Family and friends

Today I attended a funeral for my friend Wendy’s mother. I never had a chance to meet her, so I have only known her through Wendy’s stories. In fact this was the first time I had the chance to meet the rest of her family. I was introduced to her two sisters, her father, numerous aunts and uncle and other family members. Now I am terrible with names, great with faces and voices, but really, really rotten with names. I remember things about people. So, basically I could meet you and remember that you grew up in Redding California, have 2 brothers and 1 sister, that you’re the middle child, studied geography in college, drive a blue Honda Civic, and love Jazz, but I will not remember your name. I can’t explain it, and it is certainly a handicap in my profession working in community outreach. What can I say?

So during the service my friend Debbi leans over and points to one the sisters and asks if I can remember her name. I had to admit that in my mind the two sisters have been condensed to “The Wine Drinker” and “The Teeth”. This response caused a very inappropriate laugh from Debbi, and she had to lean over to her mother, on the other side of her, and explain why she laughed in the middle of a funeral service.

Years ago the four of us, all best friends, my sister Danna, Debbi her next door neighbor, Wendy and me, (Debbi’s mom refers to us as the Cat Club) were out for a girls night. Danna and I got to telling stories about growing up in a family with a car curse. We basically prayed that the car would start, prayed all the way to where we were going, prayed it would start again, prayed all the way home and then said a prayer of thanks when we got home. Those bumper stickers that say “God is my co-pilot”, I know you’re seen them. Well, growing up in our family God logged a lot of flight time. We made a joke about being from a white trash family.

Wendy said she could out do us all in that area. She told us about her sister who had a drug problem (now clean), had gotten into all kinds of trouble, lived in a beat-up trailer park, and had lost all her teeth young. For Christmas one year her parents paid for a set of false teeth, and they went to Mexico to buy them. We conceded the point, but it was a close thing. So when I met Wendy’s sister today I couldn’t keep from staring at her teeth. They’re nice teeth.

We told Wendy about it later at the reception. She gave one of her wonderful laughs, and said her mother would have really enjoyed that, and how happy her mother had been that she had such close friends.

The truth is we are all really fortunate to have found each other and become friends. I guess Danna and I have known each other all our lives, but now Debbi and Wendy are as much our sisters as we are to one another. I once heard someone say that with family you get what you get, but you get to choose your friends.

I’ve made some really good choices, and I’m blessed with friends.

Busy days

Today was a flex day and I had a lot of errands to attend to: clean the house, mail off soldier boxes, pay my AT&T bill with the rebate cards I got in the mail yesterday, wrestle with Sprint to get my account paid off, buy some new books, grab lunch, a quick stop at the grocery store, finish my book, eat dinner with my son, and meet up with friends. I’m relieved to say that the friends thing fell though. It’s not that I didn’t want to see them and hang out, but I was ready to be done for the day.

By far the most daunting item on my list was wrestling with Sprint. I spent an hour on the phone yesterday trying to figure out why they were charging a penalty for ending my service early, since I was pretty sure I was past my contract date. I was told I had to go the store where I bought my last phone. I ended up visiting two different Sprint stores to discover that the error had occurred a year and half ago when I contacted them, by phone, to correct an over billing problem on my account. After almost 3 hours at two different stores they finally dropped the penalty and agreed they had billed me wrongly. I felt about 50 lbs lighter when I left knowing I was done with them forever. Well, “forever” may be a little too hopeful, since I’m fairly sure they’ll have it all screwed up again by next month and I’ll see another bill in the mail. The one totally consistent thing you can depend on with Sprint is that once they’ve tortured you as much as they possibly can, they’ll come back and do it some more. Sprint customer service, and Sprint account services, are total oxymorons.

I loved the trip to the book store!! I picked up new releases from Kim Harrison and Christopher Moore, as well as three other books. If you’ve never read Christopher Moore, treat yourself big time and pick up one of his books. He’s writing is imaginative, odd ball, and totally entertaining!! Check out his blog at http://blog.chrismoore.com/ you’ll love it.

I also enjoyed my son’s cooking and finishing my book, Danielle Steele’s Echoes. Talk about tortured characters, no one love to tortures their characters like she does. Still it was a good book and as usual I ended up caring about her characters deeply.
Matt made Creole gumbo which was fantastic!

Tomorrow is scheduled out as well: funeral for a friend’s mother, deliver neighborhood newsletters, shopping for solider boxes, baking a cake for another friend’s birthday. Strange, I will celebrate the end of one life and when another began. Strange how things work out!

Finding humor

As readers of my blog will know, I am a Soldiers’ Angel and have several adopted soldiers currently deployed. As an Angel, I send my soldiers care packages each month. It can be a challenge to keep the packages interesting. I recently found a very entertaining website called Bizarre American Holidays http://library.thinkquest.org/2886/INDEX.HTM that is a great place to go when you get stuck for a theme.

I was just looking at March and there is some especially fun days in that month.

