Interpretations of humanity and other stuff

Aftermath of Catastrophe

2011-06-02T15:41:00.003-05:00

There has been one significant "constant" in my family; a place that has grounded us, given us a heritage and identity, that's always been "there" and the same. Generations of my family have been born, lived, died, moved away, returned and the land is always there. My great-great-grandparents traveled across a wilderness in the mid-1850s to claim this homestead in the Loess Hills outside of Logan, Iowa, a small town just barely in existence.

There was a log cabin on the property that had been inhabited temporarily by Mormans on their way to Utah in the 1840s (some spent a devastating winter in Florence, Nebraska). (My mom said it was torn down in about the 1950s, after serving as a shed, not recognized for historical significance at that time). The area was called "Six Mile Grove" - there is a creek by that name that borders our farm. The old farm house that stands under an ancient oak tree, at the far edge of a field, on top of a hill with a view to the west. The guess is that it was built approximately 1860, but there are no surviving records, probably due to a courthouse fire long ago. It was most likely built using trees from the property, cut at the mill in town or by hand, with bricks made from local clay and limestone foundation stones from the local quarry. It's not a handsome house, but it has stood for over 160 years.

My Mom owns what is left of the original homestead; the family came across hard times after a failed investment (a grocery store) involving a shady lawyer. Family friends held the mortgage and offered it to her, she only in her mid-20s at the time, to keep it from being lost to our family. My mother, despite two failed marriages, raising two children, then two grandchildren, and very limited income, managed to pay off that mortgage and keep that farm debt-free for over 50 years. It is her wish that this remain in our family; "Century" farms, those that have been in one family for over 100 years, are somewhat uncommon. Unfortunately, the old house had already fallen into a state of disrepair, Mom just couldn't afford to fix it.

Why this background information? I suppose it is my way of establishing the impact of the events on March 22, 2011. Why this catastrophe has had a more profound effect than, perhaps, a place with less personal history.

Tuesday, March 11, 2011 was a lovely early spring kind of a day, but quite warm, almost 80 F. Too warm, because when a cold front moved through the area in the late afternoon, the weather changed for the worse. I'd seen a tornado watch on the internet and called Mom to make sure she knew. There are no sirens within hearing distance where she lives...eight miles outside of town. Shortly after 5 p.m., she and my niece Jamie, who'd been watching the news on TV, heard a tornado was heading in their direction. Barely 9 minutes later, and after running for shelter in the cellar near the house, the devastation began.

In minutes, our barn was knocked off its foundation and collapsed, half of the roof torn off the house, several broken windows, nearly every tree surrounding the house damaged or destroyed, except for the old oak tree which only lost a few branches. One old cedar tree, planted as part of a windbreak by my great-grandfather and my grandpa, fell on the back porch. A tree fell on my mom's beloved pop-up camper, crushing it. The tornado traveled past the house, in a southwesterly direction from what I understand, tearing and twisting, snapping and uprooting trees in its path. Huge trees, ancient several-hundred-year old oaks, walnuts, elms, cedar...dozens, maybe hundreds torn and broken across our wooded acres.

So we are left with the devastation of the wrath of a tornado. Heartbreakingly, my mother had no insurance on the property, because the insurance company dropped coverage a couple years ago due to the age and condition of the buildings (and also that Mom has a wood heating stove, which she always has, but apparently now that's become an issue of uninsurability). There's simply no money for repairs, clean-up, etc. Mom took out a loan that she can barely afford to make payments on, just to buy materials to repair the roof on the house. We've had some volunteer help, and a few small donations, but it isn't enough. Government assistance would force her to sell her home or part of the property, or place a lien in which the government would get it when she dies, which she refuses to do. This is her home and it is still a working farm, her business.

Can we, as a family, get through this? I can only hope so...my ancestors were pioneers, strong and brave to come to a wilderness to create a new life and enjoy freedom. I still feel so helpless, though, when my mother speaks of the nightmares of the storm that haunt her still, and knowing she and my niece lived through that terrible experience. There's so little I can do yet. My goal is to find some kind of assistance that will allow my mother to get back on her feet, and still keep her dignity. Considering what she has been through, it's the least she deserves.

The back of the house, sans roof

My brother John, and the remains of the barn

Mom's beloved pop-up camper...won't be going anywhere now

A view of some of the trees down in our woods

A view toward the tornado's path

Long time no see me...here

2011-02-28T19:57:00.000-06:00

I haven't posted anything at all on my blog for quite some time. So much for one of my "resolutions"...to spend more time writing on this blog. Luckily, there's no deadline and I may still find inspiration yet!

I suppose my best excuse has been my life revolving around the foot surgery I had in late November, just before Thanksgiving. Even though I've been through three previous surgeries on this foot, this one has taken "endurance"...and far more patience. I really didn't expect my recuperation to be as difficult or lengthy as it was, and dragging that cast around all winter was especially tiresome. Everything, and I mean everything, became more difficult and time-consuming. Bathing, dressing, driving, housework, negotiating stairs, walking more than a few yards...Sleep was a huge problem; I liken the experience to fastening a concrete block to my foot then trying to get comfortable in bed...not gonna happen. I spent plenty of nights on the sofa propped up with pillows, that seemed to help a bit. Pain wasn't really too much of an issue, unless I got off schedule on taking the meds. I learned very quickly: don't do that!

Clearing snow from the numerous snowstorms that occurred was frustrating. Unfortunately, no offers of help were forthcoming (I will refrain from expounding on this sore point)...so I resourcefully used the orange plastic newspaper bags to cover my cast and hauled out the shovel and snowblower and did it myself. I only fell once but didn't break anything, just pretty sore for a couple days. I suppose I need to learn to get better at asking for help, but I have found that hearing lame excuses or someone says they will and then don't, are worse than just doing it myself.

Of course, one of the hardest things to deal with these past three months (yes, I am still recuperating, but had a good doctor's report today so I'm on the downhill slide) has been my inability to dance. Much of my social life revolves around my passion for dance and I've felt the loss sorely. I've still been spending Friday nights at Jitterbugs, though, and it's been good to spend time with my friends there. Looking forward, I'm planning to get back into swing dancing (and I'd like to focus on improving my skills at Balboa) and salsa. I'm also very excited about signing up for bellydancing classes; it's something I've always wanted to do and I've heard it's good for strengthening "core" muscles.

I'm counting the days until my feet hit the dance floor again...and for spring time and warmer weather. I guess I should consider experiences like making a stronger person, but I have to admit I could use far fewer!

Misha

2010-10-08T15:08:00.001-05:00

Misha on the front porch, catching some sun and watching birds

I had to say goodbye to my long-time companion, my beloved cat Misha, last week. This beautiful black cat found me and adopted me as his one-and-only person, and rescuer, nearly 13 years ago - the night before my birthday in 1997. Unlike superstition he brought me only good luck...and the unconditional love and trust of the kind our pets give to us. I valued his more so...because wherever he'd been, he'd been badly abused.

