small town diva

Dark Clouds and Shadows

2006-07-10T10:27:00.000-07:00

My absence from my blog has been due to a number of things. First of all, I just completed what was probably one of the most challenging consulting assignments I have ever tackled. It became much more than a job-- it became the albatross around my neck, it became the stuff of nightmares, and it became the yardstick by which I measured the success or failure of my entire life.

This project consumed me so much that I didn't notice the dark clouds surrounding my home and hearth. On Monday, June 26, I finished my work and turned it into the client. On Tuesday June 27, I realized that DivaHusband was not in good shape.

Six months ago, DivaHusband lost his job. Six months later, DivaHusband has lost his happiness. He is down and out, and I, in my self-absorbed state, spent the last four months in a needy and demanding state and took and took from him emotionally until he had nothing left to give.

On Wednesday, June 28th, DivaHusband and I went to a therapist together. There we both came to understand just how depressed he is. He's taken so much care of my emotional needs over the past four months. that we were completely out of touch with his own. I saw just how much emotional weight has been on his shoulders.

He is taking an anti-depressant and trying desperately to find the spark that gives life meaning. We will continue to go to therapy together and try to figure some things out.

Six months of no job has certainly hit us very hard financially, but I think it has taken far more of a toll on his self esteem.

My goal now is to care for him as well as he has cared for me--and to not EVER get so caught up in a consulting job again that I miss what is going on in my own home.

Please pray for DivaHusband.

I love my family

2006-05-20T17:26:00.000-07:00

Here I am, sitting next to DivaDaughter--formerly known as Hootergirl----using the wireless internet network in our home to write on my blog. Since I am still a bit gimpy legged, I appreciate the convenience of a laptop. It is just too bad it's an Apple.

We sitting on the couch together, watching the 56 inch HDTV, enjoying the last wisps of light in this period of DUSK. DivaSon is on my right, DivaDaughter to my left, DivaHusband beside her. Estaban is over, He is DivaSon's best partner in crime and a delight to us all. Estaban has two mothers, and is the most hetereosexual 16 year old I know.

Things are right with the world. These are some of the happiest times I spend, just being with my family. I marvel at what we have created together. A family that chills out, a family that argues, a family that shares its fatigue, and a family that shares its laptops.

Even if this one is an Apple.

Cinco de Mayo is not my favorite holiday.

2006-05-17T10:49:00.000-07:00

May 5 I fell and broke my kneecap----I completely snapped that patella in two! I wish I could blame it on too much tequila or Dos Equis, or too many exuberant shouts of OLE, but instead I am the victim of party clean up. We were having a party to celebrate the college graduation of the international student who has called Chez Diva home for the past 5 years, and I tripped over an ottoman while carrying a stack of dishes to the kitchen.

After 10 days on crutches, I am irritable and frustrated. The doctor just allowed me to start putting a little weight on the leg, but it's wobbly and painful. I can't bend it for another three weeks, and have to keep it tightly splinted most of the time.

It's probably a good thing for me to have this experience, despite my growling. I am reminded of the incredible blessing we have just to be able to walk around on our own. I have been humbled by how helpful my family has been. My friends have been great---bringing me food and checking up on me.

I've continued to work as much as I can, and feel so grateful that I make my living with my head and not my feet. The big project I am working on has not suffered in the least. The project has a very aggressive timetable, and I feel a great deal of stress to deliver on time. So far so good.

The ugliness inside people

2006-04-28T11:26:00.000-07:00

The reporter's phone call touched a chord to me, so I spent a few minutes yesterday evening visiting some blogs I like, as well as some community message boards, such as those on Court TV, American Idol, ABC--Lost, and stuff like the Onion, Salon.com, etc.

It's amazing how some people "talk" to other people when they think they cannot be identified. Who are those people spewing racial hatred, nasty comments about women, vulgar and suggestive language, and talking about cybersex?

Maybe they are our neighbors. Maybe they are your child's teacher. Maybe they are the people serving us our food. We really don't know, do we?

It's quite troubling when you really think about it.

It goes back to that adage---are we really savages whom civilization has tamed, or are we peaceful beings whom civilization has corrupted?

NOT!!!!!!!!

2006-04-28T11:25:00.000-07:00

Turns out the reporter was just checking in with us since we are such "notable" (note the sarcasm in my voice) consultants in our fields!

Thank goodness.

BUSTED?

2006-04-27T18:07:00.000-07:00

"Diva, do you have a moment?" BossDiva buzzes me on the intercom. "There's a reporter on the phone asking about how blogs and blogging affect the workplace environment."

THUD. Sickness in the pit of my stomach. Why in the hell would a reporter call OUR office and ask that question, unless somehow, somewhere, my blog has someone come out from under cover. My carefully laid smokescreens, my meticulous efforts to hide my ISP address, the comfort of my anonymity-----gone.

How am I going to explain this one away?

Allergies

2006-04-19T08:19:00.000-07:00

AAAHHHHCHOOOO! AAAHHHCHOOO!

This is the sum total of most of my dialogue these days. I have the worst case of allergies in many seasons. I am paying for that mild winter, cool spring, and beautiful garden.

My understanding of allergies is that they are caused by your immune system in overdrive. Your body, being incredibly hypervigilant, goes overboard in protecting you from those allergens by producing huge amounts of histamines. These histamines cause the sneezing, runny eyes, and general lethargy of allergies.

Whic makes we wonder--is there any correlation between people who have allergies and how often they get sick with other things? In other words, does an overactive immune system that causes problems in one arena translate into a vigilant immune system that protects you in another?

I sure hope so. I won't be sick for 50 years if that's true.

Spring time

2006-04-10T08:20:00.000-07:00

SPRING is in the air. My irises are breathtakingly beautiful, and my tulips--well let's just say that I must have some genetic material left over from some one with more vowels than consonants in his name.

My garden is the best it's been in years. Must be the mild winter, coupled with a cooler spring.

I'm getting ready to plant my herbs and vegetables. I decided this year to ONLY plant heirloom tomatoes as a tribute to my grandmother, who grew some of the best Cherokee purple tomatoes ever. I have a bunch of her dalias in my garden too, and they are still living off the love my grandmother gave them during her lifetime.

I bought a lot of snapdragons this weekend too, again in honor of my grandmother, who loved them with a passion.

I've been thinking about grandma a lot lately. This was her favorite time of year, and I have fond memories of her in her old bonnet, wearing her black galoshes and with hoe in hand, getting the soil ready for spring planting. She would work from morning till night, hoeing and planting, hoeing and planting. The rich dark earth would stick to her galoshes and to her fingers, and she would take a deep breath and say--do you smell that? It's the smell of God.

Somehow I think God would agree.

Big Business, Big Headaches

2006-03-17T11:23:00.000-08:00

Henry Kissinger is my new hero, after the week I have spent trying to broker a business deal I really want.

It is HARD to get consensus when multiple decison makers are involved. NAFTA could not have been this difficult to get negotiate and get approved. This is probably the biggest consulting job I've done since I started working with my current firm. It takes me into another level of expertise and professional "gravitas." That is, it WILL if I can ever get the contract inked.

It's a job of some complexity, and must be approved by the nine member Board of Directors. I have written a proposal that would earn me at Ph.D at Stanford Graduate School of Business, yet I continue to answer questions, give more detail, and otherwise tweak this thing.

Now I know why consultants charge $500 an hour or something. They have to pay for all the non-billable hours they spent up front just trying to explain what they've proposed.

I am a new mother

2006-03-13T09:39:00.000-08:00

A godmother, that is. My good friend had a beautiful baby girl two Saturdays ago, and I was present at the birth with her, her husband, and her mother.

Wow, what an incredible experience. I was there for her other two childrens' births as well, and each time I feel as though I have had a privileged glimpse of God and eternity.

It also helps that my friend was MADE for birthing babies---her births should be filmed and used as health class videos or baby delivery training for med students. She can pop those babies out like nothing flat. This last one took 4 hours from first contraction to cutting the cord. She lost her good humor for the 20 minutes or so that it took her to go through the "transition" phase--from 4-10 centimeters (yes really 20 MINUTES) but then quickly regained it as "little miss irish eyes " appeared.

I got there after lunch and got home in time to fix dinner.

Mother and baby are doing fine.

Update on the Day to Day.

2006-03-13T09:24:00.000-08:00

I'm psyched. I'm pretty sure I am going to get a great new client work project that will be lots of fun to work on AND will be a very nice client to put on my success list down the road.

Things are working their way back to normal in this office. I still miss ApprenticeDiva, who obviously is no longer an apprentice but a full fledged Diva-in-her-own-right. I need to change her name. I'll have to mull that one over--most of the obvious re-naming might make her or me too easily identified.

I feel as though I am returning from the front of a major skirmish with the enemy, given all our staffing changes, and I don't know if I am shell shocked, tired, wounded, or some combination of them all. It's clear that the workplace culture has taken a major turn in some direction--what I don't know yet. Last week I would have told you it was completely and utterly unbearable--today it's hopeful and trending positive. Amazing how much my emotions can vascillate during a period of transition.

I'm just waiting for DivaHusband to find another job. Somehow I think that once he's squared away, my own direction will be clearer.

DH is slowly recovering from what was a five year version of main-lining adrenalin and ephinephrine at his job. He's relaxed. He laughs. He sleeps better. His blood pressure is back to normal. HE'S BACK TO NORMAL. I see now the man I married, and I marvel at what he was willing to put up with just to pay our bills and put food on the table.

More than anything, I want him to be able to do what he loves, whatever that is. Maybe if I step up my work commitment, I can take up the financial slack. He's been the primary wage earner, but that role has come at a great price for him.

Maybe it's my turn now. Maybe this new client will open new doors for me.

Fantasy Island

2006-03-09T13:25:00.000-08:00

One of the backstabbing, catty reporters around Hollywood recently talking about Britney Spears::

"My God, she is HUGE. She must weigh, what, like 130 pounds or something???"

Hasta La Vista, Baby

2006-03-07T10:13:00.000-08:00

TemporaryDiva is gone. The BossLady and I, newly united by our common misery, finally had enough and sent her packing.

TemporaryDiva drained our batteries, but she accomplished a major thing in our office--she got BossLady and myself back in communication, working together, and I now remember why I started working her in the first place.

When BossLady is on, she is really HOT. She knows how to do our business, and can be a great source of inspiration.

Now, if I can just get a moment to breathe.............

Girls just wanna have fun

2006-02-22T07:20:00.000-08:00

I love this picture of DivaDaughter. She was dancing on the tables (with Mom's approval) on Christmas Eve on our cruise. The waiter tried to get me up there too, but creaky knees don't allow table climbing. We had a great time together with 21 of our closest friends and family!

Where everybody knows your name

2006-02-22T06:18:00.000-08:00

Last night DivaHusband and I went to "the club" for dinner. I recently joined the Board of Directors for this club, which basically means that once a month I get together with the other Board members, review the club financials and programs, and then eat this gastronomic delight of new food offerings. It's the cushiest board service I've ever done, and is a highly sought after appointment. I think I got asked to serve because they want some representation from the "younger members." (I think the hair dye has them fooled.).

So we go in, DivaHusband gives them our name, and for the rest of the evening, its "Mrs Diva" this and "Mrs. Diva" that. It seemed that the staff talked to me all night, but didn't say much to DivaHusband. Our waiter seems a bit wound up tight, and I commented to DivaHusband, "I wonder why he's so nervous?" to which DivaHusband replied "Because he's waiting on a BOARD MEMBER."