· March 2…..Old Stuff Day, is that the Antiques Roadshow, or is it like dragging out all your old issues and driving everyone crazy?
· March 3…..I Want To Be Happy Day, I pretty much want to be happy every day; I’m just funny that way.
· March 5 …..Multiple Personalities Day, well I think we can all have fun with this one. I think I’ll go as Queen Elizabeth II, Whoopi Goldberg, Donald Trump, and Carrot Top. It should be an interesting day for everyone!
· March 8….Be Nasty Day, now I’m not sure if you’re suppose to cover yourself in something really disgusting, or just be mean and gross to everyone. Maybe both?
· March 17….Submarine Day, and you thought it was St Patrick’s Day. Oddly enough, May 12 is Limerick Day and May 13 is Leprechaun Day. Go figure!
· March 20 ….Proposal Day and Festival of Extraterrestrial Abduction Day, I just can’t tell you how fascinated I am that these two fall on the same day. Potentially one is the happiest days of your life, and the other the most terrifying. You can choose which one is which.
· March 26 ….Make Up You Own Holiday Day and Spinach Festival Day, I’m thinking that making up your own holiday kind of makes up for the spinach thing, unless of course you’re Popeye.
· March 27…. National “Joe” Day, is when everyone who hates their name can ask to be called “Joe” for the entire day. Really? We couldn’t come up with anything better then “Joe?” How about Your Highness, Oh Great One, My Lord and Master….there are just so many good ones to choose from.
· March 28….Something On A Stick Day, this just cracks me up. Like if I throw a hair ball on a stick it’s a party? I can’t even begin to imagine how this one came to be.
· March 30…I Am In Control Day, this day was obviously created so the totally delusional among us, of which there are more than a few.

You just never know where you will find humor. I figure a solder deployed needs a little humor with some crazy thrown in to get them through. Luckily for me, they invented the internet during my lifetime, providing with endless avenues of research.

Adopt a soldier today; join Soldiers’ Angels at www.soldiersangels.org

A view from the 10th floor

I have a window at my desk that looks out over the city. I’m on the tenth floor and can see the roof of the courthouse next door, the park block in front of the courthouse, the Willamette River running through the middle of town, bridges, and even Mt St Helens off in the distance on a clear day. If it’s clear and the mountain I is poofing, letting off steam, I don’t need news footage to see it. I can tell which direction the wind is blowing by the flag on top of one building, and get lost in the hypnotically distorted reflections from a black glass building.

Several times a day I see birds flying close to my window and one day I even found a bug on the outside of the glass!. There are a couple of Red Tailed Hawks that I see fairly regularly, usually only one at a time. Last year I was on the phone talking to a citizen about a construction project, looked up and saw both hawks out at the same time coming together in mid-air to mate. It was amazing! In fact it was so amazing that I forgot I was on the phone and hollered, “Oh wow, look at that!” The person on the phone was startled and I had to explain. (I know, very professional of me.)

There’s a lot I can see from my window and it is really a very pleasant view. The one thing I almost never see from my window are people, which is really weird since I’m in the center of downtown. When I’m at street level the sidewalks are covered with people. But, ten floors up it’s kind of a post apocalyptic view, like everything is still there, except people. This is strange when you consider that my job is all about connecting with people. In fact, my volunteering efforts are spent connecting with people.

Occasionally I do see people. The window washer has scared the hell of me a few times. It’s a bit startling to all of a sudden have a full grown man drop into the middle of your window. I’ve been know to scream like a school girl. They recently put a new roof on the courthouse next door and I had a front row seat for that. But really people are few and far between.

Even though I don’t usually see people I’m always aware of them. As a species we’re very noisy. Sirens, horns, jack-hammers, saw cutters, drumming, and occasionally chanting voices from a group of protesters.

Weather is very interesting from the tenth floor, like watching snow and rain, especially when it’s rising instead of falling. Watching how the sun casts shadow along the recessed surfaces of buildings. How fog can close in and still leave openings so you can see a building three blocks away, but not one that is two blocks away.

This whole experience gets me to thinking about the Greek gods sitting on Mt Olympus. Did they feel separated from the people below? Would that explain why they were less then kind and generous to the mortals they encountered when they left their perch?

Life on the tenth floor is amazing for the things you see and the thing you don’t.

The loss of a mother

Today one of my best friends lost her mother. That sounds like such a mild statement for the anguish I know she is feeling. Her mother was with her before she was born and there everyday of her life. She taught her to walk, talk, be a friend, be a mother, and how to give back to the world with a generous heart. The person she owes her life to and the person who molded her into the fabulous person she is today.

She sees her mother in the face that looks back at her in the mirror, in the hands of your own daughter, and in the phrases and mannerisms of her sisters.

Even though her mother is gone, she surrounds the daughter that still loves her, and the family that grieves for her.

My friend feels like an orphan, rudderless, and abandoned. Please send her you prayers and call your mother today.

