Should Old Acquaintances Be Forgotten?

It's another New Year's Eve, and we all tend to get into reviewing this past year's gives and takes and wishing for a better new year. 

As far as I'm concerned, 2010 sucked sea water in a big way.  I lost my job, we lost Uncle Mike, and even lost our 16-1/2 year old cat.   But hey, we have our health, right?  Well...more or less.

I am very grateful for my family and friends.  I really dig my two kids and their dad...even as he sits across from me at his laptop, sniffling and coughing with a cold.  I am hopeful that 2011 brings health, happiness, and full employment to all of us.  I am enrolled to complete the two outstanding electives I need to get my degree -- thanks to the generosity of my husband and kids -- and hope (again...that word) that it brings me to full employment.

Some old acquaintances are better left forgotten, let's face it, right?  Others are golden and should be kept close to the heart.

I wish everyone everywhere (well...mostly everyone) the best of the new year.  Stay alert, stay low, and stay true.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Our daughter's birthday was on December 23rd, and I am not free to tell you how old she is as evident from Christmas Eve when I reminded her uncle and older cousins about her age.  She's come to that sensitive part of aging, I suppose. 

Her birthday is two days before Christmas, and let me just say that she was due on December 5th, and had we NOT gone in to get her, I'd still be pregnant with her, and it would not have been pretty.  Anyway, she was the best Christmas present for us, especially in light of the year we had...losing both of my parents within six weeks of each other.

Anyway, the most important thing about that year was the most beautiful baby girl in the world who was brought out to me at the hospital on Christmas Day in a huge red stocking.  She is still totally beautiful, smart, sassy, and funny to boot. 

My husband and I are so absolutely thankful for this Christmas gift and for that of her brother three years later.  Forever, they will be the best gifts!

I cannot close without talking about the Christmas Eve tradition of hanging out with my oldest brother's kids, grandchildren, step-grandchildren, friends, lovers, whatever.  It is a night filled with food, laughter, drinking, food...  It is also a night we reminisce and feel the loss of my sweet sister-in-law who's been gone for two years now.  These are her children too, and her presence is everywhere -- in the decorations and especially in the baked goods of her daughters and her sister.  We all miss her terribly, but her legacy of love is strong and very powerful.

The noise level is off the charts as the small, all male grandchildren run amok shooting at each other and dragging older cousins into their fray.  Some of the still older "cousins" hang out at the playroom bar and try to see how many drinks they can slam back before going outside to get sick and/or get on the road to drive home...such a comforting vision and thought.

In any case, I love being with my brother and his huge family.  It's so loud, but it just would not be Christmas without it.

Well, greetings of the season.

It's Yours, I Want It, So I'm Taking It...Huh?

OK...it's come to this...one of our long-time neighbors around the corner has had a tradition of displaying a nativity scene each year at Christmas.  Even for a recovered Catholic like myself, it was just a sweet holiday tradition that is part of the neighborhood we've called home for 30 years.

That is...until someone decided that what was someone else's just had to be theirs, so they STOLE the nativity scene...baby Jesus, Mom, Dad, and all the animals.  What is wrong with people, can you tell me?  What happens inside of their brains that clicks and says, "I want that, so I should have it!"  Puhleeze do not give me the whole bad economy crap...no one has the right to steal...it's just too wrong, especially when you're stealing someone's representation of their faith.  Helloooooo!

Give it back and apologize.  I truly believe that if you kick dust into the face of the Universe, she will get you back in the softest and most vulnerable place on your metaphysical behind...it may take some time...but you can bet you'll be gotten back.

Good grief!

Long Vacation?

I applied to what must the 20th job posting for my former company.  It wasn't just any job...it's essentially a former job of mine, sans one key element, my former boss.  I even had contact with the hiring manager who I've known and worked with and who (almost) sounded glad to hear from me.  And yet, I have not heard anything from the company, despite her assurances that she would be in touch with HR about my application.

I think I have a very thick skin for rejection when it comes to job applications...or maybe just a thick head.  As I try to view each day as another opportunity for a phone call from a potential employer, the truth the silence of the phone and the lack of emails screams..."too old, too experienced, too much money, etc." to me.  Next month will mark my year of discontentment.  The HR director who said that I should view my time off as "a long vacation" and that I should apply to my company for jobs knew that I would never come back, and not because of lack of trying on my part.

Next month, I will take the two boxes that I packed when I left my former company and dump their company-specific contents.  Long vacation...ha!

What's in a Name

Years ago, when my coworker friends and I were to the punched-out point at work, we'd amuse ourselves by coming up with unique baby names.  For example, one of the names was Uvula (that's the thing hanging in the back of your mouth, for those not familiar with the orginal SNL cast singing about the care of said uvula).

Anyway, we'd have imaginary conversations with these unfortunate children, "Uvula, come in from outside now, dear and do your chores!"  "Fallopian honey, please stop feeding the baby the dog's food."  "Uterus, mind your manners when company is here!"  We go on and on until we were laughing so hard our collective uvulas, fallopian tubes, and uteruses would get a cramp and we'd end up crying.  An idle mind is the devil's playground, right?

Which brings me to when my oldest brother and sister-in-law were having one of their six kids (yes, I did say six), she was in the hospital room with a woman who had even more kids than her and my brother.  The poor woman was pretty tuckered out, and she was plum out of baby names when the nurse came in to check on what her new addition would be called.  She thought and thought and finally looked down and said to the nurse, something to the effect, "The baby's name will be Fem-a-lee."  The nurse commented on what a pretty name, and would the lady please spell the name?  "F-E-M-A-L-E."  True story...I swear! 

Southern Italian Cooking Northern Italian...Basta!

So, have you ever cooked polenta?  Me neither...until today. 

I was making a lunch of our weekly fish-type dish (tilapia), and I figured I would bring it up a notch and add polenta.  Now, if you don't know what polenta is, it's cooked cornmeal stuff.  The stuff, before adding water, has the consistency of Cream of Wheat hot cereal.  Don't get me wrong, I love Cream of Wheat, so I was pretty hopeful.  Besides, my friend whom I've known since the beginning of her time (I'm older) and her family would just gush all over about the "polenta parties" they would have...they're Northern Italians...should have known better coming from the back of the boot on the other side of where they're from and due south (Bari).

So, I seasoned the fish and put it in the oven, and proceeded to follow the instructions on the polenta box...simple, right?  I even made the onion and mushroom and white wine topping (I have so been home way too long).  The fish and the vegetables turned out fine...the polenta...meh.  Let me put it this way, my husband of over 30 years, who will try anything, wrinkled his nose and didn't go for it.  My son and I tried it...it wasn't even interesting.  I guess polenta is a lot like tofu in the way it absorbs the flavors of the spices and food around it because there is no taste whatsoever without the topping that I made...and even that didn't save it.  Needless to say, the polenta ended up in the trash.  Polenta parties...ha!

I still have a half of box of polenta left...what to do, what to do.

Have I Been Re-Invented and Not Know It?

OK...so we've all read stories about people (mostly women...coincidence...I think not!) who have successfully gone on to restructure their careers and their lives -- either on purpose or have been forced into it like those of us who have been outsourced...and we know who we are, right?

Anyway, I am looking at a year of being unemployed...it is not a nice place, let me tell you.  I have applied to so many different jobs in different industries, including my former company, and the only place that sounded like a viable hire was the crazy man who wanted me to take his animals to the vet's...huh?

So, my question is this...have I been re-invented and not known it?  And, if I have, what the hell am I already 'cause I'm a little confused.  Maybe my re-invention is to be unemployed and miserable...so can I re-re-invent myself as employed...puhleeze?  I don't want to head a multimillion dollar company, I just want to get back that part of me who interacted with fellow employees in a place that is not wrecking the environment or hurting small animals or children and is a good corporate citizen to boot.  Holy crap...can you believe what I just said...I am being sucked into a wormhole.  Or, maybe it's just that all the pre-holiday desserts that I've been baking (and eating, God help me) have put me into a sugar/carb/cholesterol/fat state of mind.

In the end, I think I just want to be re-invented as myself...is that such bad thing?  I think I hear a chocolate chip cookie calling my name...maybe the banana or pumpkin bread...or the pizzelles...in Italian no less.

Thanksgiving

I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving.  We had a very nice one, save for some drama that I won't go into about here, and enjoyed great food and laughter with family who we love.

My husband and I never had the dilemma of which parent house to spend which holiday with because we lost our parents early in our relationship.  Whenever I hear others grousing about the travels and tribulations associated with this dilemma, I wish we could have had some of that.

I am so very thankful for our family, especially the gift of our two terrific kids who have grown into terrific adults.  Too often the holidays bring out the worst in family dynamics (hence the previously mentioned drama), and coupled with too much food and alcohol, things are said and done that strike out at the people we love and need the most.

I'd like to think that, for the most part, we are all very thankful for the people in our lives, despite our differences (or maybe because of them?).  Each of us brings a bit of ourselves to the other, and no matter whether it's good or bad, we affect each other.  It's so much better to leave a good sprinkle rather than a bad, I'm thinking.

Normal in an Abnormal Way

Today marks the second anniversary of the death of my sister-in-law, Joan.  I called four of her and my brother's six kids to tell them I was thinking of them; I didn't call the other two for my own reasons.

My brother has since moved on and remarried, and I'm feeling a moving on from the kids, particularly the three girls who live locally.  By the way, the "kids" are in their 30s and 40s and have children of their own.  I am glad that my nieces are doing better because they were their mother's primary caregivers during her short and lethal illness.  I helped them by staying with them, and I got to know the strength of these young women that they probably never realized they had until they had to give their wonderful mother her meds and clean up after her.  We never know our own strength until we have to push something away or hold up something or someone.