Other pet-lovers will understand the pain and loss of losing a "member of the family." Even though he didn't make much noise, the house seems overly quiet and much too lonely. I still find myself looking for him when I come in the door (he would usually come to greet me...or try to "escape" outside even though he was an indoor kitty). At night, sometimes I imagine I still feel his weight and warmth at the foot of the bed.

I still can't bring myself to move his favorite "blankie" from one of his "nests" on top of the cedar chest in my bedroom. He so loved soft places - especially blankets. I always thought it was so funny how, if I took a blanket and wadded it into a nest, and dropped him on it...even if he was being cranky or irritable, it was an instant transformation into purring, happy, bread-kneading pussy cat. And Misha loved canteloupe, ice cream....and bacon!

My mom always says it is so hard because we usually outlive our pets, and it never gets any easier to say goodbye. This was so much harder because I had to make the decision to let him go. I could not bear to let him suffer and try to keep him here for my own benefit. But I am humbled by witnessing his last little shuddering breath.

Goodbye my faithful little friend....I know you will be waiting for me still when I cross over.

Existing on the Edge of Consciousness

2010-10-08T14:37:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I think my whole life is like that, not quite "real"...and often a struggle to create and maintain my "reality". It's like, when I listen to Celtic music, I respond as though I can almost, but not quite, understand the words. Life sometimes seems that way too, as though I feel I should know and understand how to deal with it, but I am missing some crucial information somewhere along the way. I often feel adrift, and even the few things that "ground" me, such as people I love, or my house, or my job are still ephemeral and could vaporize in an instant.

Confessions of a Shoe-A-Holic...Heart and Sole

2010-04-08T11:44:00.022-05:00

I'm not sure exactly when my passion for footwear began. Perhaps as a little girl, maybe three years old, when I was given a pair of pink cowboy boots - my mom says I wore them constantly and even tried to wear them to bed! I have a pink cowboy hat now (with a story of its own!...why don't I have boots to match? That may have to be remedied!)

I can definitively connect a solid addiction to my "Disco Queen" days in the mid- to late 80s when I would suffer wearing 3 to 4-inch heels gyrating to the heart-thumping beats of Prince, Cyndi Lauper, Kool & The Gang, Madonna and Boy George under the revolving, scintillating disco-ball lights at my favorite clubs (does anyone remember Gambit's at the Marriott, Brandywine's, Jodphur's, Electric Cowboy, the Metro...?)

And when I say "suffer"...I do mean suffer...unfortunately I'm plagued by hereditary foot problems that have resulted in three surgeries in my lifetime (including what I hope will be the last one which I had in November...my new "accessory" is a titanium toe joint). I've never let that stop me from my love of dancing, however! No pain, no gain and all that. Perhaps my passion for dancing is inherited too...one of my maternal great-grandmothers loved to polka dance well into her late 90s (a secret to her longevity, perhaps?)...and when she broke her hip and could no longer go, well, she just decided it was time to "check out", which she did, at 98 years old. I'm thinking that's how I want to go, with my dancin' shoes still on!

Shoes are a fortunate necessity for dancing, but my passion extends to just about any kind of footwear. Casual, dress, professional dance shoes, tennis shoes, boots, slippers, flip-flops (can't call them "thongs" any more since that term now applies to skimpy little pieces of string attached to tiny triangles of material that somehow are considered "undergarments"), sandals. I have literally dozens of pairs of shoes...and I actually do still have some of my "vintage" pairs from the 80s and one pair of "platforms" from high school (which could very well bring in some dinero if I auctioned them off on ebay...which I won't.) I particularly love "sparkly" shoes, as evidenced by my latest purchase:

No, they're not Dorothy's...they're mine!

High heels, while many consider them a "torture instrument" of women's fashion, do have the amazing ability to create the illusion of longer, sexy legs by shortening the calf muscles or whatever. At 5'2" I need all the help I can get since it also somehow seems to make my rear end look less endowed by lengthening my proportions.

I totally understand the need for multiple pairs of black dress shoes and how it's a must for a certain outfit to be completed with just the right pair of shoes. A pair of tennis shoes for a business suit? Oh, no...well, unless you work downtown and keep a spare pair in your desk drawer to wear while walking at lunch time. It's de riguer in downtown business districts, but a fashion faux pas anywhere else. I did learn my lesson on stiletto safety early on in my first downtown job...I was hurrying as fast as I could (in spike heels, that's not particularly speedy) and as I was passing in front of a diner with a big plate glass window in front through which I was visible, one of my pointy heels landed with bulls'-eye accuracy in a teeny tiny little hole in the sidewalk just big enough for it to get stuck in. I pitched forward out of my shoe and nearly took a nose-dive into the cement. I still remember, all these years later, the embarrassment of trying to yank my shoe out of the pavement in front of the snickering restaurant patrons.

These have a retro-cool look to them that I love...and 4-inch heels which make them a bit unsuitable for dancing, unfortunately.

Now don't get me wrong, I actually do favor comfort over style (and yes, that usually is a choice that must be made when it comes to fashion). I'm also a fan of going barefoot whenever possible. Given the hereditary nature of my foot problems, I may be facing a fashion-free future when it comes to foot wear. You know, those homely rubber-soled shoes with velcro closures? It makes me wince to think about it... And I can tell you with authority: I will never, ever, EVER wear those dorky-looking things with the coiled-spring "heels"! They surpass even Crocs for ugliness. (I will confess that Crocs are quite comfortable - I succumbed to peer pressure and purchased some hot pink ones...I wore them a couple of times, but couldn't bear the ugliness of their existence on my feet. They found their way to a local thrift store in order to adorn the tootsies of someone far less image-conscious than I.) I also think there's a reason Ugg boots are called that...they're UGG-ly. (I can make libelous comments about shoes without negative consequences, can't I?)

It's comforting to know that I am not alone in my passion for footwear. Yes, there are others who know the powerful draw of the clearance sale shoe rack in the department store...the satisfaction of finding the perfect pair for an outfit...the ahhhh feeling of finding that super-comfortable pair to schlep around in on weekends....and the total "score!" feeling when a wolf-whistle follows the sashaying promenade in sexy heels.

Envision a world without shoes? Simply sole-destroying.

Awakening

2010-03-26T15:04:00.005-05:00

I cannot even begin to express how grateful and happy I am to see and feel the arrival of springtime. Feeling something other than the bitter bite of arctic wind on my face, actually seeing my lawn after months of being buried under deep drifts of snow, no more walking through shoveled paths through knee- to waist-high piles of frozen precipitation or scraping frost off the inside of my car windows, "outside" being a place to escape to not from.

According to my friend Eric's research, we went for 107 days straight, from December 1 to March 17, with temperatures below 50F...and of those, 88 (nearly all consecutively) were below 40F. Definitely Nature's way of testing our endurance!

This past winter was a test of my patience, endurance and good humor. I have been noticing the changes in my own personality that I think are partially attributable to extended deprivation of sun and warmth. Other factors include, of course, the state of the economy and overall general stress...and I know I'm not alone in feeling the effects. I've been feeling unsettled, cranky, worried and frequently "blue."