It never occurred to me that the staff might actually know who the board members are, and I vehemently disagreed with DH. However, I have to admit that we really got some VIP service.

This morning I called 'the club' and just casually spoke to the General Manager to ask him about our next meeting. He asked me how my dinner was last night AND he knew what I ate!

So I guess they do have some way of tracking "special customers," maybe something pops up when they put our membership number in the computer or something.

I'm not really sure I like that. I've believed all my life that everyone deserves the best service you can provide, and putting people in a special category seems wrong.

It's one thing for my to proclaim myself a diva, it's another thing for other people to believe it and treat me like one!!

God is with me

2006-02-20T10:26:00.000-08:00

It's February 20, and so far 2006 has hit like a whirlwind. In the middle of such chaos, I am strangely calm. I've been praying for some time now for God to help me trust Him more, and I believe I am getting blessed in that way.

For example, DivaHusband is unemployed. His job ended January 31. Normally I would be in a complete and total panic, but I have been quite at peace. I see God's hand in this whole thing. God has given me a measure of peace that I haven't felt in a very long time. I trust in His provision for us. That's an amazing blessing for someone like me who worries about everything.

Our church is going through a time of big changes of its own. The teaching has been so incredibly rich, and our pastor has repeatedly reminded all of us about the amazing faithfulness of God in all circumstances. We're building a new church and at every step of the way, we see God removing huge obstacles, blocking incorrect paths so that we don't get led the wrong way, and providing resources in abundance---things like money, people with just the right expertise, and the land we wanted.

I'm starting to realize that I have only allowed God into the teeny, tiniest corner of my life and that is probably why I have only felt the teeny tiniest part of His awesome power. As I surrender more, as I let Him lead instead of trying to do it myself, and as I believe more in His love for me--------well life seems to be getting easier to cope with---not necessarily easier to live, but definitely easier to cope with.

My "love people" caught on film!!!

2006-02-17T16:16:00.000-08:00

Here are my "love people." These are people who are part of your family whose relationship isn't necessarily by blood. ( my lovely cousin's son coined that phrase to explain all the complicated relationships that exist in our family).. My husband, stepdaughter, stepson, and stepdaughter-in-law. (they are really just MY FAMILY.) I LOVE THESE PEOPLE. This pic is from our Christmas cruise. I am goin to have the most stunning grandchildren EVER.

Now THIS is contentment!!!!!

2006-02-17T16:05:00.000-08:00

This is Hunter laying on our pool cover. I want to feel this relaxed.

It's my job

2006-02-17T06:20:00.000-08:00

I called ApprenticeDiva yesterday and told her in no uncertain terms that she had to quit her new job and come back here immediately or I was going to need more mental health treatment than my COBRA insurance plan would cover. I am sure I sounded a bit hysterical, and I was.

TemporaryDiva had a mental meltdown yesterday. She's a lovely young woman, eager, bright, competent. But she suffers from an all-too-common female malady with multiple names, what I call either unconscious low self esteem, defensive posturing, the blame game, or out and out bad attitude, depending on how I'm feeling that day.

Yesterday I had some grace to offer. It's obvious that someone somewhere has done a big number on this poor child. She is so incredibly hard on herself, and in turn it makes her incredibly hard on other people. She was being extremely testy and very rigid.

First, she refused to send materials to a client because the fax coversheet template had a tiny stray dot on the margin that she couldn't remove. I suggested white-out, but that apparently did not solve the problem to her satisfaction, because she rolled her eyes and stomped off.

Second, she was upset because she didn't like the layout of the company brochure and didn't want to send it to a client. I told her she would have to just live with her dislike, because we just spent several thousand dollars on them AND they were personally designed by the woman who signs our checks.

Third, she didn't want to call one of our clients and introduce herself because she had not had enough training about how that call should go and what should be said. She requested a script or a training manual that would help her. I replied that we had generally not thought we needed a script for someone to simply introduce themselves in a two minute call, but if she wanted one, I would try to help her write one.

Her face turned very red, she was quiet for a moment, and then she blasted me with both barrels. She was struggling with what she called a lack of structure in our workplace and got extremely testy and defensive about how she cannot do her job here because "you guys have no procedures in place, no training, and no structure, and you are setting me up to fail. "

I had an instinctive reaction to blast her back, because all she's talked about over the past three days of her training is how she already knows how to do this and how she is such a fantastic salesperson, and how much easier this job is than the one she had before, and yada yada yada. She's had such a high opinion of her capabilities (and I was impressed with her too) that I was honestly expecting her to land a few new accounts right away AND maybe even make a predatory move on some of my clients!

But as I said, I was feeling gracious, so instead of laying her flat with my sharp tongue, I took a deep breath, closed her door, sat down facing her and said, "What's the real issue here? Because what you just said does not compute with the conversations we've had and the work we've done over the past three days."

Turns out at her last job (the one she "LOVED") she got THIRTEEN WEEKS of training before she ever picked up a telephone to talk to a customer. Considering that she only worked for the company a total of twenty-one weeks, I would venture to say that she has no idea what the job really was, because she never really did IT, and therefore she cannot make the claim that she LOVED it. She loved the training, but left the job because "it was really a sales job and I didn't want to do that. I feel like they misled me. " What happened to the love?

We talked further and the floodgates opened. I learned a lot about TemporaryDiva.

Turns out she has a brother one year older working as a senior VP for a major company, making 100K+ a year, her parents have belittled every job she's had that she liked, she has competing agendas---she wants to earn a lot of money, but everything she likes to do just doesn't pay that, she has been told all her life that she's "special, worth more, shouldn't settle"(her exact words) and her parents have intervened in every difficult situation she's ever encountered so that their gal doesn't have to suffer, be accountable, or work out her own problems.

Whew. Then she started crying, talking about how she was afraid that she really wasn't talented or smart, that she couldn't achieve what she wanted to, that she felt so pressured, that she was so down and out.

I wanted to be pissed off, but I just couldn't. I felt so much compassion for her. I understand those internal tapes telling you that you just aren't good enough. I understand how haunting it can be. I just don't have the energy right now to be her therapist AND her boss. I don't want an emotional relationship, just a business one.

But counseling is one of my spiritual gifts, and it was clear that I was being called to support this young woman in this way while she talked about some very painful things she's feeling. So I did. She felt so much better, but I admit that I was completely drained. My batteries are in desperate need of a re-charge. There's a lot going on in my life that I haven't shared here, but stuff that is requiring a lot of me right nowoutside of work. I need work to be a sanctuary, a place where I get away from drama.

She had a good cry, and afterwards we had a good training session. It won't be 13 weeks, but I hope it will be enough to help her do her job for now. We did come out of that time together realizing that this is going to be just as I suspected---a temporary solution for us both. And we're both OK with that.

Since I can't get ApprenticeDiva to leave her dream job, it's back to the drawing board.

Small Town Budget Woes

2006-02-15T09:25:00.000-08:00

Small Town Diva is back on the job of saber rattlin' in town government. The latest target---our town's employee compensation program.

As part of my overall strategic plan of running this show someday, I have been serving on multiple town committees, trying to learn more about how our town works and what kinds of issues are significant to our citizens. The latest thing I've worked on is a citizens review committee to look at our compensation plan for town employees.

The first thing I realized is that I am quite happy that I am not a human resources director for a town or municipality, because what they put up with every day would make my hair even greyer than it already is. (not that my hair IS grey , because even in my small town I have a pretty good selection of hair coloring products). There is so much grousing and wailing and gnashing of teeth by a few of the town employees over the supposed inequities in the pay plan that it made even my Nice n Easy 8A medium ash blonde hair roots HURT.

It doesn't seem to matter that most of what these folks complain about isn't even true. The DONT CONFUSE ME WITH THE FACTS people are too heavily invested in being miserable. And in turn, they make the HR director miserable, their co-workers miserable, and the people on the compensation review committee miserable.

After a couple of meetings, the complainers were finally hoarse, and we were able to get down to work. That's when I found out two things that, as a citizen and taxpayer, really concerned me.

The first one is that our town has an unfunded liability that doesn't even show in our financials. It's for future health insurance coverage for retirees. Our town gives "career employees" of more than 20 years lifetime health insurance coverage that the town pays for 100%. No one knows how much money that could potentially cost our town down the road and we certainly haven't budgeted for it.

The second thing is that our town has an employee turnover rate of less than 2% annually. This means that most of our town employees are at the top end of the pay scale and that the average age of a town employee way on the far side of 40, or maybe close to 50. We're going to have a huge spike of retirement within the next 10 years (by my rough guess potentially almost 50%), and with that will go some of the institutional memory and expertise of our organization. No one seems to be thinking about this and doing any succession planning.

Somehow I think issue number two has something to do with issue number one---after paying for COBRA insurance for our family since hubby lost his job, I'm just about willing to go to work for the town just for the health insurance alone. The 10% town contribution to a retirement fund sounds pretty good too----right now half of my "retirement plan" is sitting in the doctors office with a sore throat and the other half is taking a math test.

I plan to raise these issues when the committee presents its report to the full town board. We're a little short on business expertise in that group, so I think that these two matters may not be on their radar screen. However, they are generally a very smart group of local yokels, so I am sure they will grasp the implications pretty quickly. The solutions will be tougher to swallow.

Bless my Visionary Soul

2006-02-14T08:01:00.000-08:00

You Are a Visionary Soul

You are a curious person, always in a state of awareness.Connected to all things spiritual, you are very connected to your soul.You are wise and bright: able to reason and be reasonable.Occasionally, you get quite depressed and have dark feelings.
You have great vision and can be very insightful.In fact, you are often profound in a way that surprises yourself.Visionary souls like you can be the best type of friend.You are intuitive, understanding, sympathetic, and a good healer.
Souls you are most compatible with: Old Soul and Peacemaker Soul

What Kind of Soul Are You?

LOL

2006-02-14T07:09:00.000-08:00

Yesterday marked a new chapter in my life---LOL (Life without Leslie-- AKA ApprenticeDiva. ) She started her new job yesterday as the Chief Cat Herder of a local non-profit organization. Sitting in AD's office next to mine is our new, bubbly, high energy, vim and vigor, rooting, tootin, and raring to go--datada------------- TemporaryDiva!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I think I am going to be ill.

DivaChildren

2006-02-07T15:37:00.000-08:00

HooterDaughter and DivaSon during a rare respite from their arguments. HooterDaughter has thankfully left the employ of Hooters and is now a respectable part time "document scanning specialist" and sophomore at the local university.

DivaSon plays football, videos the basketball team, and knows every ACC basketball statistic there is to know.

The luckiest dog in America

2006-02-07T15:30:00.000-08:00

This is NOT DivaDog. Her picture is forthcoming. This is, however, Elliot--or Duncan, as my father has named him. He is either the most loving, charming, sweetest dog you have ever met, or a grumpy, yappy old man, depending upon whether you are a beautiful young woman with a nice lap, or another dog.

We rescued him from the animal shelter. When we brought him home he promptly parked himself in the master bed.

Alien Invasion and Hatchlings.

2006-02-07T13:05:00.000-08:00

About a month ago DivaHusband woke up with sweats and chills while we were at our weekend cabin. He was so uncomfortable that he woke me up. His leg was hurting. He said it felt like heat and pins. We examined his leg and discovered what looked like a spider bite. It was swollen and hot. He took some Benedryl and things seemed to get better.