The youngest daughter (and child) would -- over these two years -- bemoan the fact that her life "would never be the same" since her mother's death.  I would listen to her and think about my own trip to a new normal when I lost both of my parents within six weeks of each other while I was pregnant with my first child.  I realized that I have now lived my life longer without my parents than I lived with them...life never the same, right?

So, whenever we experience a change in our life, whatever we've considered "normal" is irrevocably altered.  So, what was normal is gone, and a new normal takes its place.  What my life would have been with my parents in it to meet their granddaughter and grandson is something that I could not know and have tried to imagine over these 29 years.  I have lived my life and watched life without them, and it's been a fairly normal life, more or less.

And, my nieces and nephews, and even my brother have been enveloped by a new normal in their lives.  It is not that we forget those who have passed or disrespect them with our lives without them, it is because of them that we need to succeed in the new normal that they've provided us.

I miss my parents and what they have missed in not knowing my children and seeing that my husband and I are still together, but would things have gone as they have with them here?  Wouldn't my brother's and his kids' lives have gone on with their wife and mother?  But, what life would have been with them and my parents is something we can only imagine.

You Have Got to Be Kidding!

It is amazing what a few minutes can do to your mood.  I had two interviews for a job this week that I really would have liked. 

I thought everything went well, and was heartened by the second interview request I had today.  After reworking my schedule -- yes, I do have a schedule -- I dressed to impress and went to my second interview.  All seemed to go fairly well, but something was a bit tinny about this second interview, especially when I was told I was the last of the candidates to be interviewed.  Hmmm...was I an afterthought rather than a viable candidate?  The HR representative asked me to provide her an additional professional reference, and on my way home from the interview, I called to check in with my former SVP to gain clearance to use his name and contact information; he was glad to do so.

Within minutes of my providing the contact information, I received an email back from the principal interviewer to tell me that the position had been filled, blah, blah, blech!  You have got to be kidding me!  Color me disappointed, but more PO'd than that.  I was flexible and agreeable to rearranging my day to come back to meet, and this is the result?  Geez!

In any case, I do have two additional applications to the same organization...should be interesting.  And here I thought all my efforts these past 10 months would finally be rewarded.  I am so tired of this dance.

Green Eggs and Spam

So, my five-year-old laptop, the one I bought to get me through college (which it did admirably except for two outstanding elective courses I need...my issue, not the laptop's) is very, very sick. 

I thought I was being really good about not accepting suspicious emails from family and friends.  You know what I'm talking about...the ones that have some kind of political or religious junk embedded into it along with some cute animal pictures.  I have totally been guilty about sharing pictures or YouTube stuff, I admit, and I'm hoping nothing harmed anyone's elses's computer.  However, someone, somewhere tossed me something stealthy and stinky, and even with the addition of Norton 360, my little laptop is not where it should be...mostly alive, that is...waaaahhhh.

I love that little laptop likeI love my six-year-old car with over 100,000 miles on it (oh no...did I put that out into the Universe only to have it snap me in the soft part of my Italian-American...aauuuuggghhh.  Puhleeze don't hurt my little Subie). 

When your main job is regaining a job, being without a computer is like being sensory deprived.  I figured I'd stumble through and use my husband's laptop when he was at work.  I was seriously afraid to open anything because of being so severely burned...and then...my dear husband did something very unexpected...he offered to get me another laptop!  How cool is that?!

So, here I am on my new laptop, continuing my job search, and deleting my friends and family emails that look to have anything other than a plain old email (sorry!).  I will not open anything that eggs me on, I do not like spam I am.

Goblins and Ghoulies and Too Much Candy

So it's Halloween, and our door bell has been consistently ringing since about 5:30 p.m.  Honestly, I am not a fan of Halloween...except for the candy which I am so bad about...my dentist will be very pleased.

It's the whole "drop-in" guest thing that really bothers me the most.  I don't like anyone coming to my door unless it's been a planned visit -- that especially goes for Jehovah's Witnesses, insurance sales, young people who are supposedly working their way through school by selling magazine subscriptions, books, candy, or their souls.  It's not even a result of age...I've never liked drop-in guests, and Halloween really works that nerve.

I do have to admit, the little ones are very cute.  They have their little hands into the candy basket and barely get "trick or treat" out as they're grabbing away.  That's okay, I guess.  Then you have the people who look like they've driven themselves to your neighborhood and don't even bother with costumes...they really crack me up.

I'm letting the little darlings take as much of the candy as they want...the more they take...the less I eat.  Besides, when I run out, the front porch light goes out, and we're closed for another year.  It usually gets quieter around 8 p.m., although some diehards are still roaming the neighborhood, stumbling as their sugar highs start to wane. 

The best thing about Halloween is that the next holiday is Thanksgiving which is my very favorite holiday of all...no pressure to buy the right stuff and spending way too much.  Thanksgiving is about the gathering of family and friends and the endless food fest.  I like to bake, and this is the time of year I start the oven and pizzelle iron and keep them both going well after New Year's Day.

So, have a safe and happy Halloween.  Please don't stop by my house after 8:30 p.m.

Is It Me Or What?

Ok, I have to admit that by writing a blog, I do (often) reveal a lot about what is happening around me and my life, so the whole Facebook bashing may be a bit harsh...or not.  That said, I'm still not convinced about Facebook.

Anyway, I am still in the netherworld of the unemployed, and it is a dark, dank place.  One of my nieces was laid off last week, and she already has two interviews scheduled for this week.  Could the fact that she's over 20 years younger than me have anything to do with it, or what? 

Listen, I am totally fine with a salary that is below what I had been making at my previous job...especially considering a job closer to home.  However, there comes a point when you have to weigh the expenses associated with a job (commuting time, gas, car and wardrobe maintenance, etc.) and what you have clutched in your anxious fist at the end of the day, right?

The advantage of my being home is that I've been able to assist my husband and son in a huge mailing that he (husband) has created for his business.  That's good.  And, I've been available to my brothers when they've had medical things and visited my sweet Aunt Dot in the middle of the morning, and even was able to care for my elderly cat before she died.   So, Universe, can you cut me some slack now?

May I get a real job, pretty puhleeze?

Social Networking -- in the Flesh

I just had breakfast with four of my college friends today, and it was so great to be with them.  The group is really seven of us, but two could not make it, unfortunately.  In any case, it was so good to catch up with the other four today.

Do you ever step outside of yourself and the conversation you're having and just observe?  As I was talking to two of the women, the others were having a conversation about something else, and I just kind of (metaphysically) shook my head at our ability to be together as one group yet function on different levels of conversations and connections.

Three of us are in our 50s -- two of us are pushing 60 -- one is in her 40s, and the "baby" is just 30 and expecting her first baby soon.  Out of the five there, three of us could be a parent to the youngest one, and have kids either close to her age or older.  Yet, over the course of the two-year college program we were in, we bonded and created friendships.  We may not be at the same place in our lives, but somehow, we've found a common ground with each other, and it's one of the best experiences of friendship I hold dear.

Life is a funny place, and with each path of our journey through it, we touch and are touched by all kinds of people and experiences.  Some of sloughed off purposely; others fall of their own accord. 

We have to work at keeping connections with each other, and I'm guessing that is the purpose of some of the social networks out there...Facebook for one.  I have managed to not get involved with Facebook...it is just too much information for my taste, and it's kind of creepy in a stalker kind of way, as far as I'm concerned.  If I want to know more about you, I'll give you a call or send you an email asking you about your life.  Send me pictures through the snail mail or on holiday cards or in email.  Don't you think that by posting everything friggin' thing you've done in an hour is a bit much?  Not to mention, posting your kids' pictures on a public board (yes, I know you can add blocks) seems to me an open invitation to creepy (yes, I've used the word again...it's so appropriate) relatives and the like.

You don't have to see the new movie to know that Facebook was created by college kids for that age group.  Now, it appears that everyone and the granny is on it...shouting to cyberspace that they are doing this or that.  Hmmm...I do not care enough I'm guessing.

Anyway, I'm just glad that these fantastic women and I have kept in touch.  There are new babies to talk about and passings, and just life.

Grilled Cheese & Tomato Sandwiches & Love

I went over and spent some time with my Aunt Dot yesterday morning.  She lost Uncle Mike just a few days before their 62nd wedding anniversary, and she's determined to stay in the house for as long as she is able.

Isn't it funny that as kids, we have the adults in our lives imprinted in our memories as looking a certain way, being tall or whatever.  Whenever I see my Aunt Dot, I'm still taken aback on her fragility.  She was never a big woman, but being 88-years-old has made her even tinier.  Can I tell you that she is such an adorable woman, and we had a very nice time talking about Uncle Mike and the crazies in the family.

I'm not sure we cherish our elderly as much as we should in this country.  The older traditions have given way to the fast-paced world we are in today, and we forget that these people represent our childhood and our family history.  If we don't keep in touch with them, we lose touch with ourselves in so many ways.  Aunt Dot talked about her parents and her family growing up in West Virginia (seems an odd place for an Italian family, but her dad was a miner). 

I brought some sweets from a local bakery, and we had some tea as we talked and laughed and occasionally teared up about those we've lost.  For a small little lady, she was able to bully me into a wonderful grilled cheese and tomato sandwich...great comfort food.  Just before I was getting ready to go, she asked me if I wanted to "see" my uncle, and we went into the living room where his ashes are kept in a beautful urn.  Imagine living over 60 years with someone and then not having them around.  I remember how lost my brother was after losing my sister-in-law of 45 years.  My aunt and I talked about how men react differently to that type of thing, and how women may cope better than men. 

I'm glad my cousins keep an eye on Aunt Dot, and she is very fortunate to have them.  I feel grateful that we nieces and nephews have been allowed to share in Aunt Dot and Uncle Mike's love and stories.  My kids never knew my parents, but they got a sense of them by being around Aunt Dot and Uncle Mike (my Dad's baby brother), and that's precious to me.