Unfortunately, due to the nature of my employment, I get to bear the brunt of others' anger and frustrations on a daily basis. I've said it often of late, I have definitely noticed a marked increase in negative behaviors from the "public." More aggression, more anger...a certain "mean-ness" with little or no self-checking behavior. I think I can understand what "causes" people to vent like this...but although I'm often a scapegoat, at least it reminds me constantly to curb my own impulses to "take it out" on others. Unfortunately, I haven't always been successful.

But...Spring is here, I can feel it coming on...the air feels different, softer and warmer...the smells of softening earth and growing things and rain...the first bright-eyed robin was perched in the small tree in my front yard the other day and other birds nearby chirp happily. The flattened brown grass is greening and tiny shoots of my flower bulbs are poking through the dirt.

Then, this past Sunday, the first day of Spring, I saw this:

and it was time for new beginnings and casting off the numbness this past winter has inflicted. As for me, I feel as if something cold and hard inside me is loosening up and fading, an awakening. The Beatles wrote the song that now plays through my soul...

Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter

Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun

and I say it's all right

Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces

Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun

and I say it's all right

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...

Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting

Little darling, it seems like years since it's been clear

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun

and I say it's all right

It's all right

Yeah, it's gonna be all right.

An Interesting Compliment

2010-02-08T16:19:00.003-06:00

So I was descending the stairs in my pirate wench costume at the infamous Groundhog Prom this past weekend....and this black guy walking by looked up, saw me, and said "Woo! Girlfriend, you're built like a black girl!"

"Brick House", baby!

Internet Dating or Internet Hating?

2009-10-02T15:20:00.002-05:00

Over the years, I've tried internet dating sites as an alternative and, if approached carefully, a good way to meet men. I've made several lasting friendships this way, and did end up dating a few. with the exception of a couple nasty experiences, for the most part it's been a postive experience. I decided a few months ago to give it another try, as my dating life has been, well, non-existent. I have a good social life and great friends, but I do miss having "someone special" to spend time with.

This may be a situation where I "got what I paid for" but I decided to try a free dating site. I'm becoming more and more convinced that this wasn't a good idea. It's not so much the "selection" as the behavior ofthe limited number of men I've been in contact with (or not). I've only actually met one from this site and we remained friends. What I am encountering, repeatedly, is the lack of boundaries, courtesy and politeness. (Like the guy who asked me, in our *first* phone conversation, what my bra size was!) Many of these men don't seem to give a damn about making a positive impression (like not bothering to shave or "clean up" a bit before meeting me). Many come across with negative attitudes and even aggressiveness.

Over time, I've decided that simply not responding to initial correspondence from guys is preferable to writing and telling them I'm not interested. My intention is not to be rude, but I often encountered the follow-up response of "why not?" or "you're not being fair/giving me a chance" etc. I'm not obligated to provide an excuse. It's really a "given" in the internet-dating scene that no response equals "I'm not interested." I don't take offense at this. I move on.
Last week, I received a note from a guy that I chose not to respond to; I found nothing of interest in his profile and didn't find him attractive. Yesteray, I received the following message from him (unedited):

“I feel 100% sorry for the person you trap in your web. who in your mind do you think you are? are you better than everyone else? maybe in your own mind you are however when someone writes to you with nothing but repect and nothing disrespectufl and you cant even reply with a simple no thank you. you are a selfish person. oh yes you want someone in your life but only on your terms. when someone hold the door for you do you just walk in with out a thank you? Im sure you do. you are old enough to know how to treat people. you get what you give. god help the man that falls for you. you put your profile up on here and you know very well that you as a lady (I use lady very loosely) that you will get many emails, well if you cant stand the heat get out of the kitchen. you need to take what comes from putting a profile on here and be respectful. you want the attention but wont give it back. you must carry on a one way relation.( all about you) pathetic”

Wow. My first thought was "WTF? Can you say "anger management issues"???" Did I actually *deserve* this vitriolic, hateful diatribe? Because I, a complete stranger, did not write back? I think not. *No one does* This is abusive language. Period. Interestingly, in this guy's profile he calls himself "too good to be true." I'm thinking: insecure, boorish @$$hole.

I have to admit, I found this very upsetting. Not because of this particular moron, but that kind of nastiness that seems to be seeping into the dating scenario, and not just online sites. I find it disheartening and discouraging. Tolerate bad behavior or verbal/physical/mental abusiveness? Been there, done that. Quite honestly, I'd rather be alone and that in itself is a very painful thought.

My Favorite Holiday - with a Bang!

2009-07-13T22:39:00.011-05:00

Some of my favorite childhood memories involve celebrating the Fourth of July. My mom owns a small farm in the Loess Hills in Iowa, where we lived during the summer (the rest of the year we lived in Omaha). Relatives (and I have a lot of them - my mom came from a family of 11 children) would gather and spend a day or two or three, pitching tents or parking their RVs in the field in front of the old farmhouse. Vast quantities of food would appear on makeshift tables, and the multiple cousins and I would help turn the handle to make homemade vanilla ice cream.

Watermelons and seed-spitting "contests", an occasional hog roast, horseshoes, and night-time hide-and-seek. I had a tree house in the back and we spent hours playing in our "fort" or tramping around in the woods or swimming in the creek. We also had a swing in the big old oak tree. We also used to lay out in the yard and watch the stars at night, waiting for lunar eclipses or meteor showers; I usually ended up falling asleep!

But the best part of all were the fireworks! My stepfather loved them and we would make a special trip to Rockport, Missouri each year and bring home big paper bags full of them. The rules were very strict, however, no fooling around or we couldn't play with them. Light the fuse and run away! There was a scary incident once particularly dry summer when we accidently set the field on fire with bottle rockets. We beat the fire out with wet blankets; it was a good thing we were able to do so as the nearest town (and fire department) is eight miles away. My little brother and I had the best time blowing pieces of bark off the old hackberry tree in the yard with Black Cats! My favorite of all are the "parachutes". To this day, I love the smell of fireworks and the smoke drifting in the night time air.

I was happy to enjoy this year's parade in Ralston, a small BBQ, and a couple of fireworks displays with good friends. I missed the traditional Rosenblatt display, I chose not to go because of the rainy weather, but did catch the Harrah's one from the new Omaha-Council Bluffs pedestrian bridge, and the Field Club neighborhood display only a few blocks from my house, which though small, is pretty impressive.

A few other folks decided
to join us.

I caught some pretty shots from the bridge and thought I'd share them.

Lonely

2009-06-27T13:24:00.002-05:00

It's catching up to me...I've managed to be ok with my singleness for the last few years. Since my last relationship, which was actually a pretty good one and didn't leave me with bad memories or the desire to avoid men in general, it's been more a matter of too much stress and too many other issues to deal with. It left me with little time or the energy to devote to a relationship.

But now...I want that. I miss having a companion/lover/confidant. There's such a void and it's hard to work my life around that. Keeping busy is one way to fill in the gaps...but it's a lot of work and I'm not always successful. Dancing, housework, yard work, spend time with friends and family, shopping, the job. Repeat. But I'm still lonely.

