It Happens to the Best of Us

I have this friend.  She is younger than me - but again, that isn't so hard to be these days.  Still, she is of a certain age.  She's not a "cougar", but she looks fabulous and she looks young enough to be her daughter's sister rather than her mother.  She takes great care of herself, has good genes, and is just beautiful.  Period.

But today...

Today I saw her at the market - sans makeup and hair and I have to tell you.  She totally looked her age.  

I have never considered myself a petty person, but the sight of her at the check out warmed my heart.  I'm in excellent company.

Stormy Weather

Hmmmm.  Life is funny.  Or not.

So much of what I would typically put down on paper as been obscured of late because of work.  I think all of us have this idea about how our "life plan" is going to work out.  For people my age, we've been driving toward the end zone, navigating the bumps and pitfalls but hopefully, keeping within the width of the road.  However, the epic fail of the economy in 2008 and 2009 threw so many of our plans to the wind that we have had to claw our way back to the road, sweep up the debris, and try to get the car started again.  Even if it only has three wheels left.

I was fortunate.  The crash cost us my well paying job and our savings but in the end, we were blessed (genuinely) with what was happening in Bob's career at the time.

In total, between a job with an ill-fated magazine, I spent two years unemployed before landing at my current position.  And I thought to myself, this is it.  I will be here until retirement.  And my current position, while paying far less than anything I have made in a long while, suits me fine.  The operative word, apparently, being me.

The industry I am currently in is in crisis.  Government funding that sustains it is severely cut and so our little company is evolving.  But it does not have the luxury of a normal evolutionary process - it must take place a warp speed.  I liken it to having to turn an ocean liner 180 degrees on a dime.  And so, everything, and everyone is under the glass.  And this scrutiny adds additional weight to an already stressful situation.  Still, I am grateful for work, and I like the product that I sell.  It is important and it adds value to the industry.

Recently however, I was given, completely out of the blue and with no warning whatsoever, a written warning.  It was the first time I had ever experienced such a thing in my life.  I have sat on the other side of the desk before.  I know the seriousness of such a thing, now in my employee file.  The charges confused me.  They were three one-time incidences that were, at least in my mind, minor and forgettable - certainly not notable.  But here they were - in writing - and I was devastated.  Apart from the blot on my record and the feeling that I am being squeezed out, my feelings were hurt.  Really hurt. I couldn't help but feel "why are they doing this to me?"

So here is what I have learned.  The workplace can be a war zone.  There is no room for feelings on the job.  

In all of this employment turmoil since being laid off from Disney four years ago, I am finally beginning to really understand something about being employed that I believe everyone needs to learn in order to survive unscathed.  We spend so much of our lives in our work that we often define ourselves by what we do.  The is our first mistake,  The second mistake we make - and a much graver one than the first - is believing in what our employers think of us.  Whether wildly successful or just clinging on, we are not who they think we are and we are certainly not who they say we are.  That is not to say that proactive reaction to what they say is not necessary.  It is.  If we want to keep our jobs, we must address what our bosses tell us to address - even if we don't understand or agree.  But to keep grounded during such a time we have to hang on to what is actually true - that being that who we really, truly are can be found in God.  Alone.  And with that unwavering knowledge fueling us we can stay on course, regardless of the storm.

So it appears dark clouds are looming.  I have no idea what is next.  I am working my tail off to do a superlative job, but who knows what decisions have already been made, and for what reasons - regardless of my efforts.  It feels weird.  It is weird.  But as I heard in church this past week, we must be content with much or with little.  God is enough, whatever comes.  That is a promise.

He has not let me down.  Not once.

Terms of Endearment

I am finally getting back to normal after having been stricken with the flu from hell.  I will never go without a flu shot again.  But coming out of the fog for the first time in a week means facing the following:  an inch of dust everywhere, the vacuum is desperately needed for some major work, loads of laundry await, and bathrooms need attention.

So naturally, I wish I had the flu again.

Really, it is now 8:30 p.m. and I have been contemplating "getting started" for the past 12 hours.  But at 6:00 p.m., as I was watching the last minutes of natural light - enough to be able to still call it "day", I stumbled upon a great idea:  Netflix.  What movie had I not seen in a long time that Grace would really like?  Browse, browse, browse and finally: Terms of Endearment.

Oh my gosh, what a perfect movie.  So wonderfully written, directed and acted with such an amazing cast, you absolutely cannot watch that movie and clean at the same time.   So we put it on and I was not able to do anything for two and a half hours.  Sorry, but what can you do?

Grace had never seen it and she was immediately caught up with Deborah Wingers wonderful character.  Personally, I loved Shirley McLaine - I appreciated her performance in a way I couldn't have possibly appreciated it the last time I saw it - about 20 years ago.  And of course, there is Jack.