Aunt Dot said that when they were making arrangements for Uncle Mike's remains, the funeral geek (my word...not hers) asked her if she wanted to be cremated, and she told him it wasn't something that...are you ready..."turned her on."  I want to grow to be Aunt Dot and Uncle Mike.

A Life Worth Mentioning

It seems to me that the creator made a HUGE mistake when divvying up life expectancy.  Why are dogs and cats given such a short time on earth and parrots given so much time on earth (no offense, but really).

We recently had to "put down" our oldest cat, Brookside, who was 16-1/2 years old.  She was the very first cat that we owned.  The kids and I actually got her from the county SPCA during a "woofathon" that they were holding in partnership with a local radio station.  Dad, who is allergic to cats, was on business trip when we met this cute little ball of orange and white fur.  When I pointed out to my daughter and son that Dad was allergic to cats (we already had a yellow lab at home), their reply was that there are drugs and shots he could take.

Right from the beginning, Brookside made it clear from the start that Rosie (our lab) was bound by the "law of the claw" which simply meant, no flipping Brookside or sniffing where it's not polite or your sweet lab nose will get hit with a full paw of nails.  Rosie caught on pretty quickly.  The antics of Brookside and Rosie were hysterical.  Watching the little kitten bully the larger lab was like a cartoon.  They would sleep together and tease each other -- to a point -- and were great pals.

Brookside was my daughter's companion, that is until said daughter went to college.  All of a sudden, I had a very determined, bigger ball of fur declaring her rights and placement desires in relation to where my husband and I slept in bed.   If I was not position just right, I would have the circulation in my arm interrupted as a nine-pound cat exerted 200-pound per square paw as she waited for me to adjust to her liking.  It was a fun and sleep-deprived game.

Over the years, we lost our lab, Rosie, our second female cat, Margarite (with whom Brookside had a love/hate relationship), and added two male cats (Buff--named because of his color and Jake--the younger one taking the role of the annoying brother).  All the cats, I might add, were either from a shelter (the girls) or just outside our door (another story).

With each loss, we have all cried and felt the guilt of not being able to fix our beloved pets.  Rosie, the lab, died from heart issues at 12 years old, Margarite, the other female cat, died of cancer at 12 years old about a year-and-a-half ago, and now Brookside with lymphoma.

What is the point of such a short life span for such loving little souls?  The last four nights, I've "slept" on the living room couch or floor watching Brookside to ensure that she was getting water and some food and was not in distress.  When a soul decides enough is enough, they stop eating, and Brookside hasn't eaten since middle-of-the-night Tuesday (and before that since Thursday).

My heart broke for this little cat who bossed me into a specific sleeping position so that she was comfortable to her liking and who bullied me out of my computer chair to the point that we had to get another chair -- both of which she used.  Unless you are an animal lover, you have no idea of the depth of love and loss that is involved with living with an animal and making a space in your life and heart for them.

I called my daughter yesterday, who was Brookside's first love, and she had to beg off the phone because she did not want to cry in the middle of NYC as she was walking to the subway.  

So it fell on my wonderful son and me to bring Brookside to the vet for the very last time.  It was the two of us who brought Margarite just a year-and-a-half earlier.  We felt like crap, but knew we were doing more good than bad because Brookside was not living, really.  She cried out as she stumbled out of her basket, and that was it.  I was not going to wait until the afternoon, she was ready and let me know it.

After the technician took Brook away, we were able to visit an older kitten, Gus, who we had brought to the vet's.  Gus is all black, with the exception of a small puff of white on his belly, and is a bundle of love and purring.  He had just been "fixed" the day before and was getting ready to be adopted.  Then we visited the four very young kittens who were hidden in our driveway wall and discovered as we were doing some landscaping.  They toddled over to the door of their cubby, yakking up a storm and tumbling over each other.  Between the two visits, we felt a bit better.  Nothing like the cartoon antics of young animals to make you smile.

So the household is adjusting.  The boys are a bit confused.  We have a lot of great memories of our Brookside and the rest.  Hopefully, the somewhere after the now has a place for them all.  It is a privilege to be part of an animal's life.

Cleanliness is Next to Not Being Grossed Out, Thank You!

OK...so how many times have you been in a rest room and have witnessed someone NOT washing their hands.  That is way up on my are-you-kidding-me-you-cannot-even-take-the-time-to-wash list of really (really!) nasty habits.  I revert to a six-year-old and make audible gagging noises at times when I've seen this...ewwwww.

And, the same goes for the gym.  Who hasn't seen the "Seinfeld" episode about the sweaty guy who doesn't clean off the machines after he's used them, right?  It doesn't take that much effort to get a clean paper towel, spritz it with the cleaning solution, and wipe the handles and seats, and backs and even the TV remote, does it...really?  The gym provides these things for a reason.  In the large-scale scheme of ewwwy things we touch and breathe throughout the day of being in public places, a little effort on everyone's part can diminish these moments a bit, don't you think?

Of course, on the other side are the people who feel that dousing themselves with perfume helps mask their body odors.  Pssssst...they don't, and can make it even worse, especially for those people who are sensitive to over-the-top fragrances.  I'm all for smelling clean; I wash and change into clean workout clothes every time I go to the gym, but I'm not pouring the Estee on...it can make your stomach lurch if you haven't eaten anything before the gym.  Is it better than body odor?  That's a Sofie's Choice kind of question in my mind.

Anyway, I just think people can learn to use common sense when hitting the rest rooms, gyms, and other public places without going overboard with sanitizers which experts say actually kill good bacteria and let the bad bacteria build up resistance.  It will be the tiniest things to emerge as the powerful...just check out War of the Worlds (and I don't mean the Tom Cruise one).

Bored to be Wild

Can I tell you something?  It's totally official...I am bored, bored, bored of being out of work.  There are just so many times one should see "America's Top Model" reruns, and God help me, Xanadu (which I watched again at 1 a.m. this morning since I could not sleep...since I could not shut my brain off of "you're-a-loser" mode again).

And, what is up (and I know I've mentioned this before) with companies who don't have the decency to let you know that you are out of the running...thank you very much!  There are programs are out there that a lot of them use to send you encouraging "congratulations, you've qualified for the next step" emails (including my former employer), AND "thank you for your application...while your qualifications are impressive...blah, blah, no thanks," but most of them do not go the extra mile to use that last one, and we're in this netherworld of hopefulness and hopelessness.  Just how many resumes and applications does it take to feel absolutely demoralized and questioning your own worth???  Ugh!

I have done the good sister stuff by accompanying my older brothers to their various medical procedures and hung out during and after surgery, I've gotten kittens and cats adopted, sent a congratulations to my brother and his "new" wife, I've made endless lunches for my husband and son to come home to...with dessert sometimes, helped at my husband's business...doesn't the universe recognize this? 

When An Dear Friend Bites

My friend and her family had to make the very hard decision to have their lab put down today.  He was all black and had the greatest of faces.  Unfortunately, in the last few years, he seemed to undergo what may have been neurological changes, and he would lash out to his family for no reason; last night resulted in six stiches for my friend's husband, and that was the last straw.

Unless you have had pets, you cannot feel that awful ache of a loss when they pass away.  People who never had pets or do not like animals think the rest of us are pretty strange for crying when we lose our dear friends.  I remember my mother would talk about our little Boston Terrier, Kippy, years after he died, and she would just tear up about it.  I get that.   Our pets' soul intertwine with ours and lift us up to a higher level of existence with regard to compassion and empathy.  They don't ask for anything but love, a scratch on the belly or around the ears, a warm, dry place to sleep -- preferably with us -- and the freedom to run around and bark or purr whenever they need to get our attention.  It's not really that much to ask, right?

I have another friend who studies a lot of material that's sort of new age, but it delves into spirituality and the possibilities beyond our earth-bound existence.  One of the things she read was when we pass on, the first souls to greet us will be our pets who will run through the crowd to seek us out.  That would be cool.  Whatever somewhere there is after the now, you have to believe that animals have a place in it too...just because their existence is no less important than ours in the scheme of things, right?

Is Love Wonderful the Second Time Around?

My just-70-year-old brother is getting married tomorrow...again.  His first marriage lasted 45 years, five months, and one day.  We had taken him and my sister-in-law out for their 45th wedding anniversary that June, and I told my sister-in-law that a statute should be erected in her honor for being married to my brother for sooooo long.  She chuckled...he grumbled.

How do I explain my feelings about this whole thing without sounding like a bitch...hmmmm...sorry...can't do it.  Why get married again?  Is there an unplanned pregnancy?  This is totally unlikely, his fiancee is 65 years old. 

Without going into the whole story, let's just say that my brother found himself alone for the first time in 46 years, and went nuts...spending money on crap that he did not need and probably did not want...but he had this big old hole in his heart and life, and he needed to fill it.  Let's see, here's a fast itemization of what he bought within the months following losing my sister-in-law:  two Yorkie puppies (adorable, but expensive and needy), a new fully loaded pickup truck, a new compact car, a set of those friggin'ly expensive cutco knives (I don't know how he fed himself prior to this...poor thing), a hot tub, and...drum roll...a camping trailer that has more stuff in it than some new houses.  These purchases were done in the space of only four or five months!  By the way, the puppies didn't last too long, they have found new homes and are thriving, thank goodness.

And, he' developed a two-year-old's lack of couth when it comes to blurting out inappropriate things about his relationship with the new woman in his life...TO HIS GROWN DAUGHTERS!!!  As the youngest in the family, I have tried to explain to him that the ewwwww factor of all of this is very upsetting, especially in light of the fact that he's rushed into the spending of money and the dating thingie so quickly.  But, he's in love (or heat), and headed down to North Carolina to get hitched by our 80-year-old cousin whose faculties I wouldn't trust. 

