Friday Already?

Oh my, it's Friday already!

Most weeks I am saying Hallellulah! It's Friday! but this week it snuck up on me mainly because I got home from vacation on Wednesday and was only on the office for two days this week. It was just enough time for me to realize how far behind I am on some things. My to-do list and desk at home is no better; it's stacked with things that need my attention too.

I would like to go to the library and spend some time working on my book this weekend.

I would like to finish (actually start) the piece for my writing circle that meets next Saturday.

I would like to spend an hour or so curled up with a book I want to finish.

I would like to try out a new recipe.

I would like to spend time in the yard and get my winter flowers planted.

I would like to update my website.

I would like.....

The list goes on and on. Some things will get done and others will have to wait - it's just the reality that I have so many things I want to do and not enough time to do them all.

I hope that everyone reading this has a wonderful autumn weekend filled with must-do's and a splash of want-to-do's!

Tell me, what's on your list for this weekend?



P.S. I do want to tell you all about the new look for Story Circle Network's Telling Herstories blog. It's jam-packed with all sorts of useful information about lifewriting.

Pretend I'm Dead

It’s a pleasant morning, almost noon, and the Wife is outside, enjoying the sunshine, and deadheading her flowers. Her Husband moseys over to where she is kneeling next to the flower bed.

Husband: I’m hungry, what is for lunch?

Wife (sighing): Can’t you see I’m busy right now. Why don’t you pretend I’m dead and you have to make lunch today?

The Husband moseys on toward the house, presumably, to make some lunch.

A short while later, the Husband, munching on a sandwich and carrying a newspaper, comes out of the house and sits down in a lawn chair.

Wife (calling to him): Hey, where’s my sandwich?

Husband (sly smirk on his face): I thought you were dead.

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This little vignette appeared in a comic in the Sunday paper a few years ago. Gerry and I were sitting in bed, enjoying our coffee and the paper, when he saw it and shared it with me. We shared a laugh together over this little joke that the husband played on his wife and since then we have made it our own, in the way that husbands and wife create for themselves a unique way of communicating with each other.

I’ll send him an email at work some afternoons that says "P.I.D. until 6:30". (P.I.D. being an abbreviation for "pretend I’m dead".) The concise email communication means “I want to work on my book after work so I’ll be upstairs in my office until 6:30”.

Or he’ll send me an email at work on Friday afternoon that says "P.I.D. tomorrow morning". I take that to mean that he has booked a tee time and he’ll be out golfing with the guys on Saturday morning. (Which means I’ll have more time to work on my book!)

I love the intimacy that comes with being married for any length of time like the way I can look him from across a room and know what he is thinking, or the way that he understands what I am trying to say when the words just won’t come to mind. (Remember that guy we met at the thing we went to that time?)

And I like the special language that develops over the years that includes things like P.I.D. that no one understand except us.

Accident

It started out as an ordinary morning. My car had to go in for routine maintenance so Gerry followed me to the dealership where I planned to leave my car and ride with him to my office. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, and it appeared to be shaping up to be a beautiful summer day. We had decided to take the dogs with us, so Maya rode with Gerry and Chelsea rode with me.

When we arrived at the dealership, Gerry went into the office to drop off the key, and I gathered my purse, tote bag, and little Chelsea and began walking toward Gerry's car. Suddenly, the morning calm was pierced by a squeal of tires and I saw a white pick-up truck careening over a meridian on two wheels. New cars on the dealership lot prevented me from seeing exactly what had happened.

A split-second later I heard a woman's voice screaming from the direction where I had seen the truck go over the meridian, and at the same moment the truck, travelling on rims only and throwing off sparks along the way, bounced up onto the sidewalk in front of me.

He's stopping to go back and help the accident victim, I thought.

But I was wrong. Somehow, the battered vehicle kept going leaving a sparky trail behind it. I watched as it picked up speed and drove out of my line of sight.

I turned my attention to the screaming that continued down the street, opened the door of Gerry's car tossed my things inside, and started running toward the sound of the screaming. When I got off of the parking lot, I was able to see a woman standing on the sidewalk beside her vehicle trying to dial her cell phone as she screamed and cried. I had no idea what I might find when I reached her. Was there someone in front of her vehicle who had been hit by the white pick-up truck?