Most of my close friends are in relationships and while they're great about remembering to include me in events (although that doesn't happen often), I'm still the "third wheel". Last night, I went to a great outdoor concert with some young friends and everywhere around me were couples holding hands, sitting together, strolling around. It would've been a perfect night to share with someone special. My heart ached with the lack of that in my life.

I'm trying not create a pity party for myself, but I'm finding it so incredibly difficult to meet someone. There have been men I've been interested in, but I'm either ignored, put into the "friend" category, or flirted with (which I do love to do) with no end results. Frustrating and I don't know how to change that. I'm trying not to be too "picky" but the truth is, I suppose I am. I rarely meet men who have the combination of intelligence, integrity and sense of humor (and physical attraction...yes, I'm shallow enough to admit it) that catch my interest. I told a friend that is a combination that is guaranteed to "knock my socks off...and possibly other articles of clothing!" There's nothing I love better than an interesting, witty, funny flirting session! I've been lucky enough to encounter that scenario lately, but nothing ever comes of it.

A tendency I'm trying very hard to avoid, is to wonder what my faults are, what am I doing wrong, am I too fat or not pretty enough, is it my age? I don't want to tear myself up over this, and quite honestly I do acknowledge that I have many desirable qualities that should be in my favor. I'm very social and I have many friends who seem to think highly of me. So what's the problem? I'm beginning to feel that I just don't know how the dating scene works. The traditional sequence of events doesn't seem to exist. Boy meets girl. Exchange of phone numbers. Ask on a date. Etc. What is dating anymore?

The ways people communicate now are so different too: chat, email, texting. It's eliminated a lot of the "body language" part of interaction, which is something I have always relied on to understand where someone is coming from. Sure, someone can flirt with me by chat or email...but I can't see the look in the eye, the angle of the body, that would tell me if it's real or in fun. Not knowing for sure makes it impossible for me to be sure how to act upon a situation; I'm terrified of embarressing myself by assuming wrong.

Attitudes towards relationships seem to have changed too; for example "hooking up" and "friends with benefits." The latter I have actually given serious consideration to, although I doubt my ability to remain somewhat emotionally unattached as that would seem to require. The thought of an "open" relationship leaves me feeling uncomfortable. But, would "something be better than nothing"? I just don't know.

I have let desperate loneliness lead me to some unfortunate relationship decisions in the past and I have made a lot of effort to avoid that happening again. Have I gone too far with that? Perhaps my caution in "doing it right" this time has caused the barrier.

In the end, perhaps it's simply that I haven't met "the one" or even someone who is mutually attracted and willing...and that puts me right back to the beginning.

Not What I Expected: Trip to Kanas City for the Midwest Frankie Fest

2009-06-09T12:23:00.037-05:00

I took a day of vacation this past weekend in order to travel to Kansas City, Missouri for the Midwest Frankie Fest. The event came about, I believe, as an effort to acknowledge the "Ambassador of Lindy Hop" Frankie Manning, who died in April, and provide another venue for those of us who were unable to make the trip to New York City for the Frankie95 event.

I love to travel and have been anxious to get on the road, to anywhere. Although I made the trip by myself, this was a nice opportunity for a weekend trip and some "me" time. It's a 2 1/2 to 3 1/2 hour trip, depending on construction and how fast you drive. I had plenty of time to think, listen to music, and even a phone chat with a friend (with a hands-free device, of course!) The weather on Friday was exceptional for traveling, although it became a little overcast as I neared KC. I set out a bit later than I wanted, but I took my time and made a couple of stops on the way, including the fireworks stands near Rockport, Missouri (a pyrotechnic I'm not, I like the small stuff like sparklers, parachutes and smoke bombs :) I also stopped at the Information Center on the interstate to pick up maps and brochures and stretch my legs.

I love the City Market area in K.C.; that was my first stop. I wandered around and checked out the shops, found some good bargains, then had some great Vietnamese food (spring rolls are awesome!) at a small restaurant there. I drove around downtown for a while to orient myself and then decided to head to Westport to check into my hotel. It was a very nice Holiday Inn Express. My only complaint was the 2nd floor room was rather noisy since it overlooked a bar's parking lot (and bars in K.C. stay open until 3 a.m.)

The first event of Midwest Frankie Fest (Swing for the Fund) on Friday evening was at a studio called Swing Salsa Tango, on the edge of the City Market area. I discovered that I was the only person from Omaha to show up (apart from P.J., a former Jitterbugger who has "defected" to West Coast Swing!) The venue was nice enough, although up a huge flight of stairs and there seemed little or no air conditioning. I've danced at many venues, however, and those are issues I've dealt with before.

What took me by surprise, however, was the lack of Lindy Hop/East Coast style music and dancing. Very little Big Band/Swing music was played, to my dismay, although this event was in recognition of Frankie Manning. The predominant music played by the DJ, by far, was geared towards the West Coast swing dancers. A lot of "club music" in particular. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy dancing to club music, but as far as east coast and lindy hop style dancing, it just doesn't work well if at all. Unfortunately, I do not know West Coast swing, and moreover, these "Westies" were entirely out of my league. It's great to watch, these dancers are quite talented and obviously enjoy it. I did not, however, make this trip to sit out and watch others dance. I am also somewhat spoiled, I think, by our Omaha leads, who are very good at asking for dances. I did not find that to be the case in Kansas City.

I did get to dance, although not as much as I'm used to. Most of the dancers were "Westies" and as the evening progressed, that was basically the only style of dancing being done. I was convinced into entering a Jack and Jill swing dance contest later on in the evening, but I really should know better! While I love to swing dance, I know my skills are not anywhere near "competition" level. It was a good opportunity to get to dance with some excellent leads, though!

I did meet some nice people, both local and from other states, but some who came for a "Lindy Hop" event expressed disappointment, as well, and did not show up at the other dances over the weekend. Since I dropped several hundred dollars for the gas, hotel, weekend pass, food and other expenses, I figured I'd try to make the most of it by making the most of being a "tourist."

Saturday morning, I met my young "several times removed" cousin Sarah, from the Barrett side of the family, for brunch. This was the first time I met Sarah and she is a delightful young woman. We got an outside table at "Succotash" in the City Market and I ordered what turned out to be the biggest, hub-cap-size blueberry pancake ever! It was yummy. I think it's fun to note that this place also has some of the strongest, but very good, coffee I've ever had at any restaurant. Even my mom, who is a die-hard strong black coffee addict, had to add cream, when we went there in the past! Sarah and I had a nice chat and then it was time for me to attend the dance workshops at Swing Salsa Tango, which lasted from noon until about 3:30. I was up very late (early?) and hadn't gotten much sleep so it was a bit of a struggle to make it through the lessons. Peter Strom is a great instructor and we started out with The Big Apple routine and went on to work on lindy basics, swing out moves and connection.

I really, really wanted to take a nap, But I visited a really cool architectural salvage place, and then decided to visit another cousin and her daughter at the Irish import shop they own, Sheehan's, on Westport Road, just up the street from my hotel. Sadly, Peggy, who is in her 70s,

is showing beginning signs of dementia, even though I have visited her quite a few times in the past, the last only about 1 1/2 years ago. She did not remember me at all. Her daughter Kate said Peggy is not accepting yet that she is having memory issues. It was great to see them both, though, and I just love browsing through the many rooms of wonderful stuff. I bought a small Belleek porcelain box with a Celtic design to add to my collection, and some wonderful Irish tea and "biscuits" (cookies).