I loved my sister-in-law because of the person she was...she saw good in even the lowest of humans and was the type of person who brought calm to stressful situations.  She was very empathic, and would have empathy stomach cramps for you.  I know my brother loved her and she loved him, so it's very weird to see this whole "I'm in love" junk going on with this other woman.  Don't get me wrong, she seems like a decent sort, but I am having a hard time getting a reading from her...know what I mean?  There are basic, primal responses we have to people and situations...that so-called gut feeling that I believe has kept us (for the most part) from being someone or something's dinner selection.  But with this woman, I'm getting nothing...my spidey sense is coming up with nothing, and that nothing is making me wonder if there isn't "something" lurking beneath the makeup and leather pants (yes, I did say leather pants, and that she's 65 years old).

Well, anyway, it's not my business, and it's not his children's business either to a degree.  Whatever decisions he's made are his responsibility.  If this woman proves to be a good companion who truly loves and respects him, then he deserves that.  If she proves otherwise, I'm afraid of what it'll do to him.  In any case, we as his family will be there for him. 

The Sounds of Gunfire -- the Death of a Raccoon

OK...I must say that being home all these months has afforded me a view into my neighborhood that I have never had in the 30 years we've lived here...some of it pleasant, and some of it dark.

For instance, I was sitting here at my computer, contemplating vacuuming after going to the gym, and I heard two popping sounds.  Hmmmm...are kids hitting the stop sign with rocks again, or was that gunfire in our sweet little village.  I looked out, and sure enough, two village police cars were parked on the side street (we're on a corner), and two of our finest were looking into the woods along with one of my neighbors.  Dum-de-dum-dum...

I foster stray cats, and I know that there have been some raccoons hanging out at night to finish up whatever food is left over.  Fortunately, the cats know enough not to tangle with raccoons...they're meat eaters and vicious fighters...don't let those cute little faces and antics fool you.  Anyway, since the two policemen and my neighbor didn't seem all that nervous, and no guns were drawn, I did what every nosey older person does when hearing gunfire, I went out to see what was going on...my 25-year-old son was just so impressed by this...NOT!

Well, it was a raccoon who was out during the day, which is usually a sign that not all is well with the raccoon since they are nocturnal creatures, and was acting strangely (according to the policemen).  So they filled him full of lead...poor baby.  Once that was established, my neighbor and I wandered back to our respective houses...and I heard one more pop as I sat down at my computer.  Farewell, little soul. 

Don't I Know You From Kindergarten???

OK, so we went to the last event of the three-event weekend for my 40-year high school reunion.  I am telling you, it has to be the craziest thing to see someone you went to kindergarten with as an older person. 

I was a bit heartened to see that, like me, people have aged...and not everyone who was skinny in high school stayed skinny.  In fact, I was shocked by some transformations, but then, Life does have a way of biting you in the pants every so often, right?

I am very glad we went to the two events we did, and I am forever grateful to my husband that he put up with the squealing and kissing and reminiscing that each event brought.  We've never gone to any of his reunions, and I think it's different for men.  Unless they've kept in touch with each other, they don't tend to feel the same way about getting together with friends they haven't seen since their faces cleared up and their voices changed.  I have friends that I've known since elementary and junior high school who I am still in touch with, and I find it very sustaining for the soul.

One of the things that was nice about hanging out with people at the reunion events is that when you mention someone's name or a place in your town, there is recognition, and that's a comfortable and familiar feeling.

Anyway, the plan is to do the next one in five years  -- there was 20 years between this and the previous one.  At last night's more formal event, the group acknowledged the over 70 of our classmates who have passed on from the over 700 who graduated...talk about reality check!  Some of them passed away as teenagers or in their early twenties from cancer or war or accidents; others as recently as a couple of weeks ago.

I am very glad I went, and I will definitely go in five years as long as I'm still pumping air and taking nourishment (as my Mom would say).

High School Reunions -- Hello, My Name is ___________

I need to tell you that this weekend is the weekend of my (gulp!) 40-year high school reunion.   Can you imagine???

My friends and I (and our husbands by default) met up last night at the "ice breaker" at a restaurant by the Hudson, and I have to admit, I was a bit nervous about facing down 20 years of aging (our last reunion was 20 years ago), especially after reading through the "memorial" page of our yearbook that is now online (along with other years from our high school).

I was warmly greeted by women who I have not seen in 20 years as my husband and I were walking in, and, I have to tell you, it was really nice and surreal at the same time to see everyone.  Someone commented that the name tags -- with our senior year pictures -- should have not been written in script, given our age, since they were a bit difficult to read.  We found ourselves ogling everyone's breasts trying to read their names and match them to the older faces.  And, just think most everyone was the same age -- give or take a year or so one way or the other -- so we really had a study in heredity and possibly the wonders of cosmetic surgery. 

Fortunately, my friend and I agreed to have our husbands with us so that they could entertain themselves while we were oooohhhing and ahhhing and hugging and kissing our long-lost classmates, so they (our husbands) were fine.  I ran into people I have known since kindergarten, and because I went to four different elementary schools, I had friends from all over the town who either I met back up in junior high school or in high school.

The funniest thing is to hear about how many grandchildren people had...we have none...our adult children are not married which is totally okay with us, but our biological clocks are ticking too.

I think the saddest thing was how some people seemed to struggle to hold onto their high school images and personas as if the rest of us would be angry or disappointed with them.  I swear that one woman, a sweetie pie in high school and still to this day, must have a picture somewhere in an attic room taking all the hits for her because she looked so friggin' good last night, and I told her so...ha!

The five of us ended up at a local diner and watched as others from the reunion drifted in and out...chuckling at each other.  Tonight is the formal event, but none of us wanted to spend the money or do the dress-up thing, but we are going to the brunch tomorrow morning...daylight should reveal even more about each other, right?

Anyway, time does go by so quickly (sounds like a Righteous Brothers' song, doesn't it?), and I'm glad we were able to get together.  Let's see what tomorrow brings...

La Dolce Vita in Southampton, Via the LIE

After a great weekend celebrating my oldest niece's 25-year wedding anniversary to her husband who looks (and acts, I'm sorry to say) like the natives from the movie Deliverance, and also celebrating my brother's 70th birthday (both were surprises), my husband and I drove to Southampton on Monday afternoon.

My question is this...who the heck are all those people driving on the LIE in the middle of the friggin' day? Aside from us, why are the other people there? Traffic is always a pain getting down to my husband's brother and sister-in-law's place in Southampton, but it is so totally worth it. We stayed until Wednesday, and let me tell you that hanging out with them is a lot of fun. They have a beautiful -- and I am talking BEAUTIFUL -- estate in the village of Southampton just a short walk from the ocean (the famous Coopers Beach, actually).

My sister-in-law has a gift for gardens and theirs are something out of House and Garden (which, by the way, they were featured in several years ago). Of course, they have a staff to maintain the landscape and such, but she goes out every morning and early evening (before the blood-sucking mosquitoes) and prunes her beloved roses. She and her mom ("Nana" who has since passed) designed and nurtured the gardens, and it was from her mom that she learned to appreciate the caring of gardens. I wish I had that kind of soul, but I'm thinking that the fact my 37-year-old diffenbachia is still alive (if that plant could talk...wowowowow!) is a fairly good testimony to my greenish thumb, no?

Anyway, I don't care what the weather is like, hanging out down there is very fine with me. My husband's brother and his wife are generous and very cool to hang with, and so are their grown children and various pets. They lead a different life than we do (let's face it, an estate in Southampton, kids), but they are very welcoming to our family. We've had Thanksgiving there a lot, and the place just has good vibes (sound too new agey...sorry).

I wish we could have stayed longer, but we could not because I had a job interview yesterday morning that I am hoping will blossom into a job offer (note the plant reference).

So, keep your fingers and branches and vines crossed and think happy, growing thoughts.

Happy Birthday, Big Brother!

I just had lunch with my oldest brother who turns 70 today!!! We spent a nice hour or so together, and I got to treat him to his Gyro and coffee.

It's amazing to think of having a brother that age, but I'm glad I have him as a brother -- despite the vast differences between our views of the world. I'm not sure how we came from the same upbringing, but it could be a gender/generational thing. He's uber conservative, and I'm more of a liberal. We get into some very interesting discussions regarding the country, same-sex marriages...we do bait each other...it's good sibling fun.

Anyway, Happy Birthday, Tony! I wish you love and happiness, and I'm glad you are my big brother.

Love, Me

To Eat and Pray and Love...with Friends

A friend of mine that I've known since high school and I went to the movie, Eat Pray Love last night. She had won two tickets from a local radio station and invited me. It's the first time we've been out to a movie together in over 30 years (did I just say that?).

It was mostly women, of course, and the four or five men may or may not have felt out of place. The earlier movie that was still playing when we walked in was The Expendables with Sylvester Stallone...all action...explosions...gun shots...impaling...total oppositive of the chick flick.

Anyway, it was nice to hang out and eat a box of $2.50 of Milk Duds and watch Julia Roberts looking so, well, Julia Roberts. We even went to the diner afterwards and I didn't get home until after 11 p.m. This is big-time stuff...I rarely stay up that late, let alone out that late. It was a decent two-plus hours. I had read the book over the summer, and the movie more (or less) kept true to it.

I don't care which gender you are, would any of us like to be able to afford to take a year and travel like Liz Gilbert did? I would have passed on the India part and maybe even the Bali (as beautiful as it was) and hung out in Italy, since that's where my roots are. To fully immerse yourself into a culture and the language has to be one of the coolest things to do.

So that is two times this week I got to be with very positive women friends. Real people who love each other for who they are and not who they should be according to any standard or statistic or magazine quiz.

Go girl power!