When Jack Nicholson came on screen my jaw dropped to the floor and I thought "how old is this movie?"  Well guess what?  It is 30 years old!  This was a fact unfathomable to me.  But I had to concede it when I realized that when I first saw this move - in 1983 - I thought Jack was old and out of shape.  I did not swoon.  He was a "bad boy" who never grew up.  Unattractive.  This time however, I thought how young and gorgeous and sexy Jack was -  a real "bad boy".  Extremely attractive.

But I digress.

I sat watching the movie but with one eye on Grace.  I loved seeing her buy in and come to love the characters - knowing full well what was coming.  She was silenced when Shirley McClaine was banging on the nurse's station demanding her daughter get her shot, her eyes welled with tears when Deborah Winger said good-bye to her boys (I can't breathe watching that scene!), and when she finally reachers toward her mother, smiles wistfully, and dies, from next to me I hear audible, wracking, sobs.  But not from Grace.  These from Bob.

I had forgotten.  At a chick flick Bob is certain to be the biggest girl in the room.  He has cried like this at uncountable movies - "Heart and Souls", "Forrest Gump", "The Notebook".  And both Grace and I looked at him with empathy.  He needed a kleenex.  He needed a hug.  It took him very little time to recover and he always laughs at himself afterward but his heart is extremely tender toward such sentimental, heart-tugging movies.  And while many people might think it strange or awkward to be in the presence of a man who cannot control the flood of emotions within, I see his tenderness in very different terms.  In fact, you might call it terms of endearment .

(You knew that was coming...)

Nurse Mom

I am never really sick.  But today I am.

Yesterday morning I woke up a little stuffed up.  By the time I got to work, I had a tickle in my throat. It turned into a cough that, over the next several hours, gained momentum.  By 6:00 p.m. I was in bed. Then I experienced the fever and the chills, the horrible muscle aches - that actually woke me several times during the night.

So how am I coping?  Actually, extremely well.  In fact, I'm enjoying it  little bit.

Now I know this sounds crazy but it is a real "treat" to be able to stay in bed all day and nurse my fatigue; know there is laundry and dusting, and vacuuming to do and have no choice but to ignore it.  Without guilt.

Prince Bob stepped up and cleaned the carpets, made me a berry smoothie for breakfast and home made vegetable soup for lunch.

I had to bow out of obligations this weekend but I am bundled in a warm and comfortable bed and frankly, I am so loving that.  Even though I am hacking up a lung and fighting the chills.  And wondering my my muscles hurt so badly.

It is times such as these when I really miss my mother.  She was a wonderful nurse.  Her soft hands would be all over my face and neck checking for temperature.  She would have brushed my hair.  But then something kind of weird and wonderful happened.  As I was flipping through the channels, I saw that "The Lawrence Welk Show" was on PBS.  I would never watch it for entertainment value but seeing it takes me back to my great grandmother's house in Sacramento as a little girl.  When ever we were there with our parents we had to watch it with Grandma Florence.  I used to make fun of all the saccharine of the show - even as a 9-year-old.  But tuning in tonight took me straight back there, to Grandma's wonderful house on "Q" Street, with my mother.  Sitting on the foam green nubby couch.

And I can feel her with me.

Wunerful, wunerful.

The Problem with Secrets

Yesterday, as I was catching up on work I had brought home, Bob and I watched a documentary on Netflix about "The Secret".

You all remember "The Secret", right?  It was a wildly successful book and philosophy that everyone was talking about a few years back.  It basically says that we live under the laws of attraction.  That consciously or not, we draw to us what we get - whether positive or negative, and that by focusing on what we want, believing that we will get it, and living as if we already have it, the universe will reorganize itself to give us what we want.  That Mercedes you see yourself in?  Its yours.  That 500K job you long for?  In the bag.  The house in Malibu?  Start packing.

I don't wish to poke fun of people who believe in this.  In fact, it is seductive.  If I can think it, I can have it.  Who wouldn't love that?  But here's a secret about "the secret".  There may be some power there but  be careful what you wish for.  And how.

First of all, there is no secret about living with positive thinking.   In fact it is scriptural.  "A joyful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones", Prov 17:22.  Further, "Finally brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things" Phil 4:8.  Of course our attitude makes all the difference in how our lives are going to go.  And yes, if you live with negative thoughts, you are likely to be a negative person and you are not going to enjoy your life.  On the flip side, if you are positive,  you focus on what is good and when things go wrong you will work to take the negative and use it for positive.  That is scriptural as well. "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose" Rom 8:28.

The Secret also speaks a great deal about gratitude.  Again, no secret.   "Be joyful always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances" Thes 5:16-18.