I reached the woman quickly and was relieved to find that there was no one else involved in the accident. I put my arm around her, tried to calm her down and encouraged her to sit down on the curb. She continued to cry, but managed to reach her husband on her cell phone and I listened to her describe what had happened when the white truck had come barreling down the one-way street headed straight toward her.

There was a restaurant directly across the street from the accident scene and the customers had spilled outside where they stood and watched as I tried to comfort the hysterical woman. Gerry arrived shortly after I did, turned off the woman's vehicle, and took the phone from her to speak to her husband to reassure him that his wife was okay. Two other people who had been following the white truck showed up and told us that he had been weaving and crashing into things on sidewalks for a few blocks before hitting the woman's vehicle. Someone had called 9-1-1 and four police cars went speeding by in the direction that the damaged truck had gone.

The whte truck had sideswiped the woman's vehicle and the damage was not as bad as it could have been. Damage to the woman's presence of mind that morning was immeasurable, though. I was shaken for hours after I got to work by the accident, but also by the reaction of the people across the street who stood watching and did nothing to see if the screaming woman was okay.

A quote by Edmund Burke came to mind: "All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing".

Reading Material

When I'm traveling, one of the ways I like to amuse myself is to try and catch a glimpse of the titles of books that fellow-travelers are reading. It's a form of people-watching, I suppose. I also like to hear from friends and family about the books they’ve been reading. (Like The Girls from Ames: A Story of Women and a Forty-Year Friendship - thanks Nicole!) I think that the reading choices people make say a lot about them.

It's not only books that reveal the character and interest of an individual, it's also magazines. Here's what's on the stack of "to reads" in my house at any given time.

I've been reading Good Housekeeping for more years than I can count.

I always learn something new when I read the Ladies' Home Journal.

To keep on top of current events Time has to be on the list.

And to keep abreast with news from Canada, I enjoy Macleans.

More recently, I've been enjoying Hobby Farm Home (ahh...Manderley...sigh)

The latest issue of Mary Jane's Farm arrived in the mail yesterday.

I enjoyed the TV show in the past and now I'm enjoying the magazine as well Harrowsmith Country Life

Whenever I am in Canada I always pick up the latest copy of Chatelaine and Canadian Living. I think Chatelaine takes the prize for the magazine I've been reading for the longest period of time.  I was a teenager when I started reading Mom's copy, and for a time there was a version for younger women called Miss Chatelaine.

Okay, your turn. What magazines arrived in your mailbox or found their way into your shopping bag lately?

Assault

In this country we are very conscious of being sensitive to ethnic and cultural diversity. We pay close attention to the diverse nature of our workforce and believe strongly that a diverse workforce is a strong workforce.  We have come a long way.

I work for a corporate entity that is considerate of employee well-being and the diversity of it's workforce. If I were to break a limb I would get a preferred parking space at work; if I were to become ill I have the relative security of short and long-term disability plans; if I have a family emergency and need to leave work unexpectedly I don't think twice about it. I am fortunately to be able to spend my day with a great group of people, each one carrying his or her own degree of personal diversity.

I was taught at an early age to be considerate of those around me and I have tried to do that throughout my life, with varying degrees of success to be sure. I've read things about how we as corporate employees  prefer to send an email to a co-worker across the hall rather than taking a few steps into their office to talk to them face-to-face. I would say we have moved past that into thinking it's okay to yell to co-workers across the hall or even a few doors down the hall with little regard for those who may be trying to work around us.

People! If you have something to say to someone get out of your chair and go to them and have the conversation.  Be considerate of those trying to work around you!

Then there are the so-called teaming events and games that have overtaken us.  At first it was fun to spend an hour or so every few months taking a break from the stressful routine of work and do something different.  Now we have ongoing games that creep their way into everything we do. As always, there are those who are hard-wired for games and events and they are in their glory.  Others, at risk of being called out as not being team-players, have begun to rebel against the onslaught of "fun activities" and boycott activities. 