Energy Conservation for the Soul?

Everyone has heard about "toxic" relationships, right? Let's face it, we've all been involved in them, and it ain't pretty. You know what I mean...these are the friends, partners, siblings, bosses, or even those voices in our own heads...who find the darkness of every situation and try to lure you into their rabbit hole of suckness.

At first, you don't realize what is happening because there is a bit of a rush as you delve into that negative energy (you later realize that's the sucking of your soul being pulled away from you) as you share them with each other. But then, you listen to yourself (and not any of those bad voices) as you and your noxious companion regale each other about the negative, and you stop. What a drag it is to be around this person...ewwwww. You say, "Gotta go," and you save yourself and your tattered soul before it's too late.

But the lightness of this situation are those people in your life who actually give us (not to sound all new agey) good energy. In fact, I think what happens is that good energy begats (great word, no?) good energy, and it seeks it out. Fortunately, there are those individuals who have such good juice in them that they can sort of help exorcise out the remnants of that toxic junk that may have been hanging out from a previous rush with darkness. But, as we all know, you gotta want it yourself.

Okay, so why I'm into this mumbo-jumbo energy stuff right now is because I hung out with some friends last night, and I feel a good kind of rush from it. We ate and laughed and shared, and it was way cool.

I think women are so much better at this than men, and this is just based on no scientific study, just my own experiences. Men -- no matter what their chronological age -- do not tend to share as much as women. And, even if they do, they immediately try to pull it back to them. But, as most people know, once it's out there, it's totally out there...like it or lump it, right? Don't you feel that by sharing something -- good or bad -- kind of does a soul good? In the case of good, you can lighten up someone's burden a bit; in the case of bad, you lighten up your own. It's a give-and-take kind of energy exchange that we're all involved with all the time whether we know it or not.

Of course, sometimes we cannot remove ourselves from the toxicity of a relationship because we are caught in a dependency issue -- I hate my boss, but I need to pay bills, he's heavy, and he's my brother -- that's when we have to really dig into ourselves to fight the darkness, right?

Long-Term is a Bad Term

So when you receive a form letter from the department of labor that says you've been identified as being "long-term unemployed," it really does a lot for your self-esteem. What's nice is that the department of labor shares employment websites, and some of them are fairly decent...except I'm still unemployed.

I am, frankly, tired of talking about trying to find a job, being unemployed, and the whole job-seeking experience. I need a break from this "break" I have been on since the beginning of the year. It truly is demoralizing, especially when I've been applying like mad back at my former employer (where, and I'm sure I've mentioned this before, the HR director told me to think of my time away from there as a "long vacation").

So, with all my experience at my former employer, my good performance reviews, and all, why have I not received any calls for interviews? Is it because I'm no spring chicken (as Mom used to say)? I did get a "you're in our pipeline for jobs" email from an HR specialist about a month ago. Now, is that a pipeline going into the company or exiting...as in waste???

Have you ever experienced the spurt of optimism when you've sent off your cover letter and resume to a potential employer? It's nice to feel like you've taken action to get yourself hired. "Ah, I did it, and it should be about two weeks before anyone hears back from them considering the amount of resumes they'll be getting...patience, right?" Yeah, right. Each Monday I feel like it's another opportunity to hear from a potential employer, and each Friday I hit that wall of reality...ugh!

Have a nice weekend...it is the weekend, right?

Taking a Chance on Me...

I figure that each Monday brings another opportunity for me to hear from prospective employers. After all, they are so busy reading through the stacks of online resumes and cover letters that they've received, and it'll take them a good amount of time to get to MINE, right?!

Then again, it's really just another opportunity for disappointment for me. How many times can I get a "congratulations, you've qualified to go onto the next step in your application process" email from my former employer only to never, ever hear from them again. The tally on applications to that former employer (remember, "think of it as a long vacation?") is now 15. So, really, when that HR person told me that I was still in "the pipeline," she didn't go on to say which pipeline that was, and I'm thinking it wasn't the fresh water one, if you get my drift.

This whole thing is manifesting itself into heart palpitations and cooking and baking "experiments" on my part that are not really as successful as one would hope. On the positive side, I'm catching a lot of crazy TV marathons, including the "Twilight Zone," and might I add that the 80s (or maybe it was the 90s) revival of the show was not a good thing, and that so goes beyond the fashions of the time.

Anyway, I'm going to the gym now. Yes, the gym. It's only $20 a month, and I think it's worth my walking/riding to keep my heart pumping in case any of those prospective employers calls...

Community

I try to get to the gym at least three-five days a week to do my 40-45 minutes on the treadmill and bike. Yeah, I know, I'm unemployed and how dare I still keep paying towards a gym membership. Cut me some slack, okay, it's only $20 a month. And besides, it gives me more alone time to have my imaginary conversations with the voices inside my head.

Anyway, as I was driving, I noticed that all of us had our same color garbage and recycle bins lined up in front of our houses like good little conformists that we are, and it actually gave me a sense of community of sorts. Every Tuesday evening, we all drag our garbage stuff to the curb for pickup sometime on Wednesday. Before the recycling truck rolls by, there's a guy on a bike who scours the recycle bins of all of us (we're his favorite, by the way) to gather up the cans and bottles from the soda and other drinks that can be redeemed for money. Hey, anything I can do for someone else's economic health, right?

Being home has afforded me views into the neighborhood that I would not have seen had I still be working. Our elderly neighbor across the street lost his sweet wife in January. Each day, weather permitting, I see him with his walker and aide (or daughter) doing laps on our street. He gets into a pretty good stride at times, and I'll catch him on my goings and comings occasionally. This is a man who would run through the neighborhood when we first moved here 30 years ago (and he was younger than we are now). His wife used to say that you could not keep him still for a second, and in his 80s, it's still the truth.

I think I've figured out the new(er) neighbors and their family (two girls and a boy), but it's been difficult because the teenage girls look so much like their mother who is superwoman when it comes to gardening.

The summer camp is across the street and it's nice to see the field used for activities with kids. When our kids were young and into baseball, there was a baseball field with a fence around it. Local businesses wanted to display their signs along the fence, and the older neighbors put up such a stink that the businesses were voted down. Not too long after that, it seemed that the field wasn't used as much by local town sports teams, and it was dismantled. I always liked seeing the field filled with kids and parents, it was loud and lively and nice to come home to from work, even with the additional cars parked in front of the house.

Now we're the older neighbors, but we're of a different generation, and that may be why we view the kids playing basketball and soccer across the street as a good thing, even if it goes on to 10 p.m. Of course, our house is not directly across from the basketball courts, but still, why hassle kids shooting hoops...maybe it keeps them from shooting themselves up with drugs or bullets...I'm just saying, right?

All this is good, but I need to return to the land of the employed. I have outstanding credit card balances that are choking me, and while I appreciate unemployment benefits, they do not come close to being enough to keep payments up on a timely basis.

Well, I have to feed our "community" of stray cats now.

The Voices in My Head...

Haven't you ever had conversations in your head with yourself or other people as you work on something that is bothering you? Yeah, me too...and I'm having way too many of these conversations lately.

I answer the phone and am greeted by an HR person from my former employer who apologizes profusely because they haven't been that responsive since my layoff from a job I really really liked, and they're calling to make up for it. The HR person also tells me that for the inconvenience, I am not only getting a firm job offer, but it includes a promotion and a salary increase that is better than 3%...isn't that great???!!!

Or, I'm talking to myself and reviewing the last two years of bad career decisions on my part and kicking myself for making them. "If only" is a bad place to be, let me tell you...it gets you nowhere fast.

Actually, I'm having less and less of these conversations because I suppose I'm realizing that there will be no phone calls from HR and that all these jobs that I have applied to will be filled by much younger candidates. Ageism is not a myth, kids.

In the meantime, I've been back to the dentist who let me know that while my jaw is no longer killing me because of TMJ (temporomandibular joint) issues, I am still grinding my teeth together, and I've caused movement and that's why I'm getting food particles stuck (which is a totally gross feeling, especially when you're dining out with witnesses to your efforts to dislodge the friggin' piece of bread, meat, whatever).

I don't need to have any so-called "expert" tell me why I'm grinding my teeth...we know why...don't we? All together...it's because I'm unemployed...auuuggghhh!

Too Young to Retire...Too Old to Hire

Yup...that's what my 30-something doctor had said to me when I told her about my job situation. She said that her husband had lost his job about six years ago, but that he was doing well as a stay-at-home dad (I did say she's a doctor, right?). She wondered if there would be a job for him when he returned to the job market in a few years. After all....he would be 45 years old. Hmmm...45 years old vs. 58 years old, yeah, I'm thinking he'll have better prospects than I do at this point.

I have applied to 13 positions in my old company and heard back (negative, of course) on only two. The rest have gone into a dark, uncaring, not-going-to-get-back-to-me void. Really, not even an email kiss-off???

You start to rethink yourself in terms of your self-esteem when you're involuntarily out of work. Maybe the jig is up, right? Maybe all these years of working and getting great reviews were fake years, and I've been found out!

I have a high school reunion in two months, and I'm loathe to speak of what I'm doing if I'm still not employed. Maybe I can fancy it up by saying I'm between jobs and weighing my employment options while continuing my education...but I'll not have enough money to afford to take another elective towards my degree completion, so that part is out.

Ugh...unemployment sucks.

When There's No Job in Sight on Job Sites

I cannot tell you how many job sites I have posted my resume to, but it's a lot, and I am constantly bombarded by the less-than-helpful hints from most of them. Let's face it, those sites are geared more towards the younger job seeker and not someone who has been working since dirt was invented, right?