The bite, however, kept growing. It oozed. It was hard and looked inflamed. After two trips to the doctor and a round of antibiotics, it seemed to settle down a little bit. The doctor assured him that this was a normal course for a spider bite and that it would get better.

During this time, it took every ounce of self control I had not to whip out one of my retractable scalpels ( I have several dozen--why is another story) and just LANCE that thing. I've always been the medic in the family, and the sight of blood does NOT bother me. I have sewn up wounds, cut out ingrown toenails, and removed stitches from many different types of surgeries, most notably an appendix operaton that was performed on one of my kids in the United Arab Emirates. I've delivered two babies--not birthed them, DELIVERED THEM for a pregnant mother. Blood and bodily fluids and people screaming in pain does not faze me.

But DivaHusband has been at the receiving end of my medical ministrations once too often, and he hid my scalpels and absolutely refused to let me take care of his wound.

Last week DivaHusband had what seemed to be a relapse--he woke up covered in hives and the bite was itching and hurting more than ever. He went back to the doctor, who pumped him full of antibiotics again and told him he would need to see a surgeon by weeks end if the bite wasn't better. I was upset that DH didn't tell the doctor he already had a staff surgeon that would lance that thing for a bottle of chardonnay and a movie.

Today DH called me, a slight tremor in his voice. He said that something had COME OUT of the wound and he was going to the doctor IMMEDIATELY. When I asked him what, he weakly said, "something living, and maybe even sentient."

Turns out DivaHusband has hatched an alien. A Botfly--a native of Central America and something our doctor hasn't seen in over 20 years. I guess during our Christmas vacation to Belize he was unwittingly bitten by one of these things and it laid an egg in his body and hitched a ride to a less temperate climate.

The doctor says everything is fine now--that Botflies only lay one egg. He sent him home with a few more days of antibiotics and told him not to worry.

DivaHusband told me where he hid my scalpels.

An Expensive Habit

2006-02-07T11:01:00.000-08:00

I woke up with DivaDog on top of me this morning. Normally I would have flung her across the bed towards DivaHusband, since she is usually Daddy's Little Girl and can't be bothered with her mother. This morning, however, was different. I WELCOMED DivaDog. I petted her, told her what a good girl she was, and scooted over so that DivaDog would have MORE room upon which to lounge and stretch.

You see, we are just happy DivaDog is alive. The past couple of months have been quite touchy for her, and what happened to her could happen to your dog, so take note.

It started when DivaDaughter, who has developed an unfortunate attraction to the occasional nicotine stick, returned from a foray to the great outdoors to indulge her habit and said, "Mom, I think DD has a UTI (urinary tract infection, for you guys). She seems to be having a lot of trouble going to the bathroom."

We took her (DivaDog that is) to the vet---the "pretty vet" that my girly girl Cleo (THE love of my life and the dog by which all others are judged) loved and who could heal anything Cleo had with a simple laying on of hands and a nose kiss. After pulling DivaDog through the front door and peeling her off our laps, the vet examined her and told us that she had a very serious infection and she was quite worried about the dog.

10 days and 100 dollars worth of antibiotics and another check up later, she was no better. PrettyVet suggested an XRAY. That's when we discovered that DivaDog had four large stones obstructing her bladder.

Apparently there is a dog food that will sometimes dissolve these stones---Hills Prescription Diet S/D--so we put her on that. This food has the consistency of refrigerated chicken fat. It is the only time I have ever seen this dog refuse food. In five weeks she lost 7 pounds. But she didn't lose the stones.

So we opted for the surgery. A thousand dollars later, we are so thankful we did. Because when PrettyVet opened her up, she found not four but FIVE stones in our poor dog, each about the size and thickness of a high quality Las Vegas poker chip. She also had almost a complete obstruction of her urinary tract. Poor DivaDog would have probably died had she not had the surgery. That was last Wednesday and last night was the first time she felt good enough to jump up on the bed.

However we have to be sure that spending a thousand dollars on her hasn't given her an inflated idea of her worth. She gets one night sleeping on the down duvet with her head on the pillow. She just better not get used to it. Tomorrow it is back to the rug.

Cold Remedies

2006-02-03T10:42:00.000-08:00

On one of the blogs I regularly read, www.petiteanglaise.com , I just found out dear Petite is ill. She's remembering her childhood and what her mother used to do when she was sick. That got me to thinking about the time I had chickenpox and the croup simultaneously--a memory I wish I could forget.

I was 8 or 9 years old when my best friend Linda came down with those itchy scaly early warning signals of the chicken pox. Of course every mom in town sent her children down to visit, because at that point in time the accepted wisdom was that you WANTED your kids to all have the chickenpox at the same time since that way the moms could all share nursing duty. Sure nuff, my chickenpox soon erupted and my cousins' bedroom was turned into a mini-ward for the convalescing victims of the chickenpox.

It was my grandma's turn to nurse the patients. Linda and I lay in twin beds, inches apart, with the windows open and the curtains softly fluttering in the light wind. It was warm outside, and the air smelled very good. It was quiet, except for the faint sounds of cows mooing, dogs barking, and chickens peeping outside. There we were, eyes closed, itchy, feverish, and restless. Though we felt bad, there was at least a little big of smugness on our part that we had managed to be out of school sick, TOGETHER. The together part was very important since we had been glued at the hip since the age of two.

Suddenly I started coughing. As the day progressed, my coughing got worse and worse. By nightfall it was obvious that something was seriously wrong. Quickly Linda was spirited away by her poor mother, who no doubt was living in fear that Linda might fall sick with whatever this was.

My midnight I was in a bad way. My grandmother put me in the bathroom and turned the shower on full blast in order to steam up the room. I don't remember much beyond feeling like being dead would be better than what I was experiencing. The upshot was that the steam exacerbated the itching I was having with the chicken pox, so all in all it was a bad night.

By morning the croup had "broken" so to speak, though I was still pretty ill. My grandmother made me a big mason jar full of warm whiskey, honey, and lemon juice to help the coughing, and tapioca to eat. That almost made the suffering worth it.

The State of our Union

2006-02-01T08:51:00.000-08:00

Today is DivaHusband's first day of unemployment and he is already driving me crazy. It started this morning with his languorous waking up ritual--he slowly removed his sleeping mask (a necessity when one has a DivaWife with an insomnia problem that only responds to hours of late night reading), opened his eyes, looked at me, tossed off the duvet, stretched, rolled around, stretched again, retrieved the duvet, closed his eyes and said "I don't have to get up, I'm not working."

To which Small Town Diva responded, "If you ever want me to sleep with you again, you'd better get up---right now." He hesitated just a bit too long for my liking, but he did finally emerge from the arms of Morpheus and traipsed downstairs with me for a cup of java and a planning session for his day.

It's now noon, and DivaHusband has called me a zillion times AND visited me at work. We agreed that he would NOT fall into bad habits, like sleeping in and watching ESPN all day, so he feels compelled to phone me each and every time he completes a task and adheres to his schedule. So far, he has called me to let me know:

1. He took DivaSon to school
2. He took DivaDog to the vet for her surgery
3. He answered his emails
4. He finished the political campaign expense report for the Professor
5. He drove the report to the county courthouse
6. He dropped his car off at the garage
7. He picked up my car to use for the day
8. He is meeting with someone for whom he is doing some consulting work.

If DivaHusband doesn't get another job soon, I may have to change my phone number.

Everybody's doing it.

2006-01-26T12:42:00.000-08:00

OK I got tagged by my friend Easy Jetsetter www.tabulas.com/~easyjetsetter who by the way is one of the most brilliant women I know and someone I hope will remember me and offer me the guest room at 10 Downing Street when she becomes the Prime Minister in 2025. It's funny that she is doing this---usually her posts are full of heavy duty intellectual discourse about the meaning of everything. On the other hand, she is a shoe queen, so she must have at least one pop culture gene in her.

Seven Things To Do Before I Die
1. Speak a foreign language (something besides Afrikkans or Trei) fluently
2. Find out the truth about Area 51
3 visit wherever it was that they filmed the temple scenes in Batman Begins
4. Get an honorary PhD
5. Build the "dream house" and live in it
6. Hold my grandchild
7. Meet an extraterrestrial

Seven Things I Cannot Do
1. Organic Chemistry
2. Eat if our guests aren't. (this happens a lot--people drop by at dinner, and I simply cannot go ahead and eat, even if they say it's OK--I JUST CAN"T DO IT.)
3. Pass by a lemonade stand without buying a glass.
4. Have guests sleep on the sofa
5. Grow my fingernails--they always break
6. Remember my natural hair color
7. Forget where I came from

3. .Seven Things That Attract Me to........American Idol
1. Watching people be really surprised that they can't sing--WHERE did they ever get the idea that they had a good voice?
2. Hearing Simon say "cowm-pe-tishun" in that clipped British accent
3. The Dawg Pound.
4. Waiting to see what T-Shirt Ryan is wearing tonight.
4. Paula's jewelry
5. Watching how much some of the contestants improve over time
6. Seeing a "real" person achieve her/his dreams
7. Seeing a TV show where there is an emphasis on talent and performance, rather than being raunchy and stabbing someone in the back to get ahead.

.Seven Things I Say
1. give me a minute...........
2. I can do that.
3. Let's go to the cottage this weekend.
4. How you feel and what you do are two different things.
5. What's up
6. Can I call you back on that?
7. I've already been to high school. (talking to DivaSon about why keeping up with his classes is his responsibility).

Seven favorite books (These change regularly)
1. Cold Mountain (read the book and skip the movie)
2. Memoirs of a Geisha (how did a guy write this?)
3. The Bible
4. The Purpose Driven Life
5. almost anything by Kaye Gibbons
6. ANYTHING by Orson Scott Card, my favorite all time author
7. close to everything by Pat Conroy

And a new category, seven people I would most like to meet, living or dead

1. Jesus Christ
2. Bono
3. Shaka Zulu
4. Osama Bin Laden
5. Ben Franklin
6. Mother Teresa
7. Joseph Smith

Not sure I like 2006 so far

2006-01-26T11:34:00.000-08:00

2006 is shaping up to be a very interesting year. It is the 25th day of the year and already:

A. The best damn co-worker I have EVER had has gotten a new job and will be giving her notice to TPTB as soon as the offer letter arrives.
B. DivaHusband will be unemployed by the end of the month--no new job yet.
C. The family is clamoring for a new puppy.

And so it goes.

Back from the Brink

2006-01-23T11:05:00.000-08:00

Wow, I didn't realize how long its been since I last posted. It seems a lifetime ago. And at the speed my life functions--IT WAS. So my dear friends, since I last visited with you:

Angelina has gotten pregnant with what will have to be either the world's most beautiful child or, if God has a sense of irony, a child with 46 recesssive chromosomes.
The Stardust space probe has returned with dust from the origins of time--I think I have some of that behind my sofa.
Osama has surfaced again--or at least some of his old tapes are still running
Bush and Congress are arguing again over something.

And I am blogging. Thank god.

AfricaBleu's "Seven things"

2005-12-09T14:53:00.000-08:00

AfricaBleu, on her blog, did a fun list that really spoke to me. SEVEN THINGS I WANT TO DO BEFORE I DIE. At one point, many years ago, I made a list similar to this when I was making some New Year's resolutions. Here are my top seven as of today--the first three are actually carryovers from that very first list I made 20 years ago., the other four change from time to time.