When I go shopping, almost without fail, I come across people talking on their cell phones while they go about their business.  It's rude and it's inconsiderate to continue a phone conversation while standing in front of a check-out person at the grocery store.  If the roles were reversed and the check-out person chatted away on a phone while scanning your groceries, would that be okay?  Come on!

Sunday afternoons: if it's sunny and warm I want to be outside enjoying the day.  I'm often surrounded by the sound of lawn mowers, leaf blowers, lawn edgers, motorized skateboards, and even music coming from the windows of cars as they drive past. When I was a girl there were bylaws about maintaining the peace and quiet on Sundays.

By nature, and by choice, I tend toward the quiet, introverted, and introspective sort and frequently I feel assaulted by the cacophony of voices and activity around me.  I can't be the only one!

"In quiet and confidence is your strength." (Isaiah 30:15).

Life Changing

Megan noticed first, my cute little hairstylist who looks so different every time I see her that I sometimes barely recognize her. This time, her hair was the same beautiful copper color as that of my granddaughter's, it was cut shorter than last time I saw her, and she wore stylish glasses.

As she prepared to start cutting my hair after shampooing and giving me the most heavenly scalp massage, she hesitated for a moment.

“Have you noticed the curl in your hair?” she asked.

Curl? My hair? Not a chance! Much to my chagrin, I’ve fought with stick-straight hair my entire life, but as I looked where she was indicating, there was a bit of curl! Now where in the world did that come from, I wondered. She began to play with my hair and fluff it here and there, and sure enough more curls began to form!

Can hormones change hair from straight to wavy? Perhaps it was the never-ending rain and cloudy skies here in the Pacific Northwest that caused my hair to change from its natural form (probably not, but I'm sure this ugly weather is changing something within me). Whatever the cause, I was intrigued.

This morning after my shower I did something I haven’t done since I was a girl; I let my hair dry naturally. Oh, I fluffed it a bit, applied some product, and arranged it and rearranged it, and then I left it alone and let it dry without the benefit of my blow dryer and round brush. And, you know, I think it looks pretty good! A light spritz of hair spray and I’m good to go!

This change in my hair routine could revolutionize my life let alone my morning routine! Just think of the extra time I will have for writing, blogging, yoga, catching up on email, or whatever I choose! This could be the catalyst that enables me to finish the next draft of my book according to my self-imposed timeline!

Take note all you writer friends of mine: check your hair tomorrow morning to see if you too have some newly formed curls that will give you some extra writing time too!

Drive-Thru Rage

It is hard to believe it's been one week since I updated my blog.  I am heading back home today after an unexpected trip to Canada to help my daughter as she has battled a health issue.  I'm greateful to have been able to come and help her with caring for my granddaughter and everything else that young moms have to take care of.  Thankfully Laurinda is on the mend, though the doctor says it will be an up-and-down recovery.

It has been a blessing for me to spend time with both of my grandchildren this week though.  They grow and change so quickly, and Gerry and I have made it a priority to visit as often as possible during these early years. 

Only one experience somewhat marred what has been a blessed week.  One afternoon I had taken my granddaughter to visit our son, his wife, and our precious grandson at their home to give Laurinda an opportunity to rest.  I was on my way back to Laurinda's house and stopped to get an Iced Capp at Tim Hortons for her and, as Makiya was in the back seat, I decided to go through the drive-thru.

I followed the arrows; I thought I knew where I was going; but it turned out that when I reached the end of the parking lot where I intended to turn into the drive through there were three cars blocking the way and they were also going to the drive-thru.  When the car immediately in front of me pulled forward, and the one behind stayed back to leave a gap, I could have driven through, driven down the road, turned around and joined the back of the queue.  I didn't.  I assumed that the driver was waiting was giving me an opportunity to join the queue, so I waved in a gesture of thanks, and turned into the line-up. 

I assumed incorrectly and the woman driving the car that I turned in front of was not happy.

She rolled down her window and began spewing obscenities at me and calling me names.  When it was my turn to place my order at the speaker she blared her horn.  She made gestures toward me that left no doubt about her state of mind.

I felt bad that I had misjudged her intention but it wasn't like she was going to have to stay in line that much longer because of it.  There was also only one car behind her when I turned in front of her so it wasn't like I was affecting numerous other people either.