For dinner, I decided on a Thai restaurant called Lulu's which I had driven past a few times on my way to and from the dance and workshops. I enjoyed some satay, Tom Yum soup (which was a little too spicy even for me) and steamed seafood dumplings! The waitress was terrific and friendly. It turns out she has family in Bellevue and I encouraged her to come up to Omaha for a visit!

Then it was time to get cleaned up for the Saturday night dance, which was held at the old Firestone building on 20th and Grand. The building appears to be under renovation and our dance venue was disappointing: a 5th floor room with a raised dance floor, not very clean and rather dusty, with little seating and absolutely no air conditioning. It had been a hot day and once people got dancing, it was almost unbearably hot in there. Some more familiar faces were there; Hilary and Sam from KC, and Brian and Josie from Omaha. At least the view was great.

The highlight of the whole event, I think, was the wonderful lindy hop routine put on by "The Swingsters"! However, I only got to dance maybe 2 or 3 times, so I decided to leave early and just head back to the hotel.

I was exhausted and slept like the dead that night! A comfy bed with cool sheets and lots of pillows helped! The hotel provided a casual breakfast buffet and then I packed up and set out for some sight-seeing. It was quite hot again and I wasn't enthusiastic about the idea of an outside dance/picnic, which was the final event of the weekend. I chose to go to see the Thomas Hart Benton (1889-1975) mansion first. He was a famous American Regionalist painter, sculptor, lecturer and writer. Joslyn Art Museum in Omaha does display one of his paintings. I was the only tourist, and the guide took me on a very informative tour of the house and studio. The home was situated in a beautiful older neighborhood with lots of big shady trees. I also discovered that the house next door was a Frank Lloyd Wright-designed home. He and Benton were acquaintances.

From there, I visited the World War I memorial, which is beautiful and thought-provoking. For some reason, of which I am not sure, the "eternal" flame at the top of the tower is no longer lit. Afterwards, I headed on to the famous 18th and Vine area, which was where the dance/picnic was held. I did stop by, but there were only a handful of people and no one dancing. I stayed for a few minutes, then went on to check out the American Jazz Museum and the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum, which are housed in a building just off of 18th and Vine. Both were really interesting. Too bad the "Blue Room" jazz club in the museum was not open, I would've loved to hear some great live blues and jazz music! That will be something to do on my next trip to K.C.

By the time I finished there, it was late afternoon. I decided I'd better head back to Omaha, since it was late afternoon. One last stop on my way out of town was for pecan waffles at Waffle House! I love Waffle House and wish they'd open some locations in the Omaha area. I made very good time coming home, with no stops and in spite of quite a bit of construction between Glenwood and Omaha. It was a good get-away weekend; despite the disappointments about the dance event.

I think that if this group wants to put on another dance event (which I would be unlikely to attend), they should use more care in how it is promoted (i.e. don't plaster a known lindy-hop icon all over the propaganda) and take more consideration in the expectations of their out-of-town guests. The key word here is "guests", we're taking the time to travel to your city for a reason, not to mention injecting money into your economy. When we're disappointed in our reception, that is carried home in our words to others. Interestingly enough, after I got home, I was told by several others that if they had known I was going, they would've given me a "heads-up" about the predilection of the West Coast Swing folks to overwhelm events with just one style of dancing: theirs.

I am good at making the best of situations, and I still came away from my weekend with some good times and enjoyable memories. I always love going to Kansas City and I'm already looking forward to next time!

Media Exposure and Expansion

2009-05-27T14:40:00.008-05:00

I've had a bit of excitement this past week in my currently rather mundane existence.

Last Thursday, something unexpected happened as a result of my current job. Dealing with the media is a common, sometimes daily part of my routine, depending on whatever the issue-du-jour happens to be. I'm on a first-name basis with several of the local news reporters. Normally I'm not to make media comments, ever. My boss made an exception to the rule that day. I'd been inundated with dozens of calls from irate constituents who balk at the idea of increased property taxes and so on. The following "human interest" bit of video fluff is my resultant 30 seconds of fame. Due to creative editing, however, I don't think I look too dorkish and taxpayers should be happy to know that they're paying me to keep busy!

http://www.action3news.com/global/video/flash/popupplayer.asp?clipId1=3786692&at1=News&vt1=v&h1=Mayor

The video title is in error (I have a Journalism degree and would consider this an embarrassing oversight on the editor's part), I feel obliged to note that I do *not* work for the Mayor's office.

Last night was the beginning of my foray into a new level of PC awareness (that's personal computer, not politically correct - perhaps a topic for another occasion); I bought a fairly new-model laptop computer from a friend, with the potential for high-speed/wireless internet connection. I sheepishly admit to being a hold-out subscriber to dial-up, probably the last one on Planet Earth, or so it seems at times! I am also looking forward to the portability, which will be nice when I'm traveling or away from home and need access. It is a bit on the heavy side, but luckily as a seasoned traveler, I've become quite good at packing light with other things. I may have to creatively embellish it a bit (sparkly stickers perhaps?), as it is a bit too "basic black".

Behold, my Dell Latitude E5400:

I think/hope my computer-nerd/geek friends (and I mean that in a respectful, loving way :) will be proud of me and help me through my transition into higher technology.

Is it just me, or is this pretty darn funny?

2009-05-04T13:58:00.002-05:00

Yes, folks, this spiffy young couple posed for prom pictures in the drive-thru lane at Taco Bell. I was just sitting there waiting to order my chalupa and lo and behold, they unknowingly include me in the mementos of their "night to remember." Since my car will be in the background, I was sorry that I hadn't washed it recently.

Makes me wonder if Council-tucky, I mean Council Bluffs, doesn't have more scenic venues...

Lines of (Non)Communication

2009-05-01T19:47:00.002-05:00

I've been thinking a lot lately about the impact of communication technology, in particular upon me, personally. It's gotten to where I sometimes feel overwhelmed by the changes in the technology itself (phones that do nearly everything but wash the dishes!), but also its effect on how I communicate, or not, with friends, acquaintances and the "world".

I've been a hold-out when it comes to text-messaging. Although "chat" is very fun and convenient, I much prefer communicating vocally if at all possible. There are nuances that simply don't come across digitally. I am a very "aural" person and I rely heavily on inflection, body language, tone, and the like. Seeing their face, hearing their voice, watching their body language - that is a very intrinsic part of how I communicate and understand. I sometimes feel that what I'm trying to say just doesn't translate well into the "real time" of chat. Have you ever gotten caught up in several different "topics" going on at the same time in chat due to overlapping input? I have often had those "oops!" moments when awkward transitions occur or what I've been trying to say comes across as embarrassing or ridiculous, or worse, offensive.