What will it mean to be an American in the future

Today on the front page of the big local newspaper there was a headline “A green revolution”. I picked it up for that article since I’m in the Green business. It turned out to be an article about the world’s largest platinum environmental rated – the highest possible from the U.S. Green Building Council - construction project. It covers 16 square miles, it will have 20 elevators, 750 bicycle parking spaces, a conference room that doubles as a full-sized basket ball court. Incredible!! And where do you think they are building this amazing thing? Omaha, LA, Chicago… Nope, China! In Shanghai to be exact.

That’s right China, is going green in a major way. It is the fastest developing economy in the world, and has access to a major portion of the world’s resources. And, guess what? They’re serious about building that economy in a green way.

Over the past few years we have had several delegations visit us here to see what we are doing with green technology to address stormwater and sustainable building. Last year they top secretary for China’s environment was here in person. Also in the last year, China has paid to have delegations from our city go there and give presentations to their people on what we do. We aren’t the only people they’re talking to either. They are seeking out the best ideas and actively seeking ways to implement them. The Chinese have apparently taken Friedman to heart. If you haven’t noticed, it’s a whole new day!

In my last blog I asked the question, “What will it mean to be an American in the future?” As I see these types of articles it brings home to me that the rest of the world is catching up when we are trying to cut back. They are ready to go where the best minds can take them. Will those best minds be American minds?

In the past America has been the land where you can dream and create. It’s where other countries sent their college students to learn engineering, and hopefully to catch our “can do” spirit. Now India has opened an engineering university that rivals MIT, Columbia, or Stanford. Our students are having a harder time getting in a complete school year, and forget about niceties like textbooks. I fear we will very soon be falling behind.

It is my growing fear that in the future being an American will not mean what it has in the past. I see China and I see the dragon coming to life and setting itself up to reign as #1. That isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but I see us so focused on the wrong things that we’re not tending to the real basics, education, the environment, and basic health care. If we want to maintain our place in the world, we have to be raising the people that have the skills to compete, the opportunity to grow those skills and the desire to keep us in the forefront. These people have to come from across all socio-economic levels. It’s true that a team is only as good as its weakest player.

We need to adopt the Army’s slogan, Leave no one behind, and then really make it work.

My new American friend

Over the last week I have been emailing with a deployed soldier who is of Lebanese decent. He immigrated to the U.S. only 5 years ago. During our emails, I mentioned two people I have known in my life who had also immigrated from Lebanon, one a very fine gentleman who was well educated and well thought of in the community, and the other a girl I went to high school with. He was Christian and she was Islamic. He wrote me back to thank me for saying such nice things about his countrymen. This hit me in a weird way. Can you imagine saying something similar to someone, “Thank-you for saying nice things about fellow Americans”?

America is so strong that we generally expect people from other countries to like us, or hate us, and we don’t generally feel it too deeply one way or the other. Sure we feel entitled when they like us, and when they don’t we don’t really care too much about it.

In the same email he asked what my race was. I had mentioned that when we first moved to the Pacific Northwest from Houston that we were more than a little disturbed about the lack of racial diversity here. The answer was easy, I’m not just white, I’m bright white. I’m glow in the dark white. It’s sad how white I am, but there’s nothing I can do about it. God knows I spent my teen years burning in the attempt to change my condition, all to no avail.

My new friend also tells me that he speaks 4 languages. I had to admit that like most Americans I am very poorly educated in languages and only speak English, and sometimes that’s debatable. I can make myself understood in sign language, but at points I get pretty frustrated, the signs get really basic, and might involve only one digit.

He worked as an RN before he came to America but was unable to get licensed here and hasn’t able to practice. He hasn’t said exactly what he does for the Army but I know part of it involves interpreting.

So, here’s a guy with better manners and education then I have, who’s family has been here only 5 years, and who is now helping to keep me safe, and representing my country to the world. I just don’t think there’s a way to convey how humbling that is. I think about my ancestors who came here over 200 years ago to make their futures, all the families that have gown from those first ones. Capt. James Davis fought in the Revolutionary War for the Americans. We’ve had family in just about every war since. There is a feeling of entitlement that we often feel from a history like that, until we come across someone like my new friend and think about how our ancestors must have felt when they hit these shores and were the new kids on the block. Am I entitled by what they did? Will my children be entitled by what I do? What will it mean to be an American in the future?

I feel very fortunate to have made a new friend and to be exploring these questions, because knowing him has opened me up to them.

Hollywood, purse designers and crap

I watched a little bit of the Oscars last night, but since the only movie I saw this year on the list was Australia (at least I’m pretty sure it was up for something) I didn’t feel very vested in it. I did go online today to see how every one dressed and what grade they got. Mickey Roake was a mess, and he got a D. I think there were some pity points given since I don’t see how anyone could have given him more than an F. I thought the Indian actress wore a beautiful gown and would have given her an A, but they didn’t. Poor Miley Cyrus, she’s so cute and perky, but she needs someone to help her, just not Whoopi. Love you Whoopi, but what were you thinking? I have to believe you were just laughing at all the fashionistas.