When I got to the window to pick up and pay for the Iced Capp I had ordered for Laurinda, I told the girl that I also wanted to pay for the car behind me; it turned out that she had also ordered just an Iced Capp. 

For the sake of thirty seconds and a couple of dollars she lost her temper and spewed anger.  I wondered what her day had been like up to that point and what she had ahead of her for the rest of her day.  My hope was that my gesture of paying for her order would diffuse some of her anger so she wouldn't carry it with her and direct it toward anyone else.  My fear was that she would feel justified and entitled. 

I glanced in the rear view mirror and smiled at my granddaughter who was humming a little tune, said a quick prayer for the angry woman, and continued on with my day.

Time Out

It's hard to imagine that this sweet little girl looking up at you could behave any differently from what that little innocent face portrays, isn't it?  It's true she is the sweetest little sixteen-month old girl on the planet, but according to her mom she's quickly closing in on what they call the "terrible twos" and I can attest, due to the magic of our frequent Skype visits, that she has a mind of her own and knows how to push her mom's buttons already!  My daughter has started giving her short periods of time-out to teach her what's acceptable behavior and what isn't. 

I was thinking about time-out as I was driving home this afternoon.  The concept is to separate the little one from the unacceptable behavior and provide an opportunity for them to calm down and make a better choice when they are removed from the time out.  I think I could use a time-out sometimes.  I have a tendancy to become very focused (perhaps obsessive) on the task at hand to the exclusion of everything around me. 

My husband might suggest I need a time-out on Saturday mornings when I am driven to write; my yorkies might suggest I need one when they want to play and I am in the middle of a good book; my co-workers might suggest a time-out would be in order when it's time to participate in one latest team-building "fun" activities and I feel I have too much work to do.

I recently realized I needed a time-out first thing in the morning.  For years I have had a morning routine that I rarely deviated from from the moment my feet hit the floor, but for the past few weeks I have mixed it up a bit.  I'm forcing myself to slow down and take better care of myself.  (I heard someone say recently "if you wear out your body, where are you going to live?")  Unbelievably, it's working!  Those few minutes that I take my morning time-out carry through to the rest of my day and help me be more mindful of making healthier choices for myself.  Who knew it would actually work for an old 'gal like me?!

Have you taken any time-outs lately?  Do you need to take any time-outs?

Manderley - Part 1

I feel at home when we arrive at Manderley.  Armed with a rough description of where the land is, and our memories of our last visit, Gerry and I set out to see if we can find it again.  We want some time to walk the land alone before we call the realtor.

The last time we were there the land was covered in snow and it was dead quiet.  This time, the snow is all gone and we are delighted to find that there is a marsh behind the garden area. 

The marsh and the trees nearby are alive with the sounds of birds, frogs, and ducks.  The quiet of the winter is a distant memory but the sounds of nature equally feed a part of my soul that has been hungering for something more than city life. 

The garden still bears subtle evidence of last year's harvest.  It waits -the promise of spring planting and a new bounty of produce ahead.

The weathered outbuildings still stand proud and speak of past generations; past years of toil on this land we are calling Manderley.  There is history here; we look forward to meeting the older couple who have retired from farming this land and moved into town.

I look out across the prairie to the trees that mark the edge of the property and I am reminded once again of something Gerry had said.  This is not property we are considering purchasing; this is land.  And more, for us it is a lifestyle.

The pace of city life has lost it's charm for me; things that once seemed to define success no longer seem important.  I am restless and feel a call toward home. 

The night before, I underlined a passage in a book by Sharon Butala called The Perfection of the Morning.  The book is a memoir of her own return to the Saskatchewan prairie.  "What I could remember about that natural world from which our family had been separated by so little was a combination of smells, the feel of the air, a sense of the presence of Nature as a living entity all around me.  All of that had been deeply imprinted in me, but more in the blood and bone and muscles - an instinctive memory - than a precise memory of events or people.  I remembered it with my body, or maybe I remembered it with another sense for which we have no name but is no less real for that."  (highlight mine).

Having walked the property we return to our vehicle.  I stand for a moment before climbing into the passenger seat and breathe deeply, feeding my soul. 

We set off across the dusty road toward town.