Unfortunately there's often little or no opportunity to "undo" misunderstandings or information that just didn't translate the way I wanted. "Ahhh! That's not how I meant that!" Sometimes it almost feels like learning a foreign language! I can only hope that people who know me, and those who don't know me well, are tolerant and capable of discerning that maybe that wasn't quite the way I meant certain things to be "said." On the other hand, most of the time they're probably clueless and just take away the thought and decipher however they would. I experience a great deal of angst about this, especially when I think about chat conversations in retrospect.

Then, there's the "etiquette" of chat and, I suppose, text, once I finally get around to getting the service. Which I think will be soon if I want to keep up with the social circles I move in. I still perceive it as rather rude when a friend I am spending time with, one on one, repeatedly checks their phone or sends texts during our conversations. Of course, I'm very tolerant and realize that sometimes it's necessary, such as urgent or important messages. However, casual texting is the same as holding a parallel conversation and is somewhat disruptive. I do find it funny, but somehow kind of sad, when I'm sitting with friends and everyone's texting - even to people sitting at the same table! I also find it sad that some even avoid actually talking to someone on the phone in lieu of chat or text. I suppose it is a good way to "control" the conversation and assume that is often the reason.

That being said, I'm amazed at the miraculous innovation of things I could never have imagined being possible, even a few years ago. The potential is so exciting, but overwhelming. Still, it's a changing world and I wonder what the long term aspect will be of separating the way we communicate with each other, away from face-to-face interaction, or voice interaction, to the more "impersonal" methods of chat, text and email. I'm not entirely convinced that will be a positive outcome in the interaction of humanity.

An Element of Danger

2009-03-31T21:10:00.003-05:00

One of my co-workers accidently hit a panic button while moving a table today. Of course, we hear nothing, the call goes directly to the security control room. My first inkling of something happening was when a couple of security guards show up at the office door looking, well, alarmed.

I, acting in my professional capacity, asked what I could do to help them, having no idea what the heck was going on. "You have an alarm going off in your office!" Where? I was clueless and could offer no assistance so they then proceeded to investigate. It turns out the alarm had been set off during a briefing in an attempt to set up audio-visual equipment.

Still. It gives me pause when occurrences like these happen. So far, I have had only a few somewhat-serious incidents or threats, although none life-threatening, which had to be dealt with. My job (and those of my co-workers) does have an element of danger, considering the scope of what we do, the often-inflammatory subject matter or crises that occur, and dealing with the constituents of a city of a half-million people. Panic buttons. Cameras. Security guards. But it's not fool-proof. It's the fools I worry about.

This Could Be Why I Don't Date Much

2009-03-20T12:28:00.001-05:00

This is a real email I received a few years back when I tried an online dating site, exactly as written:

I will like to talk I like you pic

Chuck

Need I say more? Once I stopped laughing hysterically, I had to print it out. I came across it when I was cleaning out my office the other day.

My Black Angel

2009-03-15T12:35:00.008-05:00

I don't believe in angels - not the biblical, guardian sort with wings and harps. Rather, I'd prefer to interpret an "angel" as a healing presence, physical or not, an indication that if there is a power bigger than ourselves, it somehow manifests itself into something tangible.

This is the story of how Misha, my cat, my little black angel, came into my life.

I'd been struggling with some stressful life events, the end of a relationship and loneliness. I'm lucky enough to have a terrific support system of friends and family, but even so, sometimes it's tough to be single and living alone.

My birthday is in late October, about a week before Halloween. That year, (just over 11 years ago), a couple days before, one of my friends stopped by my apartment to pick me up for an early celebratory dinner out. As we walked out the front lobby door to her car parked on the street, a black cat seemed to materialize out of nowhere and made a beeline straight for me. In a neighborhood, on a busy street, where household pets are seldom seen wandering - a desperate, mangy, emaciated, pathetically-crying long-haired black cat. He wrapped himself around my ankles and I reached down to pet him. All I could feel was bones covered in fur. "This cat is nearly starved to death." We had a dinner reservation to keep, I was not supposed to keep pets in my apartment, my friend wanted to leave. We left him there on there on the sidewalk in front of the building, even though he kept trying to follow me, even into her car.

I couldn't stop thinking about leaving him like that. He was starving, he could get hit by a car, it was cold. When I got home later that night, I tried looking for him, but he was gone.

The following night, I was sitting in my kitchen, talking on the phone with my aunt, who happens to be a cat-lover like me. Now, a bit of background information here: my apartment at the time was a third-floor walk-up in a 100-year-old building with an enormous wood porch on the back that went down to basement level. Altogether there were more than twenty apartments. My kitchen's back door opened to that porch.

The conversation came around and I found myself telling my aunt about the cat, and how bad I felt for leaving him. As I was telling her about him, I heard "meowing" at my back door. "There's a cat at my door!" Unusual, as I was in a third-floor apartment. I opened the door, and there he was...he walked in and made himself at home. Sniffed around, tail up, and hopped up to curl up on my bed, as if he belonged there.

Apparently, I had little choice in the matter, he had chosen me to be his person. And that was that. I'm also his only person. It quickly became apparent this cat had been badly abused. Physically he was in appalling condition. His paws were abraded and bloody, there was no fur left on his belly, he was fur-covered bones. He would not have lived much longer.

Much worse and much sadder was his reaction to humans. He was, and is, ok with me, for the most part. Even I had to earn his trust. It took him over a year before he would even sit on my lap. At first, however, he was absolutely panic-striken at the sight of an older woman. He would go into what I call "scary Halloween cat" mode, hissing, back up, growling. He is not a mean cat, just frightened. There's been improvement with time, but strangers still unsettle him. He usually disappears upstairs in my house and goes to his "nest" there, or under the bed.

I named him "Misha" after Mikhail Barishnikov (whose nickname it is). When healthy, he is a good-sized, elegant, long-haired black cat with beautiful green eyes and I had discovered that he loved to run and leap in great, graceful bounds when playing around! Inspiration for his name came from watching a ballet program on TV.

About a year after he came into my life, I was critically injured in a traumatic car accident. I was incapacitated, extremely ill and spent months recuperating at home. Misha practically glued himself to my side, curled up next to me, or on the back of the sofa, always where he could see me. He still sleeps next to me, purring quietly. When I'm home, he's nearly always in the same room. I get the feeling that he's "guarding" me and find it somewhat comforting.

We've had some personality and behavior issues to work through over the years, Misha and I. In many ways, I relate to him on a personal level, dealing with the outfall of abuse. Injured hearts and spirits do not heal completely; the scars can last a lifetime. We can be given a reprieve, surrounded by love and kindness and stability. Pets can help that healing process. He's given me the responsibility of making sure he will never experience abuse or neglect again; in return, I am the recipient of the special unconditional "love" and comfort that Misha brings to me.

The Worst Valentine Gift

2009-02-16T00:34:00.003-06:00

I'd dated Mike for several years, so this wasn't an instance of not being familiar with my preferences. Honestly, I am really quite easy to please and appreciate gifts, especially those given with thought behind them. I am so sentimental. That, much more than cost, is what touches my heart the most. Hndmade gifts or cards, anything as long as it's given with honest, loving consideration. However, sometimes there can just a little too much good intention.