1. Visit every continent
2. Speak a foreign language fluently
3. See my children happily married and enjoying life
4. Go on safari in the Ngorogoro crater (I don't know if I spelled that right)
5. See the Shroud of Turin
6. Spend one holiday with my entire family, all at the same time, ALL OF THEM.
7. Meet intelligent life from another planet.

Life Changes

2005-12-09T07:25:00.000-08:00

Hi Everyone. I am experiencing the disorientation that comes from re-entry. I first experienced this phenom when I returned to the USA from an overseas living stint. I remember getting off the plane and passing a restaurant in the terminal. I was appalled at

A. How much food was on everyone's plate; and
B. How many people were eating with their HANDS.

I had just spent over two years in a country where knives and folks were de rigeour at McDonald's , and there was no such thing as SUPERSIZE or even LARGE.

As Thomas Wolfe said: You can't go home again.

The last three weeks have been overwhelming. My mother has been staying with us, and a week or so ago almost died due to undiagnosed diabetes. When we got her to the hospital her blood sugar levels were 22---the doctor told me he's amazed she survived.

Her recovery has consumed me. I have missed work and many so-called "mandatory" meetings. I have been trying to juggle my obligations, so I actually went to one meeting where I am an officer of the organization and really needed to be there. Halfway through the meeting I broke down and cried in front of my colleagues.

I realized last week that I am experiencing a life-changing time ---my perceptions are changing, my priorities are changing, and I am having one of those world changing experiences that comes to us only once or twice in our lives. I will share more soon, when I have a few minutes to write without interruption.

In the midst of everything, though, I have a still small voice that is keeping me steady. There is a place where calmness exists. The world around me is chaos, my mother being only one part of a bigger story. I am grateful that everything that's happening is bringing our family closer together, despite the pain and uncertainty.

Short note---mom is doing incredibly well all things considered.

Let's talk turkey

2005-11-23T10:08:00.000-08:00

To brine or not to brine, that is the question. I have a 23 pound turkey in my refrigerator whose fate rests on this question. Last year I brined my turkey and it was GREAT. This year, in the spirit of the new health consciousness in my household, I am revisiting that question.

As a former dietician, one would think that I would know just how much salt winds up in the flesh of a brined piece of meat. Given MountainMama's high blood pressure and water retention, I am trying to limit her sodium intake. So, that is why I have such a dilemma.

MountainMama is not the only one with special diet considerations. I have ten people eating Thanksgiving dinner. Here are my cooking parameters:

1. One only eats white meat---not a problem--with the bosom on this turkey, we can furnish white meat to the entire 82 airborne at Fort Bragg.
2. One is on the Atkins diet---so no carrots, twice stuffed potatoes, or stuffing, but turkey and green beans are ok, as long as I have light beer. Bring on the deviled eggs for this guy.
3. One is a vegetarian---so no turkey or deviled eggs, but everything else is OK except the stuffing that comes out of the turkey
4. One who wants ALL the twice stuffed potatoes---I have DivaSon on potato patrol to be sure BeachDiva doesn't hog the most highly prized dish on the table.
5. One who just wants lots of everything---done, I have cooked enough for 20 in order to feed 10
6. One with high blood pressure--hence my question above
7. One who is just grateful to have his stomach filled. I love cooking for him. He is my leftover clean up guy.

I'm excited about this year's meal. We are heading off to DivaHusband's mother---who, for her 98th birthday last week took a motorcycle ride with one of DivaHusband's good friends. I'm cooking while she spends time with her loved ones. I am so excited everyone can make it.

I hope you all enjoy this special time with your families and friends. And let me know about that brining question.

Walk the Line

2005-11-22T17:14:00.000-08:00

Go see it. PLEASE.

Talking to the Opposition

2005-11-22T16:40:00.000-08:00

Last week I had a lunch appointment with a local journalist who couldn't be more diametrically oppposed to my own political bent. This guy has wielded his pen throughout the election cycle vilifying "my favorite organization -- aka MFO--" (of which I am a member and officer), as well as my candidate, the Professor. Journalist is probably the nexus of the idea espoused by at least one of our town officials that business profits are filthy lucre and for-profit entities should be banned from our fair streets.

So I called up the chap and informed him that this small town diva would like to invite him to a lunch discussion about why-he-is-so-rabidly-anti-business-and anti-favorite-organization. After a few reschedules, we had our lunch.

The lunch proved my general hunch that it is far more difficult to have a tart tongue than a tart pen. It was quite pleasant actually. Journalist and I had a very cordial discussion of where he's coming from, where I am coming from, and if there are any points of connection. (Well I think we both live in the same town--I guess that's a connection.)

Far more importantly, I think the lunch invitation surprised him. I'm not sure most people in these parts voluntarily associate with people who have differing opinions from themselves, all talk of diversity aside. As I told him, I think talking only to "yes men" isn't very productive if a person is trying to build a consensus or formulate opinions on complex issues. In my book, if you are trying to get something accomplished, some of your first conversations need to be with key community skeptics.

We have a very segregationist mentality in this town when it comes to the world of ideas. Some of our most outspoken citizens proudly report that they haven't had a conversation with a Republican, or a business owner, or a representative of a very large key government entity nearby, in YEARS. And my question is---WHY ARE YOU PROUD OF THAT???? Why do you think it is noble to cocoon yourselves with like minded individuals who do not challenge you?

One of the most fundamental precepts of war is studying the enemy. One of the most powerful tools for change is communication and the free flow of information.

One of the most powerful ways to build community is to start acting like one. Talking to people who are different from you is a good way to start. We spend thousands of dollars busing children around this community in the name of diversity because we believe that daily contact is the way to break down barriers between cultures. Spending a few bucks to eat lunch with someone totally different from yourself might be just as good an investment.

Powerful medicine

2005-11-21T14:16:00.000-08:00

God is doing an amazing work in this recalcitrant soul. As I spend time with my mother, I find myself surrendered and at peace to what is, and to what might lie ahead. I am not so angry, not so frustrated, not so reluctant at the role of caretaker my mother needs right now. As I have relaxed and just accepted the circumstances, I find that I am actually having a GOOD TIME with my mother!

What a gift! One example--mother (maybe we need to give her a name--hmm....how does MountainMama sound? ) DivaDaughter, and I spent an evening talking about some memories MM had about me as a little girl. As MM told DD these stories, and as I chirped in, I was suddenly awash with so many memories of my mother's delight in me, so many times that the pride she felt shone from her face-----when I won a statewide oratorical contest, when I was seated in the all-state orchestra, when I competed well at the Miss______ Junior Miss pageant. (yep there was a moment of insanity when I contemplated being a Beauty Queen Diva, rather than a Small Town Diva).

Anyway, I suddenly REALLY REMEMBERED those looks of pride, those smiles that came from my mama, and I was overwhelmed with emotion. (I am crying now even as I write this). It is so good to remember the love and not just the hurt.

I am so sad to think about how close I came to not reconnecting with those memories. I don't think it would have happened if MM were not here with me right now. It is in those moments of service----helping her in and out of bed, up and down the stairs, and so many other things---that my heart has softened.

My gut tells me that we are entering the long kiss good-bye--------I know MM won't recover, her lungs are so badly damaged. Given the tremendous compulsions that hold sway over her life and cause her to continue to damage her body, I doubt we will even see a great deal of physical improvement.

And perhaps that's not the goal God has in mind for this time she and I have together. Though we know of several examples where Jesus healed the sick, a more important purpose of His coming was to heal the soul and reconcile us to Himself and the Father. I'm beginning to realize just how much of that healing I really need.

I don't know what to do

2005-11-16T12:24:00.000-08:00

I miss my morning blogging. Hope to be back to it soon. Keep my mother in your prayers, she is currently with me after a short hospital stay. She's declining so quickly. . It is hard to reconcile this frail person with my memories of her as a vigorous and yes, somewhat intimidating woman. Now she just seems weak and scared.

My daughter just called and said Mom is shaking, woozy, and spinning. I hope she didn't eat any of the cookies my son made. Part of the difficulty in helping her is how hard it is for her to control her urges. She is now a type II diabetic, and has been told not to eat any sweets. For my mother, this is almost a prison sentence. She has always had a tremendous sweet tooth and very little control over her cravings. Yet last night I saw her trying to convince my son to give her some ice cream and some of the chocolate chips cookies he made. When I asked her about it, she denied it, yet not 10 minutes later was trying to get him to "sneak" her some cookies. He felt awkward, and I felt conflicted---he shouldn't have to be the sugar police for his grandmother.

Same with the smoking. She's begging my daughter not to tell me she's smoking while I am at work, while at the same time assuring me that she hasn't had a cigarette in a week. I thought we left all the cigarettes at her home, but she must have managed to smuggle some down here in her bags of medication or oxygen tubing.

It must be so hard to be so controlled by one's urges, to have them overwhelm you so much to the point that you knowingly do things that will hurt you and just can't seem to stop

And Mom, don't you understand that lying to me about what you are doing isn't the point? It doesn't matter what I think, at this stage what you are doing hurts YOU. Pretending you didn't eat the cookies when you did doesn't make your insulin response to them change. It just makes it harder for us to know what is wrong with you and how to help you.

Responsibility doesn't expire

2005-11-09T10:07:00.000-08:00

Here's a piece I wrote a couple of years ago. Given the happenings of the last 48 hours in my family, it is still quite relevant. My mother is right now in the emergency room of her local hospital and it appears that she is going to need some serious care and intervention.

__________________
My cousins and I recently spent a bittersweet weekend together, discussing how to best provide end of life care for my favorite uncle. A lifetime of heavy cigarette smoking and dusty work conditions has finally caught up with him, and his lungs can no longer support the basic functions of daily living.

We made a care plan for him that included a part time companion to help him clean his house, cook his meals, and take him to and from his many doctors' appointments. We agreed to split the cost of this caregiver, and left for our homes confident and assured of having my uncle's needs met.

When I mentioned this plan to one of my friends, she looked at me with surprise and suggested that we instead look to Medicaid or Medicare to pay for this companion. I explained that Medicare did not pay for this type of care, since my uncle is medically stable, and that my uncle did not financially qualify for Medicaid.

My friend then proceeded to explain how we could transfer my uncle's assets into other people's names and make him appear financially eligible for Medicaid She even offered me the name of a private "Medicaid counselor" who specializes in helping families with too many assets qualify for Medicaid!

My friend was only suggesting to me what thousands of other American citizens do every day. Somehow in this country we've abdicated any personal responsibility to financially provide for our own care or that of our loved ones. Instead, we hide assets, play accounting games and shift the burden of our care to other people's children instead of expecting assistance from our own. We've even made navigating the qualification process a profitable profession for the new breed of private "Medicaid counselors!"

Whatever happened to the pride and self-sufficiency of my grandparents' generation?

I remember my grandmother politely telling my first-grade teacher that, no, I did not need a free lunch. We probably did qualify financially, but my grandmother felt that feeding me was her responsibility, not the government's. She had the same answer for the home health agency that called to offer Medicaid services to my grandfather before his death.

She told them, correctly I might add, that our family would cover my grandfather's care needs and if we needed help we would let them know. Our entire family took turns helping with his personal care, and those of us who couldn't be there physically sent money to hire outside help. When my grandfather died, my grandmother refused our money and instead sold five acres of her land to pay for my grandfather's funeral.