A Bruise to the Ego

It was funny when he did it.  Remember the opening to the Dick Van Dyke TV show when Dick came in and tripped over the ottoman?  Classic comedy performed by one of the masters.  It was hilarious!

Not so funny when a fifty-one year old woman does it when she's going downstairs for a late night snack.  Who put that ottoman right there?  Oh yeah, it was me.  How embarassing.  All for the sake of crackers and cheese.

I scream and Gerry comes running to find me flat on my back on the living room floor.

Was the bruise on the side of my leg worth it?  You bet it was - c'mon we're talking about crackers and cheese here!  Was the bruise to my ego worth it?  That one's a little tougher to justify.

What Do I Do?

I've sometimes wished that I was a teacher or a nurse - not because I feel especially drawn to those occupations - just because it would be easy to answer the question when someone asks what I do for a living.

As it is I've stumbled to explain what my current job actually entails.  In the early years it wasn't too bad - I was a Programmer/Analyst.  Most folks knew that was business-speak for "computer geek".  Time passed, my work changed and I became an IT Consultant.  Try explaining that one to someone who's first question is "what is IT?".

A few years ago I left the technology/computer field and ventured out into a brave new world under the umbrella of Human Resources.  My official job title today is Work Management Analyst.  Clear as mud?

The other day someone forwarded me a job posting from monster.com and there it was.  A concise description of my job.  So for your reading pleasure, here is what I do.

Sr. Business Analyst HR Systems

• Business Analyst
• Customer Service
• Design
• ERP
• Oracle
• PeopleSoft

• Technical Support 
• HR Module
• Functional
• Requirements Gathering

.....looking for a Senior Business Analyst who specializes in HR systems with a preferred focus on PeopleSoft.  There will be a focus on analysis, requirements gathering, creating functional specifications and some other technical aspects.  They are not looking for an overly technical resource, but more functional with some technical skills.  Communication and client facing skills are a must.

So there's my day job in a nutshell.  Next time someone asks what I do for a living I'm going to spout this off. Someday I hope to be able call myself Writer, but this is what it is for now.

What is your response when asked what you do for a living?

Serenity in Starbucks?

My car had to go in for some quick work today so we made arrangements that I would drop it off after work, head down to Starbucks, and Gerry would pick me up after he got out of work.  It was a great plan - a Carmel Macchiato, my notebook and favorite pen, and an hour or so to write.  What could be better?

All went well until I arrived at Starbucks and sat down at an out-of-the way table and pulled out my notebook.  The place was hopping, but I am pretty good at tuning out background noice when I have to, so I wasn't worried about being able to write.

Then I saw, and heard, a young boy.  Now you know that I love little ones; I don't fault this little boy in the least for his behavior.  His mom sat in one of these big soft chairs they have in Starbucks chatting away to a friend while her child ran wild.  He played with the door while she weakly chastened him and took no action to actually make the behavior stop.  He hid around a corner and called at the top of his lungs for his Mom to come and find him. At one point she took him to the bathroom and when his business in there was finished, he came running out of that room leaving the door to slam behind him, screaming yet again.

I was sorely tempted at one point to stand up and chasten the child myself. 

I didn't; I did my best to ignore the undesirable behavior.  I did get some writing done, but my nerves were frazzled by the time Gerry arrived to pick me up. It wasn't quite the serene picture I had imagined it would be.

Missing Megan

I think of her first thing in the morning and last thing before I go to bed at night.  We meet regularly and I feel much better after a visit with her.  We had planned to meet the week Gerry and I were on vacation but we had to reschedule.  Unfortunately, between her schedule and my schedule, we won't be able to get together again until next week.

I am finding it hard to get going in the morning since it's been so long since we got together.  It takes me longer to get ready because nothing seems to look right.  At night when I am getting ready for bed, sometimes I look in the mirror and wonder how in the world I could have gone through the day looking so terrible.  Really, it's true.

Some mornings I try little tricks to try and make myself look and feel better, but nothing seems to help.  I am counting down the days until we can get together next week and I can get back to looking and feeling like myself.

Megan is my hairstylist. I miss her.