I guess I have to give Mike some credit, there was definitely some thought behind the gifts he gave me for what ended up being our last Valentine's Day together (that wasn't the catalyst, we just grew apart). He was a good guy, and really touched me with some sweet gestures in the time we spent together. Like after I mentioned once that I would get my ears pierced if I ever got a pair of diamond earrings, he gave them to me for my 35th birthday. I had to overcome my extreme dislike of needles; it was a traumatic event to get the piercings, but I still think of how thoughtful that was every time I wear them.

Unfortunately, I'd put on a bit of weight due to aging beyond 30 and some medication I was taking at the time. Maybe I should have seen it coming when he gave me a "low fat" cookbook for Christmas.

Here's some advice to the lovelorn, however. A romantic Valentine's gift is not a too-small Lycra workout outfit and a "Lite" Milky Way bar. (I don't believe they still make those. Good.) It brought tears to my eyes, but they were not happy ones. Ouch. Thanks, boyfriend, for the not-so-subtle hint to lose weight.

I'm sure there's a moral to this story, and I can certainly understand the angst involved in picking out the "perfect" gift, especially for Valentine's Day. I think the poor guys, especially, are under the gun. Give me anything lovingly and with affection, and I would be happy (this is coming from someone who's been nobody's Valentine for the better part of her adult life). However, a gift pointedly acknowledging a disadvantage or fault such as a weight issue...probably not a good idea.

In retrospect, it's pretty funny now, but I certainly did not appreciate it at the time. What did I do? Well, I returned that damned outfit to Target, went to Victoria's Secret and got myself a sexy little black silk ensemble. Much more flattering. I still have it.

Spending someone else's money

2009-01-29T11:19:00.002-06:00

Last evening, I tagged along with my young friend Sarah to help her pick out furniture for her first apartment. We went to Nebraska Furniture Mart, the country's, maybe even the world's, largest furniture store. On her list: a sofa (a necessity in the event of parties and guests) and possibly coffee table or bookshelves.

It ended up being kind of fun, at least for me. Too bad we didn't have a camera because it seemed pretty amusing the way we were systematically, and simultaneously, trying out each sofa for comfort by sitting or even laying down on it.

I think we must've tried out a couple hundred sofas. It was surprising how many (actually, most) really aren't comfortable at all, and cost was not necessarily an indicator of comfort or attractiveness. One in particular would've been good for a "Kodak moment" - it was enormous and pillow-endowed, built for freakishly tall people, I think. My feet stuck straight out off the edge, I couldn't reach the floor. Basically I pretty much disappeared when I landed in there amongst all those pillows! Sarah had to rescue me by pulling me up and out of the engulfing upholstery.

She ended up finding one she liked, although there was a more "girly" one that she might have preferred. However, taking into account untidy and rambunctious friends, she choose a classy, darker colored, more durable and comfortable one, which seemed more practical. A very cool, multi-functional coffee table was chosen, as well.

I have concerns that she feels a bit squeamish about the expense. I've been there a few times myself! I did try to assure her that at least this sort of purchase is rather an investment, and one she will not have to make again for a very long time.

All that sofa-testing and shopping was a lot of work! We were feeling some hunger pangs and ended up grazing at an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffett afterwards. Of course, I ended up eating too much.

Anyhow, I hope she enjoys her new purchases and discovers how cool it is to have your own place, your own stuff and the freedom of living on your own!

Inspiration, anyone?

2009-01-15T15:49:00.002-06:00

So...as I'm pretty new to this blogging stuff, I could use some topic suggestions. I still need to figure out why my photos aren't importing and fiddle around with "personalizing" my blog - making it all organized, pretty and stuff.

I've been known to be quite humorous, creative and even talented when it comes to writing...I think the subzero temperatures have caused my brain to resemble something similar to a raspberry ICEE.

The French say "Au revoir"...

2009-01-09T12:22:00.001-06:00

"Until next time." I hate saying goodbye. There is something too final about it, especially when it comes to bidding a dear friend farewell. Our friends have done a good job of documenting Jillian's "victory tour" and multiple going-away goings-on, so I will keep it simple.

Jillian, you have become a dear friend, in spite of the significant age difference (at least literally :) and relatively short time we've known each other. Thank you for being a shoulder to lean on, a sympathetic ear, a wiper-away of tears, a giggle-instigator, a nourisher of appreciative taste-buds, and an anchor when I sometimes go off the deep end!

Good luck in your exciting new adventures. Au revoir, my friend.

Pathetic

2009-01-07T12:03:00.000-06:00

Sometimes I wonder if I could screw up any more? Honestly, I try so hard to "do the right thing," often at the cost of my own happiness or comfort. This time has been difficult because I'm dealing with too many emotions and situations and it just went past my comfort level. I'm usually pretty good at being "unflappable" (as my boss calls me) but my defenses broke down this time. Too much information, too vulnerable. Me being whiney and pathetic. Inevitably, it seems I manage to make a mess of things anyway. Among other issues, I've probably alienated, hopefully only temporarily, a couple of friends that I care very much about.

It's Only Going to Get Better

2008-12-31T14:59:00.002-06:00

2008 was a year of transition for me. The two or three years prior had been hellish, with my un- and under-employment difficulties, some health crises, and trying to take care of myself and my house while working 60+ hours a week. My social life had all but disappeared. I was finally able to return to my beloved pastime, swing dancing, once I finally quit the part-time job at Red Cross in April.
I love my job with the City Council, and I am finally feeling a sense of security. That is a good thing in these times of economic woes. It would be nice if the salary were higher, but I look forward to going to work each day, have a terrific boss and co-workers, and it's always interesting!
My social life has come to revolve around Fridays: Jitterbugs Night Out dancing at the Eagles Club. It was a very different crowd, many different faces from before. Apart from a little "issue" with recalcitrant leads, and my ensuing facebook "rant" which generated not only nearly 100 comments, but some positive results - it's been terrific. I can't begin to say enough about my new circle of friends; I've come to care about them all very much, whether they want me to, or not :) I never cease to be amazed at the unique personalities, the talent, the camaraderie and dedicated friendships I am discovering. You've made my life so much better. Jillian, Sarah, Ben, Becki, Ben, Eric, Jessica, Lee, Matt and Vivian, Mark, Merinda and Troy - you have made my life richer, and me a better person.
2008 also brought some stand-out "Top 10" *ever* days in my life. The Shakespeare on the Green that got cancelled but became a "lemonade" day - I had just lost my beloved cat Pogo just a few days before, and spending time with my friends that day was healing. You have no idea how much I needed to *not* go home and what it meant for me to be with you all. Sunday, September 14 after Lindy in the Park. The beginning of the legendary "Order of the Shovel" - what a fun day! Dancing, ice cream, playing cards and pool, food and spending time basking in the company of friends. I just don't think it can get any better than that. It wasn't so much, for me, as to *what* we did, as long as it was with the extraordinary friends I was with. My parties: the September BBQ with uncooperative weather, lemon drop martinis and Emmalee the infamous fountain statue. The Order of the Shovel/movie (that never got watched) night last weekend. My birthday jam in October; without doubt, the most leads (guys and girls :) that I have *ever* danced with at any given event, in the space of about 5 minutes. I was honored to feel so cared about!
2008 started a trend in my life; I can see a brighter future ahead, surrounded by wonderful friends and family. 2009 can only be better!