And of course, what would the film world do without some manufactured drama: Did Jolie snub Ryan Seacreast, again? How dare they cut to a shot of Jolie while Anniston is making her presentation? Holy crap, what a bunch of nothing! Ryan Seacrest, as far as I can tell, is on the same level as that hotel heiress who is famous for nothing. I’m totally surprised anyone would talk to him. I find him annoying. I’m sure Jennifer has much better things to do than worry about Jolie. I doubt either one of them feels very threaten by the other. How sad would it be if two people with so much going far them were wasting time and energy on that crap?

I didn’t see Slumdog Millionaire because I thought it was some gang or rapper movie. I was obviously going strictly by the title. Now that I know more about it, I plan on seeing very soon. It looks great!!

Oddly enough I spent most of yesterday doing laundry, and finishing a book. Ironically, the book was about two Hollywood actors dealing with fame and the press. I loved the way the actress described the famous for famous sake girls the paparazzi love to follow around. She described them all as purse designers selling astronomically expensive purses that would be out of style before people could get them home, because these same press princesses would be carrying new purses by then. I loved that a purse designer, in her mind, equaled useless. Isn’t the English language wonderful that way?

I love that the Oscars celebrate creativity in film. I just wish more Oscar caliber films were being made. Most of what we’re feed is just …..crap.

What the hell were you thinking?

I work for a city whose mayor is openly gay. Not, a problem, it’s a pretty open and accepting city. The mayor is new to the role, but has been in city government for a long time and he’s pretty good at what he does. He has great vision, and is skilled at utilizing resources and lobbying for our city. I’ve worked with him in different capacities for a lot of years and he’s not afraid of hard work.

So, what’s the problem? Recently the news broke that back in 2004 or somewhere around that time, he had sex with an 18 year old page from the state capitol. This story has brought the city to slow grind. ALL the media wants to talk about is this story and what people think about it. There was a news conference by the two senators from our state to talk about some very important funding issues, and the only questions asked were about the sex scandal. City commissioner met to work on much needed affordable housing for the homeless, and all the media want to talk about is the scandal. City council meetings are held, and all the public comments are about the scandal.

While all the local papers are full of the most juicy tidbits on the scandal, and the important things that need to happen to get thing done in a timely manner, during a economic crisis are floundering. Some people want him to resign, others are standing by him. But, really it doesn’t matter if he does or doesn’t because then the questions from the media will still be about the scandal, and if he did the right thing by resigning when the city was wrestling with hard times.

I haven’t talked to our mayor since this all broke, which is probably a good thing. I’m sure the urge to slap him in the back of the head and say, “What the hell were you thinking?” would be too great to resist.

Here’s a good rule of thumb for all people, but probably especially for politicians….if they’re young enough to be your child, don’t have sex with them. You’re just going to look like a dirty old coot chasing youngsters. There’s no way to spin that or overcome it. And, forget about keeping it secret, it’ll never happen.

I know it takes a bit of a narcissist to be a politician, and that people really do fawn all over them and hang on their every word. Especially when they’re popular and doing a good job. It’s so easy to believe someone would be so honored they would protect you. You don’t even listen when your own people tell you you’re being an ass. So, what is the answer? Well, there may not be one, but I’m proposing a new governmental position, the official Head Slapper. I’ve been practicing my technique.

Save me from underwear

Underwear has been on my mind lately. I know, it usually goes on the other end of the body, but what can I say?

Anyway, there was a piece on the newsreader this called A Brief History of Underwear, and the photo was of the back end of someone with their underwear showing above the waist band of their jeans. I didn’t read the article, but I still have a lot of thoughts on underwear. First of all, it should be comfortable. I’ll never understand thong underwear because I just can’t imagine how in the world that could be comfortable. While it’s true that you can get used to just about anything over time, why would you want to get used to uncomfortable underwear? Second, I don’t want to see your underwear, I don’t care how cute you think it is, or what color it is. Why would I want to look at anyone’s underwear? There is just no mystery in life anymore!! And, third, keep it clean and don’t leave it laying around, but that just may be the mother in me.

I see girls with their underwear showing above their very low cut jeans and boys with their pants pulled down and their underwear showing. It’s like a generation of people that never learned how to dress themselves. The girls look like sluts, and the boys look like clowns. I shutter to think what they will create when they breed!!

What happened to looking cool and sharp? Or, God forbid……NORMAL. You know, like someone you’d like to hire, or would trust to know the difference between apples and oranges, or who could spell apples and oranges. I’m not against making a statement, or being hip, I just don’t think they’re thought about what they’re saying. Maybe, it’s, “Help, I’m a fashion victim!!”

Wanted: Cat Exorcist

My cat (Hinata) is not a normal cat. For one thing she constantly wants attention. If I am sitting still, she thinks I should be petting her. If I’m working at my desk at home, she tries to get between my hands and the computer keys so I can pet her. When the alarm goes off in the morning she tries to cover the clock with her body, so I will pet her. When she’s not trying to be petted, she is laying or rubbing up against me. Now I know these are things all cats do, I’ve had cats for a long time. But, cats also like to ignore you, act like they could care less if you notice them or not. They like to make it perfectly clear that they don’t need you. Hinata is totally clingy, and she never ignores me.