Our children do not have some inherent right to inherit our assets. The assets we accumulate are there to take care of ourselves for as long as possible. We all hope to pass along something to the next generation, but to do so by disingenuously playing the accounting game is immoral and unfair.

Medicaid should be reserved only for those people who genuinely have no other resources. Every other American should accept personal financial responsibility for his or her own care. To do any less is cheating.

election update.

2005-11-09T07:35:00.000-08:00

FYI---The Professor won, Fuzzy lost, and I had a great time at the Mayor's election party.

Sleeping with the Enemy?

2005-11-04T15:55:00.000-08:00

I've decided I don't understand politics. This is the first year I have ventured into the tar pit, slime ball, deal making, back room that is local politics, and I confess that I have apparently made a major misstep. It occurred because I am trying to out-scheme professional politicians. Take my advice, friends, it can't be done.

Readers may remember my previous post about Fuzzy Wuzzy. He is a candidate for a local town seat. He was dismissive of an important local organization that is near and dear to my heart during some of his public appearances.

Well, Fuzzy Wuzzy (FW) and I had a nice talk. We made up. He assured me that he understood my organization's goals and was not in major conflict with some of them. I believed him. I made a small campaign donation to him.

All hell has broken loose. Another candidate, (we'll call him the PROFESSOR) whom I have supported far more substantially than FW, is furious with me, because he says that FW is gunning for HIS seat, and by also supporting FW, I have sent a mixed message to the people that support him, the Professor. I reminded the Professor that the community has several open slots on its local board, and by definition, it's not an either/or between him and FW. It is conceivable that both the Professor and FW might wind up on that Board.

The Professor and FW don't like each other. Does that mean that I can't support them both?

For the record, I support the Professor because I think he does his homework, he is reasonably openminded, very accessible to the voters, works very hard, and he is a moderate voice on what is an exceptionally left leaning Town Board. He's philosophically the closest to my own views, which isn't saying much since he still has a McGovern Sticker on his bicycle. He's under attack because is isn't a one-trick pony, and because he has------GASP-------changed his mind on a couple of issues after getting more information about them. Apparently a change of heart is a major problem if you are a politician, because a politician is not supposed to be confused by the facts.

My support of FW is more complicated and convoluted, and herein is where my political logic is probably flawed. I think FW is going to win a seat. If the Professor loses, there will be no one on the Town Board who has the least bit of goodwill toward my organization. I think I have the tiniest window of opportunity to have the ear of FW because we have cleared the air. My donation is my way of saying----remember that I listened to you one time, so be sure you listen to me down the road. I think we have a decent foundation upon which to develop the ability to talk to each other. And if the Professor wins, I might be able to help cobble together enough votes (if FW also wins) to actually get a few of our organization's major goals accomplished for the upcoming year. After talking to him, I realize that FW might be the swing vote.

I just re-read this and realize I am WATCHING TOO MUCH WEST WING. Somebody cut me off.

Oh well, I am really sorry that the Professor is upset. I like him. He just has to understand that I am not monogamous when it comes to politics. I've always heard it makes strange bedfellows. Surely a liberal community understands that alternative lifestyle.

When Worlds Collide

2005-11-01T08:16:00.000-08:00

Observed on my way to work this morning at 7:30. :

Five deer run past a gang of children waiting for the school bus in broad daylight (thanks to the time change!). One of them actually collides with a young girl, maybe 7 or 8 years old, who is trudging to the bus stop, walking with her head down looking at her feet. The deer knocks her to the ground. She gets up and shrieks with delight once she realizes she has had a close encounter with the deer. The children are jumping up and down with glee. The deer is long gone.

Monday Morning Chit Chat

2005-10-31T05:55:00.000-08:00

One would think that an extra hour of sleep would help me start off Monday bright eyed and bushy tailed. Not so. My eyes are gritty with the sands of Morpheus and I am sitting here yawning. I am also nursing a HUGELY sore right shoulder, probably from my repeated attempts to crank every powertool we own over the weekend.

My fatigue and sore muscles come from all the yard work we did on Saturday. DivaHusband and I marshalled the troops and, using a Total Resource Campaign, transformed our palatial estate in a all-out assault on vegetative anarchy.

It was not the right weekend to stop by and say hello. ApprenticeDiva came by to visit, and got drafted to hack down vines. DivaSon's buddy, TwinBoy, came over to play an XBox John Madden 2005 football game and was quickly handed a leafblower and put to work blowing off the driveway. Our Friend BeachBoy rode by to say hello, and, having had some previous experience with the Diva Family Work Frenzy Selective Service Draft Process, recognized the symptoms and quickly got the hell outta Dodge before HE got conscripted.

In all truth, we have a great time when we do work this way. We get a lot done and then we eat a great meal and enjoy the fatigue that comes from doing a good day's work. Working so hard earns us all a guilt-free pass into idleness.

Unfortunately, it has probably earned Small Town Diva a trip to the chiropractor as well.

Just another Friday at the office.

2005-10-28T15:43:00.000-07:00

My abs are sore. The consulting Divas have just had a fun Friday that involved belly-dancing, cheerleading, Chinese Food, hangovers, and flirting. All in a good day's work, I say.

Let me back up. BlondeDiva, our single, charming, youthful staff member, (well there is another single, charming, youthful staff member, but more about her another time) has worked for us for the past few months while contemplating that question all recent college grads ask---"What job can I possibly do that will pay me six figures, allow me to have frequent two hour martini lunches, and require regular trips to Paris?" BlondeDiva is a charming and wonderful young woman and one we knew we would not keep long. We have this problem, you see----our clients keep hiring our employees, and BlondeDiva is no exception.

Today was her last day with us before joining her new firm. We were determined to make her last hours with us memorable for her. It started yesterday when Small Town Diva dragged Blonde Diva to an after hours business meeting, with the sole purpose of introducing her to "gainfully- employed-young-men- who- have- their- own-cars-and-do-not-live-with-their-fraternity-brothers." This is a major step up for BlondeDiva, who heretofore has dated men who have to borrow the fraternity's emergency beer funds to pay for bus fare to the nearest McDonald's for a hot evening out. As a young professional, Blonde Diva needs to expand her peer group. I thought this event would help her make some new friends. I was right.

I left the meeting at 6:45. Apparently BlondeDiva, with several gainfully employed, attractive young male car owners in tow, closed down the party at 10 pm and moved it to another locale, where she held court until the wee hours. She had on her happy face this morning, but I personally bet that underneath that smile was perhaps the ever-so-slight fuzzy head that comes from a weekday outing that includes a drink or two. Later in the morning a couple of those new male BFF's (Best Friends Forever) checked in with BlondeDiva to recap the evening's events. A great start. I LOVE matchmaking.

And today ApprenticeDiva and I ordered BlondDiva her favorite Chinese food and presented her with some small tokens of our affection. One of those was a belly-dancing kit. Those cymbals are WAY COOL. SeniorDiva (our oldest colleague) read out the directions while we worked on our ab rolls, (in my case, that is a double entendre) head slides, and sultry stares. Mostly I just worked on making sure my knees didn't blow out and minimizing the cracking noises from my creaky joints.

We also worked on our cheerleading moves---don't ask me why, it is a very long story. We are all graduates of the same Alma Mater and ApprenticeDiva wanted to be sure we could appropriately cheer our team to victory this weekend. All I need now is a ponytail and some pompoms and I am ready to go.

We had a great day. Those Designing Women, Desperate Housewives, and Sex in the City chicks would envy us. Our office is the BEST.

We are really going to miss BlondeDiva. She brought such a sweet spirit and fresh aura to our office. We wish her well though. Pretty soon she'll be making enough money to buy US lunch and belly dancing stuff. Blondie, I want a tambourine from one of those Parisian gypsies.

The Fire Alarm

2005-10-27T16:27:00.000-07:00

The fire alarm went off today. The four consulting Divas looked at each other and wondered if we should evacuate the building. The last fire alarm we had put us on the concrete tarmac in front of the building in 100 degree weather for almost an hour, until the firefighters came out, fire helmets askew and hatchets dangling carelessly from their hands, to tell us that a cat or a mouse or a cockroach or something had accidentally set off the alarm. Meantime, the glow we Divas started out with turned into a rag-wringing, forehead dripping event. We were not glowing. We were SWEATING like DivaPigs.

Well, it's definitely cooler outside now, that we know. We're unlikely to have a repeat of the concrete Sahara we experienced a few months ago. So, we glanced at each other, looked at our messy desks, and the decision was made.

"Well, after 9-11 I am not taking any chances."
"You never know--we can't risk it."
"We really need to take this seriously."
"I need to go to lunch anyway."

So, we packed up our purses, cell phones, keys, chocolate stashes, business cards, lipstick, hand cream, and family photos and headed down the back stairs. APPRENTICE DIVA (ed. note: there, Caroline, are you happy now?see comments) , ever the business type, picked up a few important business papers that, had we lost, would have caused all hell to break out with some of our clients. SHE is saving our asses---the rest of us are thinking about how we can parlay this little event into an afternoon off.

We stood outside and wondered---is it real, or is it Memorex? Then we heard the sirens.

The fire truck showed up, and the firefighters poured out. "Why don't they send some good looking firemen over here?" single, young BlondeDiva asked. "They always send the oldest guys they have!"

They tromped into the building. A few minutes later, some bald dude in a blue shirt starts waving everyone back inside. "Who the hell is he?" (Junior)APPRENTICE Diva asks. "I need to see some credentials before I trust HIM to tell me that everything is ok." (we do have a few psychotherapists in this building who have some very strange patients.)

We finally decided to return to work. So here I am. We still don't know why they don't send the goodlooking firefighters to our building. Maybe it's because we don't have any damsels in distress.

Looking for love in all the wrong places

2005-10-27T16:16:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I wrapped my arms around one of my "heart children," a former member of the Church youth group I led, and held her close as she cried over the breakup of her marriage. As too many of us do, she married a fantasy, and that was great until she woke up and saw the flesh and blood guy behind the image.

They met online--the 21 century's version of meeting in a bar---and though they corresponded for almost two years in a long distance relationship, and got together several times for visits, they really didn't know each other, and recent events bear out that most of their relationship has been based on fiction and lies.

Which got me to thinking---what advice will I give my own children when they start considering a potential life partner? What experiences do I think it important to share before you're married, what things should someone talk about, what do you need to know before you take that important step?

There are lots of obvious ones---talk about whether you want kids, talk about how you use money, blah blah blah----but sometimes I think it's the things you learn about your date when you don't think you're really learning anything that are so significant and telling. So I would encourage couples who are considering whether this one is THE ONE to do some of the following things together:

go grocery shopping
help remodel somebody's kitchen or at least go pick out light fixtures
go to an office party
look at each other's checkbooks and credit card bills
babysit a friend's child
wash a dog
go to a doctors appointment
clean a bathroom
cook dinner
spend an entire weekend with the other one's family--by yourself
double date

It is those kinds of experiences that allow you to see your loved one living life----seeing how they make decisions, how they react to stress, what they value. Those are the things that you will live with every day with your spouse. Not pretty words, not stomach flutters, and not fantasies.

I am so sorry for my friend. She has a very difficult path ahead of her.

Which Sci Fi Character are YOU?