Throwing Up Walls

2008-12-12T14:28:00.000-06:00

To be honest, this is not my favorite time of year. I really struggle to get through the holidays, even though I enjoy the traditions and spending time with friends and family. I explained to a friend recently that over time I've experienced several tragic emotional and physical experiences over the holiday season. My father died two years ago in mid-December. Even though we were estranged, it was difficult being the next of kin, making arrangements, and realizing that any chance of ever knowing him was lost forever. Quite a few of my large extended family have also passed away during the holiday season.
Ten years ago, the day after Christmas in 1998, I nearly lost my life in a catastrophic car accident. Critically injured, I spent New Year's Eve in ICU, months out of the workforce, and the following two years plus dealing with constant pain, illness, loss, recuperation (involving hundreds of medical appointments), a nasty lawsuit and trying to get my life back on track. Without doubt, the most difficult experience of my entire life. While I feel it made me a stronger person, it's left me with a sense of vulnerability that I have yet to overcome.
My way of dealing with emotional fragility seems to be "throwing up walls" to avoid being hurt. I often cover up how I'm really feeling about some one or some thing by hiding behind indifference. Or I try to avoid certain situations altogether.
I know this is self-defeating. I hate it because I know oftentimes it makes me seem cold and hard. The truth? I'm anything but that. I'm too soft-hearted for my own good, I run on my emotions, I feel passionately. I care too much. I internalize responses or reactions from people around me and if I'm feeling they don't "like" me, I take it personally and wonder how to make myself better.
I am lucky enough to have loving friends and family around me that understand and they keep me grounded, keep me from spinning out of control emotionally. One step at a time, and I will move on into a warmer, safer place where I can lower my defenses again.

Car Guts and Skeletons

2008-11-27T00:20:00.000-06:00

The boss was kind enough to let us leave an hour early today, so I found myself with an extra hour of daylight. Not wanting to waste it, I decided to visit the U Pull It scrapyard. A friend advised me to go there to try to find some metal hubcaps for my car. I'm tired of the cheap plastic ones that crack or break every time I go through the car wash, or if any work is done on my tires. My car is getting old and I certainly don't want to spend too much money, but a hubcap-less car looks kind of pathetic, in my opinion.

So anyway, I'm still dressed in my work clothes and three-inch heels and I walk into the trailer/office of this place and wow, it was like the parting of the Red Sea when I came in! The place reeked of testosterone and sweat and grease....and conversation pretty much ceased. Suddenly I was the recipient of sideways glances and feigned indifference. I'd like to think it was my overwhelming beauty and presence (*smirk*), but I think it had more to do with my invasion of their man-cave inner sanctum.

It was nearing closing time and when I mentioned what I was looking for, the entry fee got waived (perhaps being a girl was helpful in achieving that little perk) and directed "out that door and to the left" to the import car corpses. It was about a two-block walk. I picked my way gingerly across crunching windshield glass and automobile flotsam and jetsam and stuff that, well, I didn't really want to recognize. It was kind of creepy, walking through the skeletons of car bodies, and guys stopping to stare - "what the heck is she doing here?!"

Suddenly one of those guys hurried up to me and asked what I was looking for. I explained and he started to help me look. Unfortunately there seemed to be very few older Nissan Sentras and the only set of four matching hubcabs we could locate not only were the wrong size, but they were off of an old 70's era Ford Fairlane or something. I think my little Sentra would blow a gasket if I dared deface it with American-made hubcabs. Blasphemy!

I found out later that overall-ed, mustachio-ed Leo wasn't even an employee there, he was just looking for parts for his Mazda 626. As we picked our way through, he regaled me with descriptions of his 626, about Thanksgiving dinner being at his sister's place, and how he had dreamed of being a mechanic, but...

I thanked him for helping me and he insisted on "escorting" me back to the trailer, where the guy-talk volume got cranked down pretty quickly. Some guy accidently dropped the "f" word and was told to shut the hell up, there was a lady in the room!

This was my first trip to a junk yard (and probably not my last because I came away empty-handed), but I have to admit, there was a certain...chivalry, albeit a bit rough about the edges, about the experience. It's not often in this day and age of equality and whatnot, that I get treated like a lady. I felt a little out of my element, out of my class, but was surprisingly, and reluctantly, charmed. A caveat, however: this would definitely not be my choice on where to find a date.

The blessing of friendship

2008-11-25T21:42:00.000-06:00

As Thanksgiving approaches, we are all encouraged to reflect upon the good things in our lives. The last few years have been difficult, and sometimes it's been a struggle to focus on what is positive in my life. Life is better now. I have a job I love, a beautiful house, food on the table, my bills are paid, and I enjoy reasonably good health. But far above all else, I have my family and my friends.

Not all is constant; there have been losses and separations and misunderstandings, drifting away and deaths. Intimate relationships, in more recent years, have been few and far between (but not because I do not seek love, attraction, or connection. I am just waiting.)

However, if I could say I have a special gift, it is interacting and developing relationships with others. It is easy to make friends, I can walk into a party or take a class or strike up a conversation with someone sitting next to me, and come away with another acquaintance or addition to my circle of life. It has not been so easy, however, to let someone close to my heart, into my "inner circle." My mother, my best friend from childhood, a few others. These people ground me, they love me, they are what keep me centered.

Around this, my outer circle ebbs and flows with the rainbow of amazing people I meet from day to day. I am so fascinated. I love to hear about their lives, their stories, their dreams. I am amazed at the intelligence and talent to be discovered - that draws me like a moth to a flame! Intelligence - even better, intelligence with a great sense of humor - that is like "mind candy"! I love spending time with those who challenge me to think, to respond, and who make me laugh.

I am so lucky, because these special people are in my life now, and I know there are more to anticipate meeting. Can I possibly say how much I appreciate each and every one of you? I think I will make that my resolution for the New Year.

In the beginning...

2008-11-17T12:09:00.000-06:00

I started writing when I was a little girl. My mom taught me to read by the time I was four and I've been fascinated by words ever since. I wrote my first "book" when I was about seven, a fairy tale consisting of stapled-together pages of writing paper, illustrated with pencils and crayons. Mom still has it somewhere amongst her mementos.

About the time I was twelve, I began a diary, which I kept faithfully, nearly every day, until I was in my mid-twenties. My journalistic "career" began when I started writing for the school newspaper in 7th grade and continued through my graduation from college, when I earned my Bachelor of Arts in Journalism. My first love was creative writing, but at some point I figured I'd better focus on a more career-oriented degree. Ironically, I decided that being a reporter just wasn't what I wanted to do for a living, and my life took a different direction. I do not regret that decision. What I do regret is that I stopped writing. I lost the "muse" somewhere along the way and it is my intention to find the stories that live inside me and bring them to the surface again.