Also, she doesn’t do things all other cats do. She won’t chase string or any of the other stuff cats are usually so interested in chasing. She will chase a little electronic pointer light. She’ll chase that thing all day, and it’s not like she doesn’t know where it comes from. When the light disappears, she’ll give you a look that says you’d better get that thing tuned back on, and I mean right now!! Catnip has no effect on her, but she goes crazy over lavender. Also, she’s never done that hide and pounce thing that cats are usually so excited about.

Also, noise totally freaks her out. You know how cats love the sound of crinkly thing, especially things they can make crinkle? She just freaks. Same with paper. My other cats all liked to shred paper and hear it make a russeling sound. They favorites were paper sacks and newspaper. Not Hinata, the only paper she likes to shred is toilet paper.

She follows me around like a dog. She moves with me from one room to another, and never wants me out of her site. Of course while she’s following me around she is getting caught up in my feet. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve stepped on her or her tail. I think she may be trying to trip me. In fact, I think she might have mapped out a whole campaign to kill me!

She likes to sleep with me, cuddled up. For several days I was having a really difficult time walking because my hip was hurting like crazy. I had just about decided I needed to go see the doctor. One night I woke up and discovered the cat was sleep on that hip. I pushed her off, but she got right back on. I finally put her out of the room and shut the door. Guess what? My hip didn’t hurt the next morning.

Another night I had a dream I was drowning and couldn’t catch my breath. I woke up finally and found Hinata in my face. I put her out again. In fact, it’s now standard practice to close my bedroom door so she can’t get in.

I’ve got to tell you, I’m getting a little nervous worrying about what she is plotting. I mean she’s alone at home all day, with nothing to do but eat, sleep and stare out the window. She could be at home right now cleverly clawing through a chair leg so the next time I sit in it I’ll break my neck. Maybe I should for a cat exorcist.

Angels amoung us

In 2005 my son, Matt, was wounded while deployed in Iraq. (See Four words that stop you in your tracks) The Humvee he was driving hit a land mine. Matt’s feet were very badly wounded and he would eventually have his left leg amputated. His most serious injury was caused when shrapnel severed the artery in his left arm in three places. They did the life saving arterial graph in-country and then air lifted him to Germany.

Just after we were reunited and he was getting settled into his room at Brook Army Medical Hospital in San Antonio, I helped him go through the backpack that had traveled with him from Germany. There was basically everything in there that you need when you’ve been evacuated from a war zone with nothing. There was shaving stuff, toothbrush, tooth paste, socks, shorts, underwear, t-shirts, a comb, deodorant, even a phone card. It was really impressive. It was a plain black backpack with no markings. I asked Matt where he got it, thinking the Army had provided it somewhere along the way.

Not so. He told me he had been laying on a stretcher for a couple of hours in the back of a bus waiting to loaded onto the plane that would bring him back to the states. He was cold, (January in Germany) and his back was hurting from laying flat for so long. His wounds weren’t too bad since they had him medicated for that. He said he was laying there wishing he had a pillow and a blanket. All of a sudden he heard his name being called, then there was a lady with long blonde hair and a German accent standing beside him. She gave him a pillow covered in good wishes from a high school in Texas, a beautiful quilt made by a Navy family in Virginia, and the backpack. Then she was gone, and he hadn’t been able to understand a word she said. He said, “It’s like she was an angel of something!”

As I went through all the items in the backpack and got to the bottom, I found a business card for someone named Willie, from an organization called Soldiers’ Angles. There was an email address for Willie and a website for Soldiers’ Angels. I look up at Matt and said, “You’re right, it was an angel. Something called a Soldiers’ Angel.”

I checked out the website, www.soldiersangels.org, and learned it was started by the mother of two soldiers, Patti Patton-Bader. One of her sons, while deployed in Iraq, asked her to write letters to some of his men who had never received mail. She went a step farther and recruited her family and friends to help. Today Soldiers’ Angels have over 250,000 volunteers! The organization has many programs that help to care for deployed and wounded soldiers, and their families, as well as veterans.

All through Matt’s recovery, which took a year, the Angels were there to bolster us up with cards and letters, little packages and visits. It was amazing that people we had never met, and knew nothing about, would care so much for us. I still hear from Angels asking about Matt. (He’s doing great!)

I also sent an email to Willie, who turned out to be a German national and volunteer at Landstuhl Army Medical Center. Through the years we have continued to stay in touch and I have become a member of Soldiers’ Angels. Over the years I have adopted more than a dozen soldiers, written to many more, and recruited other Angels. Even after all these years, and all the people I have talked to, I’m still in wonder over the amazing work our Angels do, and the joy with which they do it!!

So keep in mind, where ever you go, and whatever you do, you never know when an Angel might touch your life.

Hello Cpt. Kirk

My day started off answering calls completely unrelated to my job. Contractors were calling wanting to get a city business license and they had been given my number in error. It was an interesting morning.