2005-10-26T12:16:00.000-07:00

I found this on my buddy Thomas' website and couldn't resist. I love Science Fiction/Fantasy, with two of my favorite authors being Orson Scott Card ( a brilliant writer if ever there was one) and Isaac Asimov. I was actually quite surprised at the character I popped up with when I took this survey. I would have SO preferred being Princess Leia.

http://www.tk421.net/character/

Wonder if my friends could predict who I turned up to be?

Carbs help me feel the love

2005-10-26T10:42:00.000-07:00

Well the South Beach Diet is history, having lasted just slightly longer than the last 24 stomach virus I had, and with about as much welcome. I HATED that diet. I felt like a cow chewing cud with all that salad and stuff.

Now it's back to the joi d' vivre---since Monday I have consumed some of my favorite things, among them:

Pork Chops
A Chimichanga
Stir Fry with Rice
Sweet Tarts
Orange Juice
Milk

Of course, my pants are just an eensy weensy bit tight, but I attribute that to the incredible abdominal six pack I have developed over those same three days as I have bent over to retrieve my napkin from the floor.

I am in a GREAT mood.

2005-10-21T06:31:00.000-07:00

OK, I am trying to learn how to put images in my blog, since several of my blog advisors have informed me that my blog looks boring. This is a picture of Hunter.

Do South Beach girls really eat that stuff?

2005-10-19T15:31:00.000-07:00

I am three days into the South Beach diet and CRANKY. I never realized how much I ate that is supposedly catapulting me to a heart attack and totally firing up those insulin resistors so that my fat cells are bulging, unable to utilize all that potential energy stored in them. My cells must be so messed up that they can't distinguish an insulin infusion from a blood transfusion, because folks, this diet is NOT how I normally eat.

I was a public health nutrition major in college (yes really) and I maintained a perfect size 6 until the age of (Ed, note: censored). Then the pounds crept on. I am not overweight according to the Metropolitan Life height-weight charts, However, I have about 10-15 pounds (or an equivalent number of inches) that I would like to get rid of so I can continue to clothe myself in the beautiful (and expensive) designer clothes I invested in when I upgraded my job title from "Senior Vice-President in charge of Money and (re) Production in the Household" (SVP, rMPH) to "Senior Vice-President in charge of Business Success by Maximizing Business Assets " (SVP, BS, MBA).

About this same time DivaHusband decided he wanted to lose a few pounds too. Unlike me, DivaHusband has had a lifelong battle with his weight. He could drop about 30 pounds and be just right. (Although I think he's s mighty fine AS IS).

The problem is that DivaHusband and I have a major difference of opinion when it comes to dieting. My plan is to eat smaller portions, cut out desserts, and exercise more. His plan is to find the absolute most unappetizing and painful diet plan out there, and follow it to the letter. I think he' s convinced that martyrdom burns calories.

So I wanted to make up a wonderful customized diet using the skills I paid $40K for and never earned a penny with in the job market. BUT NO. DivaHusband insisted on a DIET PUBLISHED IN A BOOK, because it takes the guesswork out of it, and he knows what to fix if I am arriving home late, and it meets his masochistic need to torture himself. He wanted Atkins. I wanted the How to Lose Weight Consuming Wine, Pasta, Bread, and Thai Food (Author, Small Town Diva publication pending)....

We settled on South Beach. It looked pretty reasonable measured against my 198o's nutrition training. NOT.

Some things I've discovered during the South Beach Diet's s Two Week Start-up Meal Plan:

Mashed Cauliflower is a watery, gritty subsitute for Garlic Mashed Potatoes.
Orange Roughy is a FISH, not a slushy or something to improve one's elimination.
A sixteen year old football player can eat an entire extra large pizza by himself while his parents stare hungrily at him.
The dogs do not like Ricotta Vanilla Dessert.
It is possible to dream an entire night about Spaghetti Bolognaise.
Those South Beach girls have earned their whistles.

Girls gone Wild at the Citadel

2005-10-17T07:44:00.000-07:00

There’s the south, and then there’s "THE SOUTH." Small Town Diva, family in tow, visited the SOUTH this past weekend---we spent a weekend at the Citadel.

The Citadel, for all of you Yankees who live outside the boundaries of the Confederacy and who have never read “The Lords of Discipline,” is a military college located in Charleston, SC. It was founded in 1842 to “train men to be citizen soldiers and serve the military in times of need,” except that now it trains men AND WOMEN, thanks to the ACLU and Shannon Faulkner, who had her 15 minutes of fame before sucumbing to the vapors at drills during Hell Week and going back to the comforts of Krispy Kreme doughnuts and regular pedicures. The real women of the Citadel do not like Shannon Faulkner. Their heroine is Nancy May, the first woman to graduate from the Citadel and a true Citadel cadet.

My Citadel heroine is our friend’s daughter, Girlygirl, whom we went to see this weekend. Now, personally I cannot fathom why a young woman who looks so pretty in pink would even want to attend a college where an upperclassman’s favorite pastimes are perfecting his rifle twirling and screaming at freshman to “give me 100." But Girlygirl knew from the age of 5 that she was Citadel material, her gender not withstanding. She has prepared for this experience for years—she has repeatedly hazed her older sister with small reptiles, and has lined up her 50 pairs of shoes with military precision since puberty.

Girlygirl has claimed her birthright. She is a ranking officer with a 3.85 GPA, 12% body fat, an 8-mile a day runner, and fashion consultant to the young female cadets who follow her. (Her best advice---Gap has cute white ‘regulation’ thongs that hold up very well at the campus laundry and give one a seamless rear view.)

My family doesn’t have a military tradition, mainly because we have birthed women for the past 70 years. So it has been with great interest that I have visited the Citadel over the past few years and soaked in the culture of military service.

The pageantry is impressive. The cadets, clothed in their gray/blue uniforms, cut an amazing presence as they parade in formation during event weekends. The bagpipe corps, many of whom did not have the lung capacity to whistle Dixie, much less play a bagpipe, before attending the Citadel, lead the cadets in during drill.

During football season, all cadets attend every home game and march into the stadium in formation. The freshman stand up during the entire game, except for those few who succumb to the Charleston heat and topple over, revived by upperclassman, ice bags in hand, who are specially designated as first responders to the fallen. A Citadel touchdown is celebrated with freshman diplays of strength---pushups--- and by firing the cannon, which has been dragged into the stadium by freshman knobs, fondly called MULES by their handlers. GirlyGirl was a mule her freshman year and credits it as being the best butt firming exercise ever.

There are many aspects of the Citadel’s culture. There is the deep commitment that most of its graduates have to integrity, God, and country. And yes, there is the dark side so vividly spoken of by Pat Conroy. Girlygirl has seen that side too. She has been harassed by male cadets who see her presence as the disintegration of the Citadel’s noble history and standards. She has been hazed. She has been tested to her limits, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. But she has endured. And today she wears the Citadel ring, just like her father and Pat Conroy do. It looks great next to her French manicure.

Fun and Frolics in Politics

2005-10-12T19:59:00.000-07:00

Well, friends, nothing perks up Small Town Diva like a good duel of the wits. We recently had a candidate forum for the candidates for our Town Board. It was sponsored by one of our local civic organizations. It is consistently one of the top two most influential town groups in the community , the other being of course, an environmental group, or some neighborhood conservation group, or the local Communist Party---just depends on the year and who is able to snag the attention of the press.

This group also holds the distinction of being the "organization I most love to hate" for a few of the candidates for Town Board. However, since it is a broadly representative organization in town, all the candidates had to participate in this forum, despite their obvious discomfort with the host. it was the first event, I think, that all the candidates attended.

The moderator did a very good job. One thing we have in this town is a highly educated and bright population. Every candidate knew his/her stuff and most of the answers were quite substantive. Even if I didn't agree with some positions, I can definitely say that everyone had done his homework. The candidates discussed affordable housing, neighborhood preservation, environmental protection, and petting kitties (just kidding).

Then the boom lowered. The moderator asked MY question.

***Editor's note----small town diva's good friend, who is liberal, has suggested that in order not to offend the delicate sensibilities of some of my readers, I should not repeat the question verbatim. However, it involved asking the candidates about their commitment to the health of the business community and included the words "sales tax" and "commercial." ***

WELL WELL WELL, the fur started flying. Apparently the words "commercial" and "sales tax" have some pornographic connotation of which I am unaware, or at least are code words to activate the Manchurian Candidate. The mayor started talking about everything he's done to support the unique (i.e slim pickins and pricey) shopping environment of our town, an incumbent enumerated the 20 million dollars of commercial property that finally got approved after being held up in committee for a 3 year review( while the clock is ticking on the construction loan) , and a challenger started shouting about how she's said all along that we need to stop building houses and start building a few Wal-Marts around here.

The moderator commented on the spirited discussion and said that he appreciated the question being asked, because it was obviously an issue the candidates wanted to weigh in on. This was a question every candidate wanted to answer (the format was that a few were forced to answer and the rest could answer if they chose to) and in fact most of the candidates answered the question three or four times for emphasis. But the best answer of the night came from FuzzyWuzzy, who stated something like this:

------That sounds like a question (your stupid organization) would ask. (roll eyes, guffaw, wink, sigh). Next question. -------

Guess what Fuzzy. You just dissed the business community that helps pay for the amenities our citizens enjoy. Try running us off and balancing the town budget on the back of homeowners. Increase their taxes 70% and you might find that those constituents aren't too happy with your cute response.

That is, if you get elected. .

Blue Wednesday

2005-10-12T13:40:00.000-07:00

I'm having writer's block. So much is going on in my life, in my head, right now, that you would think I would be flooded with words to share. Yet I found myself almost mute.

Some of my "tongue-tiedness" I am sure is because some of what is going on in my life is conjuring up such long standing issues from my own past. It is very personal and I don't do well being so open about those things. . Many of the people I know would be surprised by that statement, because I do a very good job of 'appearing' to be open without actually doing so. I can talk about the less than wonderful things going on in my life, or my shortcomings, or my 'dysfunctions' but what I don't talk about much is the deep feelings inside that those things stir up.

Fear, inadequacy, and guilt chain themselves to my leg, even as strength, competence, and acceptance lift me up. Sometimes inside I feel like an imposter, even as I live into successes and love.

As I get older, I see so strongly how the experiences we have at a very young age are so powerful. I wish there were some way to impress this fact on prospective parents. It is INCREDIBLY important that you are reasonably mentally healthy and ready to have children before you do.

Having a child cannot help you slay your demons. A child cannot help you grow up. A child's job is not to make you feel better about yourself. A child cannot help you get your life straightened out.

In my own case, I am really grateful that, despite my own parents' shortcomings, I had wonderful grandparents and an aunt and uncle who loved me and provided a lot of stability. They gave me another message about myself---that I was lovable, wanted, smart, wonderful, and capable. Their messages counterbalanced the painful messages from my biological parents that I was not wanted and had messed up everyone's lives.

So I vascillate in my internal dialogue. Sometimes I have trouble deciding which set of voices to believe. Right now is one of those times when all I hear is noise.

Gray Days

2005-10-12T11:58:00.000-07:00

The weather has changed here almost overnight. The sticky muggy heat of the summer has now been replaced by cooler mornings that smell fresh. We're getting rain, and the cloud cover casts a gray pall over our town.

For some members of my family, life is gray too. DivaHusband, who suffers when the sunlight declines, spent Columbus Day in bed till late in the morning, and then mounted a shopping expedition that ended in frustration and a sense that he had wasted his time. His mood this past week or so has mirrored the gradual decline of the sun. He missed his Christian men's small group last night because he could not muster the energy to go. He was desperately ready for bed at 8 o clock, but stayed up until 9, when he finally ran out of steam.