There is a lot said about "believing" you will get what you want in the philosophy of "The Secret" as well.  Believing is not a new concept.  "Ask, and it will be given you; seek, and you shall find; knock, and it will be opened to you.  For everyone who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks it will be opened.  For what man is there among you who, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will he give him a serpent?  If you then, being evil(*), know how to give good things to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask Him!" Mat 7:7-11 (*) evil , meaning with an imperfect nature.

So all of this has been around forever.  But here is where it falls apart for me.  In this entire documentary, I heard nothing about contentedness, nor did I hear anything about anything other than personal desire and agenda.

There is nothing wrong with wealth.  Certainly life can go smoother without financial concerns.  And I'd be lying if I said I didn't love luxury.  I wish I had more.  Who doesn't love the idea of sailing on a beautiful yacht or traveling the world first class, or just a kitchen renovation?  But if the means are to those ends specifically, there is no real happiness.  And that, is probably the real the secret.  Contentedness must come into play for there to be joy and fulfillment.  "Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content.  I know how to be brought low and I know how to abound.  In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need.  I can do all things through Him who strengthens me"  Phil 4:11-13.

And if we ask for and believe that the universe will give us all that we want, we have to consider that the "universe" is everything.  Space, galaxies, planets, suns, moons, black holes, earth, all living creatures - including us - we are all part of the universe.  If we believe that the universe has the intelligence to coordinate everything in its endless capacity and bend the "collective will" - including mine - to grant you what you want, someone, at some point is going to be disappointed.  Because I am part of the universe and what I want and what you want may collide.  But if we believe that God is not the universe but instead the creator of the universe, we can see how He alone can work things out for His own purposes, and that lining up with what He wants will bring you complete fulfillment.  Because, after all, you are His idea.  And the true desires of your heart were planted there by Him.

The "secret", although it really isn't a secret, is a reliance on God, an attitude that is positive and affirming, grateful and contented, prayerful and expectant, seeking of purpose and understanding for God's design, direction, and fulfillment.  Because in the end, our own desires fall short of fulfilling us.  "You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand there are pleasures forevermore" Psalm 16: 11.  And truth be told, that while you may find yourself blessed with riches, God is not terribly interested in those.  He made them, he understands the benefit of them, but they are not eternal things.

"For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."  If this is indeed from the creator of the universe, can it possibly be any better that that?

Of course, we are free to visualize personal prosperity, material wealth, large houses, boats, cars, money - all of the things we long for that we feel will make us complete and happy.  I remember so many times in my life, praying fervently for stuff - the right apartment, the new car, that some guy would like me, for a bigger paycheck, on and on -  and found that the contentedness in having them was very short lived.  There was nothing wrong with wanting those things.  There was nothing wrong with getting those things,  There was nothing wrong with praying for those things.  There was something wrong with thinking those things would fulfill me.  There was something wrong being so focused on the stuff I wanted to make me happy in my life that I had no interest in lining up with what God wanted for me.

"For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?"  Mat 16:26.

Milwaukee, Doan'cha Know

Looking at a three day weekend with at least a day's worth of work to take home.  No matter.  I am still so grateful to be employed - even if this is the most stressful sales job I have ever had.

My company is in change mode.  We are introducing a lot of new product which should go far in changing the trajectory of our business, but transition is always tough.  Like trying to turn a ship on a dime.  Still, I get to travel a bit.  To far off and unknown places.

Like Wisconsin.  Preparing for the trip was easy.  I have packing for business down to a science now.  It was depressing to see how beat up my beautiful, expensive, not-yet-a-year-old suitcase is.  It does not pay to buy attractive luggage.  By the time I got to Wisconsin, the airline had further damaged my bag by breaking the collapsible handle - offering evidence to support my suspicion that airlines are cutting corners by employing monkeys to handle the luggage.  By the way, airlines won't guarantee wheels or handles.

Anyway, I was in Wisconsin for a literacy conference - taking place at the same time that major snow storm was blowing through on its way to Boston.  Having been warned that I couldn't possibly imagine the cold I was about to endure, I brought my black wool car coat, my heavy-duty London Fog trench coat to wear over it, and even borrowed a good ski-coat from a friend.  As it turns out, the hotel I stayed at had a skywalk to the convention center so the only time I was outside was the 10 seconds from airport terminal to cab to hotel to cab to airport terminal.  The only time I needed my coat was to roll it up and use it on the plane as a pillow.  True, I missed much of what Milwaukee has to offer - which I'm certain is measurable - but then again, you know, so what?  I was able to see the snow from the skywalk and from my hotel room - and it was glorious, but I also saw scores of people, heavily bundled with oversized shovels doing what looked like the very hard work of clearing the sidewalks.

