behind,
      Like a monoprint
      On the same piece of glass
      All in shades of blue.
      Overlapping.

      Them’s the Pits….

      December 11, 2010 /

      I had a day on Friday where I rolled from one thing to the next: coffee in the a.m. with a salesperson, then the rest of the day unfolded at my feet. Off to Costco, then to Indigo Wild, one of my favorite local businesses, to get some Xmas shopping wrapped up. Their factory has a little storefront and the employees are always cheerful, dogs can be seen roaming around,  and the smells are to die for.  I fell in love with the Mazel Tov soap (a heady mix of almond and orange) but stuck to my list…except for one little “for me” treat. I was looking at their Zum Mist, which comes in 10+ scents, and had a little note that said something about “the perfect mist for rooms, lockers, cars, anyplace that needs a little freshening, even your body.” I think, “Self, that is nifty! Let us select one of these!” I sprayed about four different ones, and settled on Clove-Mint. Nice and spicy, with the uplifting mint notes. Paid for my purchases and headed off to meet friends for lunch.

      Now this part is unheard of: I’m more than an hour early. So I decide to hang out in my car, maybe do some knitting. Keep in mind, the weather was unseasonably warm, and the sun beating in on me through the car windows had me feeling a bit steamed. A smidge sweaty. Not so fresh, you might even say. I think to myself, “Hey! I just got that spray!” and I proceed to snake the spray can into a sleeve and give my armpits a refreshing little mist.

      Then I decide I should call my insurance company, to make sure that my prescription refills were sent in properly, and handle any problems before the weekend comes and offices are closed.

      Suddenly, my armpits begin to burn. As in, BURN. CALAMITY. A NEST OF FIRE ANTS UNDER EACH ARM.  EN FUEGO. CUIDADO. And I’m shouting my choices at the automatic operator, writhing about in my seat, trying to reach behind me to see if I can grapple successfully for some handi-wipes I keep in the car, apparently for emergencies like this one. No luck. So I continue with my phone call, while keeping my arms in the air, trying to prevent skin from touching skin, as that seems to exacerbate the problem. Every so often I do have to clutch them in pain, while the service representative keeps putting me on hold to check things. I think to myself, ok, essential oils, probably best not sprayed directly on skin, and especially skin that doesn’t really see daylight and has only seen  gentle Dove products for the past decade.  It feels like the fire of a thousand suns is pouring out from each armpit, and a gingerly attempt to touch the skin makes me imagine a rash the size of Kentucky. I revert to arms-in-the-air. This phone call with the insurance dude takes 23 minutes. By this point, I am ready to run into traffic and make the pain stop, but it also begins to subside, albeit at a much slower rate than its onset.

      By the time everything is wrapped up, and I decide I can go into the restaurant and wait without tying up a table for an obnoxious amount of time, the pain is nearly gone. I was prepared to go to the washroom and have a mini-shower right there in the sink, if it came to that.

      BUT.

      My pal Teri did point out that at least it was just my armpits. That not-so-fresh-feeling-let’s-try-this-OMG could have been a helluva lot worse.

      ATB: All Things British

      December 8, 2010 /

      It’s no secret. I love you Brits and your television shows. It probably started with Helen Mirren and the fantastic Prime Suspect series. Because combining crime procedural with British storytelling and accents? OMG, I just wet my pants.

      Unfortunately, the Wo does not share this devotional level of interest. Here’s a little snippet of last night’s conversation:

      Me: “We have a Netflix movie.”

      Him: “What is it?”
      Me: “Hmmm, I don’t know. Let me check. ‘Harry Brown’.”

      Him, now looking at me with a head tilt, with suspicion in his voice: “Sounds British.”

      Me: “No, I don’t know, maybe, um…..”
      Him, reading little envelope sleeve: “MICHAEL CAINE? Uh, yeah. Gritty vigilante thriller SET IN ENGLAND? Some dude named IAN? Anyone named IAN and it’s British.”

      Me, (as if this is the first time we’ve ever discussed this): “So…… you don’t want to watch it?”

      We started watching 30 Rock, Season 4 on Netflix streaming, instead. Excellent compromise.

      And in the meantime, I’ve gotten my friend Tim hooked on MI:5 “Spooks”, which is STILL running across the pond in its 9th season, and I’m on Season 4. (Season 3 nearly killed me. KILLED ME. Gah. I shan’t say another word, but I am turning to the right with my stoic face.)

      Oh, and Netflix, you bitch, you better get Season 5 up and streaming because the discs say “Very Long Wait” and I’ll want to beat you with a cricket bat if I have to go that route. And I KNOW I’ll be watching ’em by myself.

      Good Times

      December 6, 2010 /

      Last night, in my dreams, I was teaching a knitting class. In a different city, in a huge -crazy huge- auditorium. And famous knitters were there, and it was all rather chaotic. I was feeling stressed, worrying about everyone keeping up, trying to keep the room in control.

      But I didn’t need to worry. Because then a stream of colored water came rushing in behind me, eddying and flowing towards the drop off beyond the podium, and as I looked at it more closely, I saw that it was actually blood. And I ran towards the back of the building, to discover it was raining blood. Torrential downpour. A veritable Stephen King Epic World Awash In Blood.

      Get to! Analyze THAT. I’m sure it’s just that Christmas spirit, misdirected!

      Short Note

      November 28, 2010 /

      sometimes

      I lie in bed

      before going to sleep

      turn my face to the pillow

      slide

      and stretch my legs

      all

      the

      way

      down

      to the end of the bed

      curl my toes over the edge

      delighting

      in the delusion

      I

      am

      tall.

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