I was having a laugh with a co-worker telling her about it and we got into this whole crazy discussion about phones, and how it was in the olden days. (Who the hell invented that descriptor?) Back then we had the rotary dial phones. I haven’t seen a real one in use for years. The last time I had to use one it was like a torture. You pull that dial up and over with your finger, release it, and then wait for it to roll back and do it all over again six more times. I’d forget the number I just dialed, it took so long. That was for a 7 number call, now we make 10 number calls, plus “9” to get an outside line, but we do it so much faster, especially when we have the number in our speed dial.

I used to have tons of numbers memorized; now I only have a few. Numbers I call on a regular basis I would never be about to recite, they’re all programmed into the phone. Back in the day, we had little spring loaded, pop-up directories that sat next to the phone with everyone’s phone numbers and addresses written in. I loved moving the little indicator to the correct alphabet letter and then pushing down on the catch and watching the cover pop up. There was something very satisfying about that.

Years ago call waiting is what happened after you got a busy single and then had to wait to try again. You spent the time hoping they would be off the phone but still there to pick up..

Being put on hold meant the receiver was left hanging by the cord, or sitting on the corner of a table or desk. You got to hear everything going on in the room, no music usually. Although sometimes you got to hear things you weren’t suppose to hear. Things you wished later you hadn’t heard, but mostly just really boring stuff.

Voice mail was pretty spotty, we all had to rely on who every answered the phone to take a message and get it right. (Remember the old game Telephone? You got in a circle and the first person whispered something into the second person’s ear and then the second one whispered what they heard to the third and so on down the line. The last person never ended up with what was started.) We also had to hope they remembered to give us the message.

Call forwarding was especially difficult because you couldn’t leave a message on your phone. You would have to call everyone and let them know what number you would be at. It wasn’t like this was easy for the person receiving the info either, we didn’t have post-its back then. Keeping track involved bits of paper and old styled scotch tape.

A mobile phone was one with a 25 foot cord. And as for wireless, forget about it, that was just crazy talk.

What I find really amazing is that growing up on of our favorite TV shows was Star Trek, and one of the things I loved about is were the communicators. The way they pulled them out of their pockets and flip them open and began to talk. Holy crap Cpt. Kirk, we have met our future, and it is you!

Fantasies and phone books

My gal pals and I have developed some verbal shorthand over the years, as close friends will do in time. One of our more obscure terms is “reading the phone book.” Several years ago we were all in the car together listening to the radio and talking, of course. We were talking about what type of guy really gets our imagination going. For Wendy, it’s a cowboy in Wranglers and boots. Debbi likes a pretty guy all gussied up. Danna and I like big football players. No skinny guys with chests waxed for us. Debbi and Wendy like the hairless look. And of course, we’d all like a guy we can communicate with, who will never make us insane, and will be perfect. These are our fantasy men. Just like fantasy women they don’t really exist, they’re just nice to dream about.

All of a sudden Toby Keith comes on the radio and I have to admit I could look at him all day, and listen to him. I make the statement that he wouldn’t have to talk to me, he could just read the phone book in bed. We have a great laugh and from then on, “reading the phone book” = fantasy sex. When we play Taboo, we award an extra point if you can win with that phrase as a clue.

Debbi had her 40th birthday recently, or as she refers to it her 30-10 birthday. We, her closes and dearest friends, did the expected old hag gifts, but we saved a special gift for her celebration with just us, ….a phone book. Wendy, Danna and I went through and marked suggestive names and wrote in comments across the page. We then marked the page with a sticker tab. We marked over a hundred pages and laughed ourselves silly doing it. When we gave it to Debbi she loved it, and started going through the book reading off the names and comments. At one point I was worried she would stop breathing she was laughing so hard.

We teased her a lot about sharing it with her steady guy. Turns out he’s not such a big fan of the phone book gift. Go figure!

Lucky future

Saturday evening I got together with my gal pals: Danna, Debbi and Wendy. My 17 year old niece was there and a new friend. We gorged ourselves on cheese fondue and then on chocolate fondue for dessert. There were also adult beverages available except to the Harley, my niece. We had a great time, but then we always do. We played dominoes and Crainium.

We caught up on each others’ jobs, families, and interests. We’re a varied group in some ways, and remarkably the same in others. Debbi and Wendy are bankers. Debbi does something with internal services to bank departments and other banks. Wendy is a loan officer of some kind. Danna is a sign language teacher in high school, and a freelance interpreter. I, of course am in community relations. We have all been divorced at least once, Wendy and I twice. All of us have been married at least twice, except Debbi. Danna is the only one married at the moment, and Debbi has a steady guy. Danna and I are sisters and grew up in Texas. Wendy grew up in California, and Debbi grew up here in southwest Washington. We all have children. Debbi has two girls, Danna has one boy, Wendy has one girl and I have a boy and a girl. Our children range in age from 9 – 28. So far I’m the only grandmother, but one of Debbi’s daughters is married. We are all the major bread winners in our households. We are all involved in community service through our neighborhood, local school, and church, but of course not all the same things, but we do support one another’s programs and activities. We all live in the same neighborhood, Debbi, Danna and Wendy all on the same street and I’m a block over.