I lost that loving feeling for being home a long time ago, and whatever shred of optimism I may have had in the beginning has entirely vaporized...especially in this crazy heat wave. I've answered over eight job postings from my former employer, and have gotten only one phone call from HR when they politely told me that golly, you'd be so surprised of all the people who have applied to this posting who have actually done this exact job...yeah, right. In other words, don't call us, and we're likely never to call you. So much for the "think of it as a long vacation" crap that the HR director gave me before I left.

I am not a stay-at-home person...I need to work for the money, but also for me...this is a big part of who I am, and not contributing to the household finances is not real cool at all. I don't care that much for shiny floors and dusted furniture, although my house is way more organized than it's been in a long time.

Puhleeze, someone hire me and not to bring your pets to the vets!!! Aaauuuugggghhh!!!

Somewhere After the Now

We lost a very precious man over the weekend, Uncle Mike. Uncle Mike is my Dad's baby brother, and the last of five brothers from a family of nine siblings. He was the most adorable kind man, and he will be missed terribly.

Uncle Mike had been diagnosed with prostate cancer years ago, and typical treatment is a "wait-and-watch" approach, especially in elderly men, because prostate cancer is a slow-growing cancer. Unfortunately, the cancer invaded Uncle Mike's bladder, and a couple of years ago had to undergo the removal of the prostate and bladder which meant he had to wear a bag. This was so hard for him because Uncle Mike was always, always, always an active man who loved to hunt and fish and tinker in his "shop" in the garage. He and Aunt Dot would have been married 62 years on July 4th, and when I last spoke to him on Father's Day, he sounded really great. What we didn't know was that his lungs were apparently filling up with fluid and his body was starting to shut down his kidneys...he was 88 years old.

I am grateful that my cousins "shared" Uncle Mike and Aunt Dot with the rest of us who had lost our parents. I realized that my memories with Uncle Mike and Aunt Dot are longer in time than with my parents who never got to see my two kids. My kids are very saddened by the loss because they love Uncle Mike and Aunt Dot and always enjoyed talking with them, especially about the old days.

If there is truly a somewhere after the now, then I hope that Uncle Mike has a joyous reunion with my parents and his other siblings and parents and friends. I cannot imagine otherwise for such a wonderful soul. Love you, Uncle Mike.

Pets and Plants

So, I went on a job interview Friday evening. The reason I went at that late time was to ensure that the person already in the role would not see me...sly, eh? It wasn't my idea, but what the heck, right?

The job was in biotechnology CEO's house about 30 miles north of where I live now in the upscale, and uphills of the northern part of our county. So, just for the fun of it, I dragged my son with me to do a "dry run" of the route the day before my meeting...such a good idea. The majority of the trip was fine, mostly on paved, main roads that had a lot of hills, but did I mention that they were paved MAIN roads?

We found the turn-off road (after a couple of missed times), read the "cattle crossing" sign and the "one lane road" sign and headed up the mountainous dirt road. It's a very good thing I had an AWD vehicle...it was an awful experience until we found the road (paved) where the CEO's house was located. As we made our way DOWN the mountain on the other side of the one-lane, dirt, cattle-crossing road, we encountered a rather large pickup truck towing a trailer with a mower on the back. I squeezed as close to the right side of the "road" as I could, and decided then and there, this job was so not worth it.

When my son and I got home and explained the trip to my husband, he suggested that perhaps there was another way to get to the good CEO's paved road, so we whipped out a county map and lo and behold, there was! So I figured, why not go for the meeting...what am I doing anyway, right? I leave myself an hour to do the 30-mile drive just in case I'm looking at another unpaved mountainous route. The new access road was about 2.5 miles north past the original one, and it was paved, although not clearly marked, so I missed it on the first pass. It was a lot easier to get to the CEO's paved road, but it was a long road and had a lot of ups and downs, past beautiful fields. I turn into the driveway and am greeted by a huge poodle who felt the need to stay extremely close to the car as I was parking it (kill the owner's dog...good for a first impression, no?). As I turned to look for the huge poodle, there he was, anxiously waiting for me to leave the car, with his paws on my driver's side window...sooo cute!

Fortunately, I love dogs, so it wasn't too bad, and when I met the little Scottie who was airborne with excitement, I thought, "hmmm...the guy has pets...good sign." I went up to the open front door and knocked as the dogs did laps in and out of the house. Wafting out of the house was heat and a smell I can only compare to a closed up museum...we're talking about 40 years of being closed up. The CEO motions for me to come in as he's talking on the phone, and I enter a HUGE great room (or is it a GREAT huge room) where there is a bison head over the massive fireplace and museum quality stagnant air and furniture. I believe there were other stuffed animals, but the heat and the smell was very distracting.

As the CEO, dressed in shorts and a polo shirt (that's Ralph Lauren's Polo brand polo), greeted me, I saw a 70-ish pleasant-looking man who apologized profusely because he would only have about 15-20 minutes to talk to me on account of the dinner party he was hosting at his home like soon. We walked out to a beautiful patio with a cool cat, flowers and other plantings and so many bees and wasps buzzing about...I hate bees and wasps, and he launched into his questioning of my skills including how fast did I type. Fast??? I told him I've been typing since dirt was invented, and had no way of knowing. He did a quick look at my resume, and asked me a bit more about my experience...rushing me through my answers, by the way, and then I asked him why was he seeking to replace the person who currently had the role. He went on that she was very nice and he liked her, but she was young and inexperienced in the ways of a professional office, and she did not understand what the word "privvy" meant or what "shuttle" meant when he asked her to look into a NY-to-Boston shuttle. I defended her inexperience and said that she needs experience to be experienced, but for him, he did not have the patience to be that guy, know what I mean?

Then came the $64 question from him, how much did I want to make in the job...and I went to the high end of the salary scale that was posted because I felt with my experience and with the trip, that would be fair. That's when he told me that they were on "thin ice" with regard to funding, and that they would only be able to pay $20,000 less than that top figure for now...with no other benefits like medical insurance, etc. Right.

So then I asked him what were his expectations in terms of the person in the role, and he went through the usual junk which was fine (I had already figured, "no way, Bub") until he added that the person would be expected to water all his plants and...wait for it...take his pets to the vet's for their checkups...huh? I said, are you kidding? He never really answered THAT question. As the meeting came to a close, he apologized again for the hurried push, but that he would definitely call me because he'd like to talk more and show me the offices, etc.

Bottom line for me: I take care of ONE household's pets...my own...and so I'm breaking up with him before we get too serious...am I right? Even if he paid me the full friggin' salary and threw in all the insurance benefits, I wouldn't do it, especially after having to drive by way of the Big Rock Candy Mountain.

So, my search goes on...gawd!

May I Have My Life Back?

I have officially been out of work for six months. I had a great severance package for most of that time. Now, though, I am at the mercy of job posting websites, referrals, and submitting my weekly unemployment claims. I am in hell.

Don't get me wrong, this time off has allowed me to hang out with my older brothers who have had some serious and not-so-serious medical procedures, the most recent of which was last week. My oldest brother had arterial surgery in his leg to try to bypass the hardening of the arteries that comes to those who smoke(d) too much and is also a by-product of diabetes...he fits both of these categories. Basically, your arteries turn to rock and die and you are in danger of amputation. In his case, both legs were somewhat salvageable, and tomorrow is his week follow-up visit for the second surgery. He has a tendency to be rude when he should be saying "thank you" to folks helping him, and I've called him on it several times reminding him that I am not one of his kids, nor a girlfriend or wife (and they shouldn't be the target of his immaturity either).

I love my brothers, as weird as all three of them are for various reasons -- mostly to do with their blind adherence to their religions...pretty annoying stuff. All three of them were with the Jehovah's Witnesses (the two younger ones followed the oldest one) which caused all kinds of trouble within their families. A lot of time was wasted, as is the case with most fundamental religions, and the oldest one disassociated himself about 10 years ago which essentially means -- according to the Witnesses -- that the other two can no longer speak to him. Do you think God really supports this junk?

I am the Switzerland in the family; I do not follow ANY religion, so I can hang with any of them. I consider myself a recovered Catholic (we were raised Catholics...more or less) who told the priest presiding over my cousin's wedding that I was not going to confess anything to him, so let's not waste either of our times...I was 19 and didn't even French kiss let alone anything warranting spilling my guts to someone whose business it was NOT. So neither of my kids have been baptized or anything else to do with religion. They can make their own decisions. We did not bring them up to follow anything religious, but I have told them that I do have a belief in God and guardian angels (who else kept me from killing myself or others in the 70s behind the wheel after a night of drinking and dancing, right?).

Tomorrow I will drive to my brother's house with one of our larger vehicles, load him in the back so he can position his boo-boo leg on the front middle console, and drive him back to my neck of the woods to see his doctor...should be something out of Driving Miss Daisy, only NOT.

I'm glad I can be of help to my brothers, but I really need to get back to work, God,. I received a call from my former employer's staffing team who was reviewing my most recent application for re-employment. I know the young woman who called me to let me know that a lot of people who actually had the same type of position and did the same type of work in their current or former jobs had applied for the role...blah, blah, blah. I was totally kissed off by them. It was respectful that she called me since we do know each other, and she is a sweetheart, but it doesn't make me feel any better...I am POd. If you think ageism is not alive and well, try being over 55 and looking for work...HA!

I find myself envying people in movies and commercials who are sitting in office cubicles. I want to be back in my own cubicle and part of a team and a company. I don't need to make mega-bucks, just something that gives us benefits without costing my first-born male child (who is 25 now and not likely to go quietly, and did you notice that I got a biblical reference in there???).

Are You Sure Today is Wednesday?

So my friend reminded me that today is Wednesday. You know, when you're not in a really structured existence -- like EMPLOYMENT -- days tend lose meaning except when you're into a TV show's schedule. And, even that is okay until the season finale. "Chuck," "NCIS," and the like have all had their season finales, so it's reruns or crazy summer filler shows.