Conveniences

I'm working at home this morning. I've got some things to do for the upcoming Stories from the Heart conference, some personal paperwork to tend to, research to do, phone calls to make, and of course I'll be working on my book.

It's quiet up here in my office, where the click click of the keys on my keyboard is the only sounds I'm aware of. I just returned from downstairs with a fresh cup of coffee; down there it's not nearly as quiet as it is in my writing sanctuary.

Downstairs the washing machine bumps and grinds through it's cycle (we will never buy that brand of machine again), and the dishwasher hums quietly doing it's own work. From outside I heard the sound of the garbage truck approaching and when I glanced outside I saw all the green bins lined up on the street like silent soldiers standing at attention.

As I thought about how much was happening while I sat upstairs oblivious to the all of the activity, I realized how blessed I am to be living in this particular place at this particular time. A hundred years ago, my grandmother would have done her laundry and dishes much differently than the way that mine is done today and her trash would not have been disposed of quite so easily. A morning spent only on activities dear to her heart would likely have been impossible.

Certainly circumstances are not perfect in the way that we live our lives in 2010, in fact I dream about a simple farm life where I can grow a garden, have a few chickens, and hang my laundry outside in the sunshine. For today though, I'm thankful for the conveniences that allow me time to follow my passion.

It's coming

It's coming.

In the fall I planted a selection of crocus, daffodil, tulip and hyacinth bulbs around my yard and in my pots.  The other day I noticed that in one of the pots a little green sprout is poking out.

I left work yesterday and realized that it wasn't completely dark.

I noticed that the grocery story was selling potted daffodils and hyacinths.

Gardening magazines are appearing on the newsstands.

Spring. It's just around the corner! Hope springs eternal!

Relocating for Health Reasons

My feet hurt.  Perhaps it's a product of growing older and wearing too many ill-fitting shoes throughout my life, but I am spending more time these days thinking about my feet. 

It started as an occasional bout with something-or-another in the ball of my foot that would cause it to sieze up like an engine without oil.  That pain actually had me remove my shoes in the mall one day and walk stocking footed to my destination.  It's happening more frequently.

I've tried insoles: full insoles, heel insoles, toe insoles, gel insoles, you name it. I'm trying to migrate away from wearing heels but the problem with that is that most of my pants are of the length that require a heel.  Now I'm faced with hemming my pants, NEVER a task that I have enjoyed. And I still need to dress well for work, so I have to find something to wear on my feet that's comfortable yet looks nice.

In the summer months my feet don't hurt.  I usually wear flat sandals or flipflops or, best of all, go barefoot. 

So, now I'm faced with a dilemna: hem my pants or move to Mexico where I can go barefoot all the time.  Tough choice.

Never Say Never

I just did something that I swore I would never do.  I got up at 5:00 am to go shopping on Black Friday!  I'm the one who doesn't like crowds and for many years have refused to go to the mall on any weekend in December.  I do my Christmas shopping early, on weeknights, or online. 

Alas, in the massive bundle of flyers that came with our Thanksgiving morning newspaper was one for Kohl's that contained something that I've been planning to buy for someone at some point, and the mark down was enough to incite me to break my cardinal shopping rule.

So, there I was just before 6:00 this morning, circling the parking lot at Kohl's watching for those white backup lights that mean someone is about to pull out.  What a sweet sight when I managed to snag a place fairly close to the door!

Once inside, I was stunned by the line-up to pay for things.  They actually had a woman holding up a sign that said "end of line" to help shoppers.  Once I found the item I was looking for, I made a bee line to the end of the line, not even taking the time to browse.  I was a woman on a mission.  The line-up moved fairly quickly, and I was in and out in about 45 minutes. 

Now I'm thinking that perhaps some of my rigid rules could be relaxed a bit.  Maybe I'll do something radical like skydiving or bungee jumping next!  Or maybe not, I think I'll just head downstairs and do some knitting.

Twenty Years in the Making

Today I celebrated twenty years with the company that I work for.  Twenty years! 

In 1989 the record of the year was Don't Worry, Be Happy by Bobby McFerrin, the cost of a US stamp was twenty-five cents, Lucille Ball died at age 87, and the Pulitzer Prize for fiction was awarded to Anne Tyler for Breathing Lessons.