Better them than me (she said selfishly).

I did not have to walk outside to get a bit of Milwaukee native flavor though.  I was there representing my company, one of many vendors exhibiting to educators attending.  Exhibiting from one of the universities, right across the aisle was a very likeable woman named Pat.  Pronounced "Pey-at".  It is spoken in nearly two syllables.  Pat told me she has "lived mii whohle life in Wiskahnsin" (lived my whole life in Wisconsin).  She had a delightful Wisconsin accent and was very friendly.

"Whey're ya frahm?" she asks me.

"Thousand Oaks", I tell her.

"Ooh.  Wheyre's that?"

"Between Los Angeles and Santa Barbara - just over the Santa Monica mountains from Malibu", I explain.

Immediately she crosses over the aisle laughing.  "Ooh mii gaad", she says.  "Heh-av yah ever seen the Caalaforneeons" on Saatarday Niight Liive?  They aare sooooooooooo funnee."  And then, in her heavy Wisconsin accent, she attempted a California surfer accent and I won't even try to spell it phonetically.  Hilarious.  

And don't think that just because I never left the confines of the hotel/conference center I didn't experience some real Milwaukee pride.  The hotel (Hilton) offered the the kind of experience that many travelers are looking for - comfortable rooms with enough old-world luxury to make you feel you were somewhere special.  But lest you forget where you were, among several places to dine in the hotel, they offered "The Miller Time Pub".  I had forgotten it was brewed in Milwaukee.

But the most noteworthy experience of my trip was walking through the austere hallways of the Hotel, with its lush red and gold carpeting and beautiful crystal chandeliers to one end of the sky walk, across to the other side where an escalator ran, taking you to the convention center.  Along the wall of the escalator, as you descended, were large, framed black and white photographs (circa 1970s) of Milwaukeeans - large and small, young and old - reveling in the Polka experience.  And because, to the foreigner, these images alone might appear ridiculous - even eliciting a condescending chuckle at the sight of joy with beer and accordions, those responsible for the choice of decor installed a sign at the top of the stairs which read "Push to Play Polka".

So, of course, I did.

And for the short ride down, looking at the photos and hearing the rousing sounds of a professional polka band, I let me feet go: one, two, three - and, one, two, three - and..." on my step - all the way down.  And it felt just great.

Indeed, I think I would like to visit Milwaukee again.

In the Spring.

Oh-kee Doh-kee, then. 

Christopher's Visceral Art

By my cousin, Christopher Roberts

I've never been really drawn to abstracts.  My taste has always tended more toward the soft focus, soothing images of impressionism.  Monet, Manet, Seurat.

Things are changing - mostly because of my cousin, Christopher Roberts.

Chris is my cousin Lynn's oldest son.  I used to baby sit him.  He was a blonde and beautiful child.  Then I moved.  Then they moved.  And I saw him very infrequently.  He was simply my second cousin, Lynn's kid (although he calls me "Aunt").  I loved him but I did not know him to be extraordinary.

Chris had trouble in school.  Not that he wasn't smart.  I am told he tests "brilliant", intelligence wise.  But Chris was gay and he was the first gay person in our family to "come out" (there have been more since).  Evidently the bullying in school was brutal.   Chris was a little misdirected early in young adulthood.  Trouble with substance abuse led to some bad decisions and some of his experiences have been extremely painful.  But ultimately, all of that led him to make a big change and he packed up and left Tucson to move to Portland where he went to school and I don't really know what else.  He started over.  Then, about a year ago, he took up residence in an artists' loft with other artists and they paint and create all day long.  And I thought: "Really, Chris?"

You see, Chris' grandmother was my Aunt Barbara.  She really was an artist and I secretly thought: "Just because Barbara was an artist doesn't mean..."  Nothing that I knew of Chris or his life ever gave me a reason to think he was an artist.  

I am an idiot.

When Chris first started posting his paintings, they reflected deeply personal feelings and experiences he had had in his life.  I appreciated them, but I couldn't feel them myself.  I didn't understand it.  But as his paintings continued to evolve, so did my interest.  His work is absolutely extraordinary.  He is brilliant - and not just intelligence wise.  

I am now a true fan.  And very strangely - it is his abstracts that I am absolutely in love with.  I am saving money to commission hopefully more than one piece from him.  Happily I get a "family discount" - but his work is truly amazing and worth a great deal more than he charges.  I look at the painting above and want to live there.  I think it is just spectacular.  (If you click on the picture above, you will see the entire painting.)

Chris did not ask me to write this.  He doesn't know that I am.  But if you are into art collecting, I would bet on him and buy before you can't.  

You can find him on Facebook by searching "Christopher's Visceral Art".