DivaDaughter took off back to college with a medical withdrawal request in her hand and an appointment for a full psychiatric workup to help us figure out how to best treat the incredible anxiety and depression that has brought my beautiful, intelligent, charming child to the verge of breakdown. She spent her fall break in daily consultation with her wonderful therapist, who helped her make this decision. She left relieved, but feeling a lingering sense of failure because she can't seem to enjoy and function in a college lifestyle, while many of her friends are thriving and happier than ever.

It tears my heart out to see the people I love struggling so. I don't know what I can do to help them. I get anxious myself when I can't make things better. It is the hardest thing ever to realize that the best I can do is to simply be present and available to them while they make this journey through the valley of the shadow.

I am a DOer, not a BE er. I cope with my own emotions by exercising, reading self help books, volunteering, and cleaning house obsessively or doing other things obsessively. . I medicate with busyness, with filling up my brain and my time to squeeze out the sadness and pain. I don't want to be alone with my feelings.

DivaDaughter and DivaHusband cope with their own by slowing down, cutting out the "busyness" from their lives, getting contemplative, and sleeping. They spend time alone with their sadness. Their medication is the bliss of unconsciousness.

Thankfully, the curse of DivaFamily DNA seems to have passed over DivaSon. He has lots of friends and a generally happy disposition in life. He helps perk the rest of us up.
We're looking forward to a bright autumn weekend, when we travel out of town with friends. I'm told the sun will be shining where we're going. God knows it isn't shining here right now.

Diva's Dogs

2005-10-07T13:16:00.000-07:00

There are really two groups coexisting under my roof---humans and the dogs who love them. Sometimes it is difficult for me to determine who is actually in charge, us or them.

Right now we’re at a ratio of 1.33 (**recalculated 10-8-05) humans per dog, which is good, because Hunter gives out more love than one person can absorb. He is the child DivaHusband and I might have birthed, had we been so inclined. At six weeks of age, little blondie came to live with us. He slept on our pillow and we woke him up at least twice a night for over six months to “pee him” as my son says. It is inconceivable to Hunter that someone might not want a big slobbery kiss or to be jumped on and greeted at the door. He is perfectly well adjusted. Rejection, depression, loneliness---those feelings have never been part of his life paradigm. He rides everywhere with DivaHusband, and now DivaSon, as they run errands or generally loaf off. DivaSon says Hunter is a “babe magnet,” even more so than DivaSon himself.

Lizzie is the scrappy castaway my stepdaughter (hereinafter known as BeachDiva) coaxed out of a ditch on the side of the major thoroughfare . She immediately became the alpha dog upon entering our home. Lizzie has a strange “posture thing going”---she has the flexibility of a walrus and often leans back over herself to get petted. I’ll try to post a picture of this, because I have NEVER seen another dog do this. She can contort her body into impossible positions, perhaps a result of fitting into strange places to sleep or hide when she was a stray.

Elliott is the canine Buddha. Calm, with deep, dreamy brown eyes. My blood pressure goes down 10 points just by petting him. He looks like a combination Corgi and Shepherd. His body is stout, his legs thin and short, his tailed curled. We don’t know how old he is—we got him at the animal shelter---but his soul is ancient. I like him because he’s the only one of our dogs that considers me the pack leader. He won’t listen to a thing my husband says, but faithfully and effortlessly obeys me.

And I cannot write about my dogs without writing about DIVADOG---Cleo. Cleo died in April at the ripe age of 14, but graced our house with her wit and love up to the end. Cleo was a red Doberman that SMILED. REALLY. She would pull back those lips and greet all our visitors with a big grin. Cleo had the most kissable nose of any dog, ever. She also liked to play practical jokes on the family---she would move our shoes from one room to another and hide small articles of clothing under the furniture. Cleo nursed me through my divorce and soaked up gallons of tears in her fur. She also celebrated my remarriage and was an honored guest at our wedding reception. Cleo wore her purple rhinestone collar for the occasion and held court at my side.
.
And that Cleo, she loved me and took care of me to the end. When it became obvious that her tired, cancer ridden body was failing, I knew I had to put her down. She spared me that awful moment by dying peacefully in her sleep after eating a large bowl of warm cake and sweet ice cream. She laid down beside my side of the bed on her warm soft blanket, and when I woke up the next morning, she was still and cold. And very peaceful.

It is impossible for me to consider life without dogs. Our king size bed would be so lonely without them in it. Our carpets wouldn't look right without the dog hair. And our windows just wouldn't be the same without doggie nose prints on them.

Communists don't know this

2005-10-05T08:53:00.000-07:00

I belong to a discussion group that regularly talks about local political issues. I'm not sure how I managed to horn my way into this community, given that I am far more conservative than anyone else involved. I must be the token , their nod to diversity.

I knew it was a liberal group when I started participating, but I am now realizing that I am in deeply uncharted and foreign territory. Even growing up with Democratic father in academia did not prepare me for this group of FAR FAR left liberals. I came home the other night and whispered to my husband---"I think I am consorting with communists. "

Fortunately fraternizing with communists is no longer illegal, but they are still wrong. I cannot believe some of the nonsense aired at this forum, some of the more notable nonsense as follows:

Charging interest should be illegal.
Businesses are greedy and should be required to be non-profit.
Landlords are filthy, money grubbing people who tie up housing so people can't afford to own homes.
The accumulation of wealth is bad and the stock market is the worst.
The government needs to do X, as long as X=liberal. (sorry for the algebra).

So, here are some responses to some of the more absurd comments I have heard in this group lately.

Point 1. The profit motive drives innovation, creativity, customer service, and efficiency. Those are GOOD things for our society. When you lose the profit motive, you level out at the lowest common denominator, rather than rising to the highest possibilities.

Point 2. Building wealth means you can provide for your own needs and you are not at the mercy of other people to decide for you what you need. We should encourage people to plan for the future by saving money and growing their assets.

Point 3. The stock market ensures that the average person can participate in the success of large companies and actually increases accountability within most organizations. Also, expecting to borrow money from someone without paying interest is just stupid. Would you loan me your car for as long as I want it without requiring some kind of compensation?

Point 4. People who own rental housing are providing many people with the preferred and the most economically feasible solution to their housing needs. The fact that a landlord might make a dollar doesn't negate that fact.

Point 5. Heavily centralized economic planning (i.e communism, socialism) has been a huge failure and encourages corruption. Remember the USSR, East Germany, the Belgian Congo, and Mao's China. It is the height of arrogance to assume that a few people know what is best for the many.

There is a natural and healthy role for government to play in regulating and moderating the "way out there" consequences of a completely unfettered marketplace on both ends of the bell curve. But I for one, do not want the politicos in Washington to decide what two paint choices I have for the one brand of car I can buy when it is determined by some bureaucrat a thousand miles away that I need one (a la East Germany) or what size house I can occupy (USSR) or how many children I can have (China).

Call me crazy. They sure do.

Harriet Mier, Civics, our Rights and the Ordinary Guy

2005-10-04T17:52:00.000-07:00

After watching the news over the past two days about our newest prospective member of the Supreme Court, I am tired. Yes Harriet Mier is a weird choice, given the many other candidates with the gravitas and substantial intellectual weight to serve on the court. But I have a new appreciation of her potential given my son's homework tonight. Sometime it is the quiet ones who really weigh in when the going gets tough. Maybe Bush knows this, if he has tutored TwinChicks at all in their Civics homework.

I have tutored DivaSon for the last two hours for his Civics test tomorrow. Our topics have been the Articles of Confederation, Constitutional Convention, the Constitution, , Federalist Papers, Bill of Rights, and Amendments through 27.

Do you realize how much we must thank those who made sure that California and Texas can't bully the rest of us? If Roger Sherman (and who knows who he is??) had not stepped up to the plate, the Constitutional Convention, now six weeks deadlocked over popular versus representative voting, might have simply completely dissolved. Because of Sherman , we reconciled New Jersey and Virginia's plans for the three branches of government and made sure that population-dense states could not bully the rest of us into submission. We preserved individual liberty with the Connecticut compromise.

And God bless the Anti-Federalists. If not for them, we might not have freedom of the press, freedom of speech, or freedom of religion. They ensured we had the Bill of Rights.

What struck me tonight, and what I learned all over again, is that the conservatives of our country, the cautious people, the ordinary people--------they are the ones who carefully considered the long term implications of their decisions. They didn't have another election to win or a political reputation to preserve. They are the ones who really made the Constitution an enduring document. Many of the bright stars of the day were willing to weigh in about what is important NOW, but didn't have the vision to think about what would be most significant later. They had their reputations to maintain, rather than their legacies to leave.

And most of our benefactors, our thinkers, those cautious people----well they weren't community stars before the Constitutional Convention, and they weren't stars afterwards. We don't even know many of their names. But they left us a legacy,, and they prove that sometimes the most important legacy you can leave is to leave your ego at the door. Perhaps Harriet Mier will be the voice of the people of her time. God knows she isn't one of our stars so far.

But neither was Van Gogh or Nat Turner.

All is right with the world and the family

2005-09-30T19:11:00.000-07:00

DivaSon got 6 A's and one B on his progress report. Not bad for a kid who is being evaluated for learning disabilities. He has worked incredibly hard and we are so proud of him.

He has also driven many miles today. It is the first time he has driven since last Sunday. He will need a job soon just to pay for the gas for the truck. A $20 allowance doesn't go far when gas is $3 a gallon.

Hunter the dog has ridden many miles today with DivaSon. He will gladly ride more if he is invited. Hunter would chip in for gas if he had any money, because he loves hanging his head out the window and feeling his ears flap in the wind. Hunter helped DivaSon eat his Chick Fil A sandwiches this afternoon.

DivaHusband has driven west to see some friends. I am enjoying an unstructured night after getting back from a PowerDiva meeting this evening. Hunter and the other dogs--Lizzie and Elliott------are sitting quietly at my feet.

I am finally relaxed.

Claim your family time.

2005-09-30T18:18:00.000-07:00

The Small Town Power Divas met tonight. One of us, regretfully leaving early on in the evening, apologized and explained that Friday nights are her "family night." She got a bit of flap from the other Divas, but I told her that I wanted to support her in making her family night a priority. My frend, JewishDiva, looked at me gratefully and said, almost in a whisper, "You know the friends who really understand my family night are the Mormons. They make families a priority."

I then lowered another bombshell on my DivaFriends---I was once a Mormon. I understand her comment.

I joined the Mormon church as a 23 year old, recently married but lonely young woman. Even at that early juncture in my marriage, it was a struggle to connect with my spouse. I was lonely. Many of my friends had graduated and moved away from our college community and I found myself alone, trying to make new friends in a transient, college oriented town. My husband, Ex, was traveling all the time, trying to build our new business, and when he was home on the weekends, he was planning, scheming, and fantasizing about our future. He just had no room in his mind or time in his schedule for a wife. I was stuck in our retail outlet, working 12 hours a day, seven days a week. I hung out all the time with college students who, when they weren't working, were going to concerts, protest meetings, and having long conversations about BIG issues.

I was serving customers. I was going home at night to an empty cold house. At 3 AM, I was walking a neglected dog that Ex wanted around for 8 hours every week, but who lived with us for 168 hours. I was mowing the lawn, cleaning the house, locking up the restaurant at night, paying bills, and juggling the schedule to cover shifts when people called in with better things to do---like going to protest meetings, concerts, and discussons. IceMan dreamed and schemed, I worked and hurt.