Now throw all this together and you get a hilarious mix for playing something like Crainium. I can’t sing or hum and I’m hopeless at guessing songs, and I can’t spell forwards, much less backwards. But I’m great at factoids and any kind of drawing or clue giving. Wendy knows nothing about geography or science, but is a wiz at numbers, and horses. She’s a great guesser and she has the most infectious laugh on the planet. Debbi is our pop diva and knows everything about pop culture, 80’s music and food. Danna is a spelling champ, great actor and good at general knowledge. If we could all play on the same team we’d be unbeatable, except when we have to spell as a group. I’d screw that up. Playing against one another we’re just crazy.

My niece was having a good time with us, and we were enjoying her company. At one point Danna turns to her and says, “This is your future!” waving her arm to indicate us all. Harley looked a little shell shocked, and then Debbi adds, “Yeah, this is your future if you’re lucky!” Poor Harley didn’t know what to think about that. We knew it was a very true and profound statement, but we also knew that if we had heard that 17 we would have been horrified.

Here’s to good times, great friends and knowing when you’re in the midst of both!!

Lifetime training

I was just looking at photos from something called the Tough Man Competition. It was a lot of healthy looking men running through smoke and fire, climbing over, under and through things, swimming and sliding, basically it was very physical, and the guys did look pretty good doing it. Well, except for the series of photos where they were blowing mud and dirty water out of their noses. Yuck!! Who would think any of this was fun? This is basically the plot of every Southern prison film every made.

I’m sure it was all very exciting, and if I had been there I probably would have been caught up in the excitement and found someone to root for. I wouldn’t have so excited that I would want to jump in and give it a try though. For the most part this kind of thing is not for me unless you have….no, it is just plain not for me no matter what prize you have.

I’m waiting for a really good competition, something creative and useful, like creating a sculpture from common household clutter, constructing the best PTO Carnival flyer, or perhaps organizing the best birthday party for an older friend. These are things that serve a purpose, brighten everyone’s day, and at no time do you need to be hosed down. (Well, you might have to be at some point during the party, but we don’t need to go there right now.)

It makes me wonder what a Tough Woman Competition would consist of. There would be the balancing portion where you have to carry your purse, work bag, a child and three bags of groceries from the car to the house without dropping anything or making more than one trip. We’d have to include fitting a week’s wardrobe into a carry-on and still be able to close it. Then there would be hearing the best piece of neighborhood gossip ever and not telling anyone. But the most difficult one would have to be not saying anything when you see one of your children doing something truly stupid. Now that would be a competition I’ve been training for all my life!!!

Hail to me!

Last night at our neighborhood association meeting, I was elected to be the new vice president. So, move over Joe, Dick, Al, Dan, and Spiro!! Ok so maybe being the vice president of the neighborhood association is not on the same level as vice president of the United States.

The company isn’t exactly illustrious. In fact, I can’t even remember who Jimmy Carter’s VP was. If I were to take my queue from the list above I would have a lot of choice. Joe is a great guy and everybody’s buddy, but only opens his mouth to rearrange his feet. Dick has some definite possibilities. I could shoot someone with total impunity, and still carry on my power hungry crusades. Al is green, tech savvy, and has an Oscar. That part doesn’t sound too bad, but then I would have to run for president, win and then still never get to sit at the big table. Then there was Dan, what can you say? Even I can spell potato and know better then to take on Murphy Brown. As for Spiro, I’m just hoping our president doesn’t get caught in the act of anything too shady, I’d hate to have to back him up. Since I can’t remember who Carter’s vice president was, I’m assuming his job was to keep Billy Carter out of trouble and we all know how well that worked out.

So, I solemnly pledge to only put my foot in my mouth as few times as I can manage. I swear I will not shoot anyone while duck hunting in Texas and will keep my power mongering to a limit. I will continue to be green and make every effort to embrace technology; I can’t guarantee that technology will embrace me. Should I win an Oscar I promise to display it in the community center. If I get too dumb and embarrassing I give permission now to recall me, of send me hunting with Dick. And, thank God our president has no brothers needing babysitting.

Hail to me!!

Little Green Men with Phones

I’ve hated my phone company for years. I hated them when they were my phone company years ago. I fired them, and paid for the privilege. Got a new phone company, and low and behold several years down the road they were “merged” with the hated first phone company. Well it turns out they were really taken over by the first company and all the crappy customer service came right back. Yeah, yeah I know, we all hate our phone companies, it’s a universal condition. I’m sure that when we finally meet up with those little green men from outer space, they will also hate their phone companies, and probably for all the same reasons: dropped calls, spotty coverage, and customer service personnel that are trained in only for sales. God help them if they show up here looking for better service!

Now I have a new phone company, which for the moment I’m happy with. I’ve got a new phone with a ton of bells and whistles. It’s a……..Blackberry, or as they are sometimes referred to…….. a Crackberry. I’ve got to tell you, I’m really beginning to see the Crackberry side of this thing. I’m already totally addicted. I get why Obama fought so hard to keep his. Of course, I still haven’t figured out how to retrieve my voice mail. But I know how to take a picture and email it from the phone. I’ve actually sent a successful text message, and entered my complete phone book!