I was a thirty-year old woman, my children were eleven and nine, and I was driven to move us forward into a life that, at that time, existed only in my mind.

I could never have fathomed the changes that would take place in the next twenty years.  I have changed careers, survived more than one company downsizing (Or rightsizing as they say now.  Yuck.), moved to Washington State, and watched the closure of the office in Canada where I first worked. 

The celebration was bitter-sweet for me in some ways.  Of all the great people I worked with when I started with this company only a handful remain, and only one with whom I still work.  In twenty years, one would expect there to have been retirements, and departures due to attrition, but the significant loss of co-workers due to the change in the economy and the business climate is a heart-breaking thing to ponder.

Don't get me wrong, I still work with a world-class group of individuals, but tonight my mind is on those I started out with twenty years ago in a tiny Business Systems department in Canada. 

My manager, Bob - He was an English man of integrity and grace who always did the right thing for his employees. Forced to retire, perhaps before he was ready.

Ray - an English curmudgeon of a man who frustrated me to no end at times.  Retired many years ago when he reached that age.

Ed - a man with a sense of humor and tales to tell from his childhood that kept us entertained many an afternoon.  Retired when he was ready.

Wanda - She is still my very best friend. We shared the best of times, and the worst of times over the years.  Retired.

Dan - Retired.  He had a nickname for everyone he came into contact with.  I was known as Linda Lou.

Barb - A behind-the-scenes girl who had a great sense of humor.  Once, when I left my pencil in her office she sent me an email telling me that she was holding it hostage and if I didn't do something-or-another she would take the lead out! Outsourced and then terminated due to changes in the company.

Norma - Retired, also perhaps before she was ready due to downsizing.  I bet she's square dancing and having a grand time these days.

Pete - The last man standing, a man of integrity and someone I consider a friend.  He, alone remains.

So today, I raise a glass to toast these who have crossed my path.  Each one has left an impression, each one is remembered with a smile on my face.

Eccentricity

I'm going to turn into one of those eccentric older ladies; all the signs are there. We were out and about shopping yesterday and I saw two must-have items for my retirement.

The first was a cloche felt hat at Macy's.  I feel absolutely in love with this hat, and I'm not a hat person!  I can see myself wearing this hat and a cotton dress on a hot summer afternoon out for a drive in a jalopy. Sounds crazy, but it has a certain appeal to me.  They have it in red, which would be perfect for someone attending a Red Hat Society function.  I won't be joining though.  I plan to enjoy my unscheduled days and embrace spontaneity wearing my black cloche felt hat.

The second item was a Vespa.  Gerry and I both liked these, and I can picture the both of us taking a quick trip to the grocery store on our matching Vespas.  Of course, I'd have to be wearing my cloche hat, and Gerry would be wearing his fedora.  Perhaps we would have a side car of some sort for Maya and Chelsea.

Shoot...if I'm having these thoughts now one can only imagine what I'll be developing a yen for when I'm eighty!

Surrender

In the wee hours of this morning I came to the conclusion that it's time to surrender. All of the griping and complaining isn't going to change the fact that I can't remember the last time that I slept through the night. I'm going to "own" the fact that I don't sleep well and turn it into something positive.
Once upon a time I used to do housework in the middle of the night. I'm not quite that crazy these days, but I'm thinking that I can put the time to better use than I have been. Laying in bed, listening to the steady breathing of a husband and two dogs is just irritating.
I can use the extra time to catch up on correspondence so don't be surprised if you receive an email from me that has been composed in the wee hours.
I can make a dent in my list of books that I want to read because really, at this rate, I'll never live long enough to read every book that's on the list right now, not to mention those that are added almost daily.
I can work on my memoir. Some of the best ideas seem to come to me in the middle of the night.
I can get a head start on meal planning for the next few days. Now that's a task that I always have the best intentions about, but limited follow-through.
The more I think about it, the more I think that this might turn into something wonderful. Never mind the fact, that I'll be walking around like a zombie due to lack of sleep. At least my email box will be under control, I'll be well read, my memoir will be finished, and we'll have healthy dinners every night. And if I fall asleep with my head in my plate, well so be it.