Oh, and I received a "thanks-but-no-thanks-someone-with-a-better-fit-of-skills-got-the-job" letter from a place I was hoping to join. Just before I got the letter, I actually applied for another job in the same organization at the same company..."what could she be thinking?" they're saying to themselves.

Can we just talk about the humiliation that comes with signing up for COBRA medical coverage, shall we? First of all, getting the sign-up package was painful, and then being told that when you go to your doctor(s) you need to tell them you're covered by COBRA, just adds to the whole experience. (Um, yes, I am that kind of loser, M'am, thank you.) And the package...I just received the fourth enrollment package (we are already signed up) on the same day that we received our new medical and prescription cards.

Have I mentioned that I hate being unemployed???!!!

Can We Ever Say "When" to War?

As my husband, son, and I drove up to the diner today, the usual groups were stationed at their usual spots with their usual signs and flags. Heading north, there are the folks who shout their support for the troops and America with their flags and military gear. Heading south, there are the folks who also support the troops and America, but theirs is a voice of withdrawal from the war rather than continuing it. They have American flags, but among them are ones with the word Peace and one with a dove.

You might think that these people represent the extreme right or left viewpoints in this country, but I don't think either side is that extreme. I believe they both love and respect this country, and support the troops; they're just communicating differently. I'm all about supporting our troops -- many of whom are much younger than my own children -- but I want them all home safe and sound. Also, once they get home, I think we could do more for them to show that their volunteer enlistment is appreciated and acknowledge that they have seen stuff of nightmares in their postings overseas in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Many of our soldiers volunteered because they believed that they could make a difference, and they have with their efforts to rebuild schools and to reach out to those citizens whose lives were shattered by bombs and the killings around them. Unfortunately, a lot of them have joined the service because the U.S. economy is so bad that the incentives offered by the services (sign-on bonuses, college education, pension) are too good to pass up. I don't mean to get on a soap box, but how effective is our going into a centuries-old culture ever going to be...we cannot bomb our own culture into their lives...this has been proven time and time again.

If you go onto CNN's website, they have the statistics of how many of our soldiers have been killed in the years since Bush sent them, where they were killed, but more importantly, where they are from in terms of the United States. As you watch the maps populate with the dots representing cities and towns, you realize that we have lost so much. For whatever reason, as a species, we have a crazy notion that if we count and graph everything we do, from SATs to war casualties, it gives us a better sense somehow of control and progress, and maybe an acknowledgement of our existence in the space-time continuum.

Season Finales

So we watched the season finale of "Chuck" tonight, and I must say, I'm feeling as if my own sitcom/drama/reality show has been canceled.

Don't get the wrong idea, while I like "Chuck" a lot, my feelings have nothing to do with the show...it just seemed so fitting that at this time of year when shows are wrapping up their plot lines or creating new ones via the proverbial cliff hanger, my own plot line has stalled. A job that I had hoped for appears to have been filled. I understand that HR groups are probably getting really hit with a lot of resumes, but I miss the courtesy of a "thanks, but no thanks" letter or phone call. I'm thinking it's filled because it no longer appears on the company's website. I guess I could fool myself into thinking it was just a timing down for the posting, but I'm thinking...NOT!

I really, really, really need to get back to work...financially and personally. The thrill of being able to stay up late wore off a really long time ago, and I need to get back into a grownup guise again. That's not a slam against anyone who is taking care of a household and does not also have an outside-the-house job...this is me I'm talking about.

It's not even as if I'm getting any more or better sleep 'cause when I do sleep, I dream about various incarnations of work...sometimes mixing distant past jobs with the just-left job...help!

When COBRA Slithers Its Way Into Your Life

After reviewing all the health package options offered by the company I retired from 10 years ago, along with other "outside" options, my husband and I are giving in...we're signing up for the COBRA package that is automatically sent from the company I just left. I appreciate having it, but I sure would have liked to NOT have to use it.

I have gotten to the point that I'm envying people in commercials who are sitting in cubicles. I want to be back at a job, at a desk, cubicle, office...SOMEWHERE!!! Enough with the vacuuming and dusting and cooking...I need to find my place back in the workforce...STAT!

It actually dawned on me that at this time of year, employers may be waiting for college graduates to apply. After all, it would be a lot less expensive to hire a newbie from the graduating class than someone who has had the experience and has salary history expectations, right?

It used to be that when you applied for a job, you at least received a letter or phone call to tell you that while your skills and experience are very impressive, they chose another candidate. These days, you may get that via email, but most likely just experience silence. Are HR departments really that busy that they cannot offer the simple courtesy of breaking up with you before anything gets serious?

Anyway, I signed up for one of my outstanding electives (3) to complete my B.S. degree. I had some funds saved, and my husband encouraged me to do it. I'll be taking "Readings in Journalism" online this sumemr, and looking forward to getting back into the online discussions with fellow students. I'm just hoping that by the time this 10-week course is complete, I have a job 'cause I'm so over being in this transitional place.

Employment, can you see me? Employment, can you hear me? Employment, are you somewhere in the realm of possibility? Can you hear me praying, anything I'm saying, even though I'm only one of millions?

(I so apologize to Barbra Streisand for the above.)

Mother's Day

Our daughter could not make it home for Mother's Day this year because of work commitments. She did, however, send me two types of flowers -- the traditional ones in a vase, and the online ones that actually speak to you...absolutely hysterical and creepy. I, in turn, sent the online one to some of my friends.

My husband made delicious French toast with Challah bread (yummmm) dipped in Egg Beaters, but with real bacon (there is a balance of sorts there). He and our son gave me a dish garden in a tea pot (I'm a tea totaler...or is it tottaler or even totaller?), and scads of cards. My family knows that I love and will keep forever all cards. Listen, I cannot tell you how many times I have found money in cards for my son who was about ready to toss the said cards. Besides, the cards are a sort of history, brought to you via Hallmark or American Greetings, that you can touch anytime you open the huge plastic bin in the basement filled with them.

I had sent cards to my brother's daughters who had lost their mom a year and a half ago (I sent them cards last year), and they all called to say thanks. They are great women, and my sister-in-law was proud of them. I sent my 88-year-old aunt a card (we always do), and she called to say how nice it is that we always think of her. I always tell her and my uncle (my Dad's baby brother) that I would like to grow to be like them. They are so adorable and precious.

I can't say that Mother's Day makes me miss my Mom more than usual. She and my Dad have been gone almost 29 years, and there are random times that I feel the loss of her and Dad more than others -- almost a physical reaction even after all these years. I know my nieces miss their mother a lot and in their own ways.

I wish everyone a wonderful Mother's Day today and always. And to those mothers who are struggling to find their way with their kids, or have suffered losses of children, I wish you peace and quiet within your soul and love to heal.

Does This Hair Color Make Me Look Fat?

Well, I colored my hair today. I want to make sure that in case I get any calls for interviews, I don't look like I color my hair because of growing-out roots. Let me give you a visual of the whole process. While the package says it's just 10 minutes, we know that they lie like rugs. Here's my own process...take notes:

1. Step One: Remove all light-colored clothing, towels, rugs, decorations, etc., from the area where the hair color will be applied.
2. Step Two: Make sure that the door to the bathroom is secure since you'll probably be standing there with no top on to avoid having to remove it prior to rinsing off the color.
3. Step Three: Do not invite any other person into the bathroom. This avoids comments, suggestions, and possible relationship damage (emotionally, mentally, and physically if the laughing and comments get out of hand).
4. Step Four: Ensure you have a good clock to time the process and good light to see what you're doing to your hair and your ears and your face and your shoulders and the sink and whatever else comes in contact with the semi-permanent color #28.
5. Step Five: Wear the gloves that come with the kit during the color application. Try not to touch anything while you're doing the color application except for your hair.
6. Step Six: Ten minutes after the color has been on your hair, you may think your hair will be fine, but believe me, those gray hairs are extremely resistant to color, and you are in for at least another 10, baby, including your eyebrows. You'll find your sweet spot for timing the color yourself.
7. Step Seven: It's time to rinse the color solution out of your hair without getting it in your eyes or all over the bathroom and shower and shower curtain. My chosen method is to simply step in the shower, wipe the color solution from my eyebrows first (and kissing THAT washcloth goodbye), and then tightly closing my eyes again and rinsing the hell out of my hair before putting on the conditioner that comes with the haircolor. And, those gloves they give you to wear while applying the color...yeh...I take them off before the shower, and my hands never get stained...see below.

In theory, of course, all should be well when you step out of the shower, but for me, I look like a goth Groucho Marx because the color has spread to my forehead, and hairline, neck, and let's not forget those eyebrows. No matter how neatly I apply (even though it tells you NEVER to do so) the solution to my eyebrows, I end up with about a quarter inch of color around the brow that along with the color along my hairline on my face makes it virtually impossible for me to leave my house for a full day until I can wash my hair with real shampoo.

I'd say that by Day 2 (two days AFTER the color has been applied), my hair begins to look better. I used to get low lights which were pretty expensive (it's the opposite of highlights because it's actually putting your color onto your hair)...this costs me $8.99 per shot which last about three or four weeks. I wash my hair every day, so the 28-day effectiveness is really tested -- it doesn't last 28 days.

I kind of miss having the professional stuff done because it was a good opportunity for me to read all the trashy magazines they have, but I sure don't miss plunking down the extra money. And, besides, I would end up with color freckles on my scalp when it was done professionally. Yup, color freckles. They would vary in size from small specks to quarter-sized spots that would eventually wash (or rub) out...really attractive. Anyway, I have to try to scrub some of the color from my neck and check for spots in the bathroom.

When Fear Gets in the Way

I'm into a serious job search, and I've set up skill set alerts on several of the job websites. Occasionally, the so-called matches are pretty funny...like the ones I get for junior scientist or financial planner...not sure how they're being keyed off of my profile.