But the very best thing about my new phone is, and this is something that only an older person will appreciate…I can read the screen without my glasses!! My phone is a snazzy red, too!

Four words that stop you in your tracks

And the winner is…
Will you marry me?
We’re having a baby.
Oh shit, damn it!

There are a lot of four word combinations that can impact your life in very significant ways. The particular combination I’m talking about just happened to be, “There’s been an incident.”

If you just sit a minute and imagine all the situations in which this phrase could come up, you will undoubtlably think of minor occurrences such as spilled milk, or dire events like dropping the atomic bombs. For me these words came over the phone one evening in January 2005. They came completely unexpectedly.

Calling back on a message left on my answering machine, I reached to Department of the Army calling about my son, Matt, who was at that time deployed in Kirkuk, Iraq. I wasn’t stressed when I called, thinking it was another call to invite me to a family-of-the-troops function. Then came THE words… “There’s been an incident.”

You hear how a person’s mind goes blank and they can’t grab onto anything at times like this. That didn’t exactly happen to me. Instead, as the sergeant was talking and trying to explain things, my mind started racing with all the horrible possibilities: death, capture, impending death. Then came the four word combinations that brought some measure of relief:

No, he’s not dead.
No, he’s not dying.
He’s not a prisoner.

Over the next year Matt went through countless surgeries, including the amputation of his left leg, and much physical therapy. There were ups and downs, and steady improvement. Life is now back to normal, what ever that is, and Matt is looking at the possibility of being deployed again. Something he is up for, but I’m not sure I am.

I’d rather hear some four work combinations from him that go something like this:

She’s a great girl.
We are getting married.
We’re having a baby.
They lived happily ever after. (Ok, that is five words, but I could live with it.)

What a Nickel Buys

I am the employ of a west coast city. My current work involves large public works projects for which I provide community relations services. This means I notify people of the project, its scope, and impacts. I also work with neighbors and business to address concerns and deliver meaningful input to the design.

I have worked in community relations in this city for 13 years, 8 in crime prevention and 5 on public works projects. I love my job, I’m very good at it, and I work with an awesome team and an amazing public. I have literally seen it all, heard it all, and been abused and loved by the public in the extreme at various times.

I can’t tell you what it means when someone takes the time to send me a card, email, note, or letter to acknowledge the work I’ve done. It’s very true that people are much more likely to do these things when they are unhappy, as opposed to when they are happy. So, take a moment and let your public employees know when you appreciate them, in writting.

On the other hand, here are few tips for when you’re unhappy with us:

#1 “Why do you have do this here? Its going to mean I have to park my car in the next block.” Answer: We have to do it here because this is were the problem is, or this is best place to save money and time. -- As much as a project may inconvenience you personally, remember its not all about you. Its about the greater good, and it is never personal. Frankly, we’re too busy to be pitty; we have 20 or 30 other projects we’re dealing with at the same time and 20 or 30 more coming on-line soon. So we really aren’t trying to make your life impossible. We’re just trying to get the work done.

#2 “We might want to put a driveway in there one day. Why didn’t you think about that in your design?” Answer: We had no idea you were thinking of putting in a driveway. We knew that there might be issues we couldn’t anticipate. That is why we have sent you three different mailings, held two public meetings and left you our business cards. We wanted to know if you had any concerns. -- If you have a problem call us right away, don’t wait, or it may be too late to make adjustments. We want to make the project work for as many people as possible and will make adjustment to the plan as much as we can to address your issues, if konw about them in time. We’re working with public money and trying to stay on schedule and be responsible. We can’t help you with your problem if we don’t know you have one. As many things as we try to anticipate, we can't anticipate everything.

#3 “You have to do what I say, I pay your wages and I’m your boss!!” Answer: Well there is really no answer I can give publicly on this one. At this point you’re just wasting both our time. -- Don’t assume that the money we’re working with is local tax dollars. A lot of the money spent, especially on public works projects, come from federal grants, and billing revenue (water, sewer, etc).

What I’d really like to say to #3 is, “Here’s a nickel, call me in 5 years. Oh yeah, and keep the change.” There are about 300,000 individuals and businesses paying local taxes in my area. If you consider my salary against that, a lot of that nickel will be change. So, don’t make me reach for a nickel!!

Snot vs Acid

I'm getting over a really bad cold, so for the past week and a half I've been blowing Olympic amounts of super industrial strength snot. Even though I'm feeling much better, I'm still blowing. Where does it all come from? And, how can a body feeling so bad produce so much?

Spider man is a rank amateur; if I had been slinging snot I could have traveled the Manhattan skyline back and forth a thousand times. And don't even get me started on the effect of that snot on bad guys, because we all know how bodily fluids freak out guys. Why is that? They will play ball in the mud, dive into engines full of grease and oil, laugh at their own production of noxious gas, but let someone get sick and a few fluids show up and you'd think it was nuclear waste mixed with acid.