Anyway, I have gotten a few that have come really close to what I have always seen myself doing, but truthfully, I'm a bit hesitant to pursue them. Why??? Fear of failure, I'm guessing. I have worked so hard for so long with one clear goal in mind in terms of job fit, and I find myself second guessing my ability to do the job...even though I've done a form of it in the past. What is wrong with me? Why the self-doubt?

For one thing, at this point of my life, I am not really looking for a high-pressure, teeth-grinding (all the time, occasionally okay), no-sleep job. I want to be happy (and we're not talking deliriously, but happy enough to want to go to the job), want to bring value to the job and the place I'm working at, work with others who feel generally the same and who are not crazy ('cause I've worked with crazy, and it ain't nice at all), and make decent money while having a life outside of work. If there are some late nights or early mornings, or even a weekend, I can deal with that...I just do not want to be in the cross-hairs all the time. A certain amount of tension keeps you alert, but then just a bit more can put you over the edge, depending on what you're doing and who you're working for...am I right?

So, do I go for the higher profile job(s), take the mundane one of essentially babysitting another person's life, or is it possible anymore to find that happy medium (again) that is a balance of light and dark?

Ugh...unemployment stinks.

So When Do You Say "When" to a Blog?

What does it mean when your blog is never read or commented on? It is a case of lack of publicity or simply a bad blog?

I've told some of my friends about my blog, and I've gotten the polite, "You're such a funny writer, etc.," but no one has added comments. I have only one so-called follower, and it's a loyal relative of mine. I'm a failure as a blogger...woe is me (or should I say "whoa?").

Different topic all together...have you ever looked at the skin on your face as you are looking down? I remember a Golden Girls episode when Blanche talked about the pros and cons of being on your back with your lover: the skin on your face smooths out, and you look much younger, but then gravity makes your breasts fall to either side of your chest. And, if you are the one above the other, your breasts are in full bloom, but the skin on your face has sagged to the center...neither of which are pretty pictures. The reason I'm talking about this is because I was doing some eyebrow tweezing in my living room -- it has good light in there, much like the makeup light in the car -- and I realized that what passed for a decent face in the bathroom light and mirror looked pudding-like and just plain bad looking down into that makeup mirror I had propped up on my coffee table.

Anyway, it was just a thought I figured I'd pass on to cyberspace.

When It Really Hits the Fan (Or You Step in It)

I have been unemployed since January of this year (2010). Initially, it was a shock, but I had a very generous severance package that helped, so sitting home during those awful snow storms wasn't so bad.

I don't have my severance package anymore, and therefore, no benefits package either. So I called the other Fortune 500 company that I worked for and retired from to sign back up to their benefits program. Okay, can we say holy friggin' sticker shock?!!! For the first time in my entire life, I am without benefits. I have always been the one providing benefits for the family, so to be without benefits is just plain embarrassing and very scary. Even though it's just my husband and me now, the best package (and "best" meaning the most coverage and no in- and out-of-network crap) will cost me -- as a retiree no less -- $1,200 a month! I actually said to the benefits representative "Holy Piss." She laughed, but it didn't do me any friggin' good to know that my husband and I, who have a large wicker basket of the myriad of meds we take to lower our blood pressure, cholesterol, and make my GERD stop rumbling like that volcano in Iceland, are poo out of luck until the package from my most recent Fortune 500 employer arrives for COBRA coverage (which, by the way. is close to half of the one offered by the first company).

I am ashamed (just a bit) that I do not know the ins and outs of the whole Obama health care plan, but is there something in it to fix this type of situation? So, I can choose the overpriced benefits plan and pay it, but that means that our mortgage won't get paid (along w/the taxes attached) which is not a good thing.

Let's stop here for a moment and think about it, shall we? Hmmmm...still not feeling any relief to the pains in my stomach.

How Do I Know When It's Time to Reinvent Myself?

I'm sorry, but I have just about had it with all the articles about people reinventing themselves. How does one know when it's time to reinvent one's self, and how the hell does one go about it?

If I were to reinvent myself, I'd sure as heck put myself in a better body than the one I'm in right now...say my 22-year-old body would be a good start. Now that was a great body! I am unemployed, and I want to stop being unemployed, but if companies are not willing to pay more than a weekly unemployment check, then there is something drastically wrong with the system. I mean, really? If I was 22 years old and did not have the history of life's expenditures tied to me, maybe I would be more receptive to the just-above-minimum wage salaries out there, but I am not.

When I consider this whole reinvention thing, I try to picture myself doing something entirely different from what I've done most of my career -- give or take a bit of what may be considered reinvention along the way -- and I come up with nothing. For the most part, I actually liked doing what I've mostly done.

Anyway, I in an off mood, and I am about ready to run away from home. I'll be fine when the chocolate kicks into my not-22-years-old-any-more body.

Are Job Fairs...Fair?

So I went to a job fair up at the local community college yesterday. I pretty much dressed as I would for work, and printed out 10 copies of my resume on nice paper stock. I've been to other job fairs and was totally not impressed, but I figured, what the heck.

Of course, the parking lot was full that was near the gymnasium. That meant we had to park at the lot that was across the street and down the hill from the campus. Thinking that there was only badge-card access for the building that had elevators (there wasn't...found that after summiting Mt. Kilimanjaro), I tackled the mountain of steps to the main walkway on the campus. Let me tell you right now, it is a good thing that I do my 40 minutes at the gym on the treadmill and the bike each morning because this babe was sucking air pretty badly when I got to the top. I sat on a bench with another "woman of a certain age" and we kept encouraging each other to breathe. Oh, and did I mention the sweating???

When I got into the gym, the amount of people and the variety of people in terms of age, gender, and types of dress was overwhelming. There were mostly health care places looking for RNs or aides, and radio stations (mostly rock) looking for account executives. I actually left my hard copy resume with one of the colleges, and listened as the other companies that I was interested in encourage everyone to register on their websites. Oh, and did I mention the sweating???

What a bust. I am so nervous about trying to keep up with my bills and stressed to the max. I am having dreams that I'm back at my former employer, but I know there is no chance of that at this point. There is no market out there for people who have been in the job market for 30-40 years...evidenced by the older men who were asking a lot of questions about becoming linemen for the local utility company. The sweet young thing answering their questions probably could not imagine any of them hanging off of a utility pole to do work (I think they were even older than me, if you can believe it).

Ugh, I keep kicking myself for leaving the IT organization two years ago to pursue what I thought was a great opportunity. Why did I let myself be talked into that friggin' job by the then-VP??? Aauuuugggghhhh!

That is absolutely the last job fair I'm going to...so unproductive.

When Visiting Cemeteries...Bring a Rock or Flowers

We used to live down the street from a cemetery with the ornate crosses and statues, and we would stand in the street and look at the gravestones and imagine that Christ was climbing down from the cross and making his way to us. Of course, during this time (late 1950s), we also thought our shoulder blades were really where our wings would sprout when we died and became angels. You'll have to cut us some slack, it was the time of Eisenhower in the White House and being outside playing trumped anything that was on television at that time. We had skate keys around our neck, and the girl up the street and I would play "Lost on an Island" using an old blanket on the summer sun-warmed sidewalk. We would imagine a lot of things on that island. We also played "The Mummy" no doubt encouraged by that cemetery and the movies that we would watch on Million Dollar Movie.

My parents, especially our mother, would bring us to the cemetery where her parents and other relatives on both sides were buried. It was a big pain and I just did not understand why we would go there to stand on the ground above dead people. Of course, we would be surrounded by the ornateness of the cemetery with its crosses and statues and the like...just plain creepy.

I have always believed that I would be cremated and spread out over the Atlantic Ocean somewhere. I definitely do not want any religious junk, just a party to celebrate the people I loved and the life they gave me and we gave each other. No wake at a funeral home for me with people milling around, no sir. Use that money to have a buffet and when the food runs out, so be it. It'll be the wedding reception I didn't have when I got married.

But something has occurred that has me rethinking the whole cremation thing. Since he was able to drive, my now-adult son has gone up to the Jewish cemetery to visit his grandparents and great grandparents' graves (on his Dad's side). He places a rock on each of the headstones and just hangs out with them. The only person he ever knew was his grandfather and only for six years. And you know what, he finds a comfort there among the plain, but descriptive headstones. I have no qualms visiting there myself -- a Jewish cemetery is really a lot different from a Catholic one...no spooky statues or crosses or cherubs. By the way, both of my parents were cremated, and my brothers and I walked into the woods a year after they died to spread their ashes around my father's tree stand he used for deer hunting. We waited a year because I was pregnant with my daughter when we lost our parents. I am sure my mother was saying something like, "You sonofabitch, all the time you spent in these woods, and now I'm here too?!"

We visited the Jewish cemetery just recently and placed rocks on my husband and children's relatives. My son and I went the next day to the Catholic cemetery where my sister-in-law is (right next to her parents). My brother picked out a very beautiful black marble headstone with a couple on a bench etched into it...no crosses or statues. The creepy factor is still there, however, because my brother's name is also etched into it.

After we got home, my son informed me that he would prefer I didn't get cremated and spread in the ocean or wherever and that he would like me someplace where he could visit once and awhile. I'm guessing the whole urn in the living room to be introduced to the sluts my husband will no doubt start dating after my passing is also out of the question. So now, my husband and I have started talking about what we're going to do. Neither of us, but especially me, will be able to go into the Jewish cemetery. And, there is no way in hell that I'd be buried in a Catholic cemetery (even if it's okay). You think that there has to be a non-denominational cemetery somewhere, right?

Well, it's something to ponder as my brother cleans out his house and prepares to move to North Carolina with his fiancee (which is a story unto itself, let me tell you).