Here come the Mormons. THEIR marriages were working. THEY had friends. THEY were convinced they had a purpose in life, and they were also convinced that I could have one too.

I loved being a Mormon. I liked the order, the sense of purpose and destiny, and I especially liked the rules. I knew that if I followed the rules, my family could look like the Bishop's family. Ex would love and support me. He would be enamoured of my fulfillment of my female destiny. He would stay home. He would talk to me. He would love me. He would cherish me.

It didn't work that way my friends, which led me to doubt my faith, my religion. It took me a long time to realize that GOD DOES NOT BLESS YOUR MESS. IceMan and I got married for all the wrong reasons, had unrealistic expectations of each other, and were unwilling to do the hard work of building a relationship.

Part of that work is putting a stake in the sand and claiming sacred time for your family. The Mormons program it into the master plan. but anyone can do it. Just say YES to your family, and NO to things that want to intrude. And most especially, SUPPORT your friends' family time. Don't encourage them to skip out on it, and don't make them feel guilty about having it.

Thank you to my Mormon friends for helping me develop clarity in my priorites, and for giving JewishDiva support.

Love letter to my daughter

2005-09-28T18:53:00.000-07:00

Nothing ever prepared me for the overwhelming love I have for my daughter. When I first cuddled that beautiful, soft, warm, sweetsmelling girl in my arms, I knew I had fallen in love for the rest of my life. I also knew that, forevermore, I would live knowing fear, knowing worry, and knowing that my heart could be broken .

DivaDaughter (aka Hootergirl) called me today from college. She is having a bit of a struggle balancing college, work, and friendships. She wanted to ask my opinion about dropping a class that she has missed a lot due to illness and fatigue. She also loves her job but has really worked far too much for a full time student. She's also having a hard time with a class in her major, and my brilliant daughter is doubting her own intellect. She wanted my advice, but was worried about what I "would think" about her.

My darling daughter, I delight in the joy of your simple existence. I do worry about some of the choices you make for a couple of reasons. First of all, you tend to overcommit and then get sick because you run yourself ragged. Second, I want you to have the freedom to do whatever you want down the road, and sometimes short sighted choices close doors that you later wish you had left open. I am sad that you don't really understand just how talented and smart you are. I worry that your life seems a bit out of balance given what I think your long term objectives are. Yes, I "think" a lot about you, but probably not the "thinking" you "think" I do. I mostly marvel about you.

M y darling, I marveled today at your honesty, your integrity, and your sense of responsibility. I cried when I realized that you give me the privilege to participate in your life. I found hope today that perhaps the "sins of the fathers" don't have to always fall on the son.

I was not mothered myself as a child, so I did not have a pattern to follow. I spent so much of your childhood worrying about doing the right thing that I sometimes forgot to simply enjoy you. I made so many mistakes I wish I could rectify.

I also was a daughter, but a daughter who would never have considered her mother a source of comfort or wisdom. I did not seek my mother's advice, I did not tell her anything I did. I could not depend on her advice. She could not comfort me when I needed it.

So today, I was completely overwhelmed by your trust in me, by your belief that I could help you. The fact that you WANTED to talk to me about so many things in your life humbled me.
I never knew that feeling for my mother.

I am sorry my mother and I never had this kind of bond.

Thank you Miss H, for letting me mother you. It's the greatest privilege I have been given.

Faux Finish?

2005-09-28T04:37:00.000-07:00

As I sorted through my pile of business cards, looking for the one I wanted, I stopped at my friend Kimmy's card. Kimmy is a realtor and just sent me one of her new cards. It seems customary with this realty firm to have cards with pictures on them. WOW Kimmy looked GREAT in that picture.

So I called Kimmy, because I have to have a photograph for my company's new and improved website. I wanted whoever did Kimmy's photo to do mine, because that person sure knows how to take a woman of "that" age and make her look like a million bucks. I just had lunch with Kimmy last week, and although she is an extremely foxy broad for her age, that photo is, well.......she looks years younger.

And that's when I learned Kimmy's little secret--and one I can use too. It is called "retouching."

Call me dumb, but it honestly never occurred to me that ordinary people could avail themselves of this celebrity secret. I know all about how Vanity Fair shaved a few pounds off Kate Winslet's hips and how Cosmo paints on Catherine Zeta Jones' cheekbones. But I thought that the technology needed for such visual aids was not easily available to the average person. Not true. Photoshop can do wonders.

So I have called Kimmy's photographer and made an appointment. I am ready to have 15 years shaved off my appearance. I think I'll probably look better than I actually did 15 years ago, if that's possible for Small Town Diva.

Small Town Diva asks tough questions

2005-09-26T17:32:00.000-07:00

Ok, now I am on a tethered keyboard and mouse. Perhaps it will be more responsive.

The eloquent point I was trying to make earlier is that MIDLIFE is really a very powerful and transformational period. The confidence I have gained from living for so long makes me quite willing to call it like I see it in many circumstances that would have earlier rendered me tentative and scared to put my opinions out there. . But strangely enough, I am also more open-minded, more willing to say "I don't know" when I really don't. I just don't need to be right the way I used to. And that is freedom. And, as we all know, freedom can take you in some strange places.

Good case in point. I, as a Small Town Diva, serve on a county advisory board that looks at economic development issues. It's a board that I naively thought would be a place that I might have some influence.

Day ONE it became clear that there was a dynamic on this board that I just did not "GET." No one talked, no one asked questions. We started talking about some stuff that the County Commissioners had decided, and I, obviously lacking "suave and debonair," said, "Well that just doesn't make any sense to me. "

DEAD SILENCE. I then compounded my faux pas by directing my next comment to the CuteGuy actual, honest to god, County Commissioner who is the liaison to this group---I said, "CuteGuy, why did the County Commissioners make this decision--it just doesn't make any sense if what they want is economic development?"

Dead air. The oxygen in the room whooshed out. No one could breathe. No one looked at me.
Friends it got worse and worse. I got nervous. Which means that I said more of what I actually thought, without editing for content. My next comment was:

"CuteGuy, whose dumb idea was this?"

Then I realized that dumb was probably not the best adjective to use in the conversation. I took a deep breath, waiting for a rescue that did not come from my comrades, and tried again.

"CuteGuy, are the commissioners really supportive of economic development or are they just just playing kiss ass with the community? "

The silence got thicker, if that's possible, so I realized that I had been incredibly insensitive and judgmental. I then tried to work my way out of it and give CuteGuy an easy lob, a way out by asking him to support an obvious easy win, an "of course" position that no one would be against:

"CuteGuy, are YOU willing to vote for XXXXXXX and support economic development?"

Well that last question really raised his hackles. I am sure I had insulted him many times over with my thoughtless comments during this meeting. but calling a politician a dumbass or stupid or a kiss ass is not the worst thing, The worst thing is asking him to go ON THE RECORD in a PUBLIC MEETING. That is the point at which CuteGuy and I declared war. It was the straw that broke the camel's back.

The county employee who staffs our Board lowered her eyes. The long term Board members coughed. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. And I, Small Town Diva, realized that sometimes public meetings are not the best place to ask public questions, especially when one is a novice to the political process. CuteGuy said, "Well it's a complicated situation, and perhaps you should study the minutes of our meeting before we discuss this further." And the discussion was OVER. Even I got that.

I backed off. In retrospect, I am not sure that was the right decision. Next time I might keep pushing. However, as a midlife Small Town Diva, I feel very confident that I have asked the questions from which other people shy away. I may have shot myself in the foot, but I know I have greased the wheels of other people's thinking. And in the end, at midlife, that's a luxury I can afford. Freedom of speech is a strange road to walk. I am glad I have started the journey.

wifi----why?

2005-09-26T05:12:00.000-07:00

This is the time of year that confuses nature. One day it's hot and muggy, the next day cool and dry. My maple trees are dropping leaves while my azaleas are trying to bud.

Today was so hard. I guess I am at "midlife" whatever that means. It seems to be very clear to other people, but fuzzy to me. Youknow the damn fuwireless kyboard adn mouse is not alli t is cracked uptob e. It has taken me an hour to write thismess. I will have to work this out tomorrow, when Iave myself firmly threaded into thinternet. I can/t dothis anymore. tonight. And we think wireless will save the earth???? I would just appreciate thekey board responding to my commands.

And Diva Daughter has a speeding ticket

2005-09-22T14:20:00.000-07:00

Yep that's right. God loves a good laugh.

DivaSon is DRIVING!!

2005-09-22T12:13:00.000-07:00

There should be another advisory crawling across the bottom of your TV screen today:

""WARNING--DivaSon given license to drive today."

DivaSon's dad (my ex husband) took DivaSon this morning to jump himself through the last hoops necessary to become a full fledged, card carrying member of the road warrior crowd. His newly minted driver's license is now occupying a prominent place in his wallet---next to his student ID, Blockbuster membership card, and "code cheat sheet" for San Andreas.

This was actually DivaSon's second attempt to get the golden passport into personal freedom. His dad took him last week to test. DivaSon came home, shoulders slumped. He had failed his driving test. Why? I asked. "I went too fast," he replied. "35 in a 25."

Well you could have knocked me over with a feather. DivaSon, SPEEDING??? This is the only boy I have ever met who drives 10 miles an hour BELOW the speed limit on the interstate. The last time he drove us on a trip, I finally made him pull over and let me behind the wheel so that we could get to our destination before it was time to turn around and start back home. DivaHusband's 90 somthing year old mother drives faster than DivaSon.

DivaSon is a surprisingly cautious and good driver. He respects the power of the car. He has a healthy fear of the "other guy" driving beside him. He holds that steering wheel firmly in two hands. He does not talk. He does not channel surf the radio. He DRIVES, and fully concentrates on what he is doing.

He has not always exhibited this steak of caution. DivaSon was a wild child. He climbed over our 6 foot fence as a two year old and trekked his way in his stocking feet to the fire station down the road to visit the "fireguys." As a three year old, he climbed out of his little race car bed, removed the screen from his second story window, and hung upside down by his toes out the window to greet me when I came home from the grocery store. The very next morning, he jumped off the refrigerator in his batman cape while I took the briefest of trips to the powder room. He plunged over the boat railing on a deep sea fishing trip at age 4 because he saw a dolphin. As a 6 year old, he convinced the pilot of a South African Airways flight to let him sit in the cockpit while the plane landed.

So you see, it's a good thing DivaSon has developed some caution. He's already squandered his nine lives.

When a promise isn't a promise?

2005-09-22T10:32:00.000-07:00

On one of the other blogs I occasionally read the author is discussing her infidelity. The comments are overwhelmingly supportive of her decision to "follow her heart" and find love.

I find myself having an incredibly negative reaction to all this outpouring of lovingkindness for her decision to change the rules of her relationship before informing her partner. I am sick to my stomach reading so many posts supporting her choice to cheat on someone that trusted her to be faithful. The way that so many of those comments dismiss her partner's feelings just boggles my mind. Have we abandoned all pretext of "being our word" and honoring our commitments when the going gets tough?

I realize relationships are complex things. I realize people make mistakes and aren't perfect. What I cannot accept is secretly and one-sidedly re-writing the rules of engagement that you both agreed to earlier and then trying to justify your actions after the fact.

Most couples agree to monogamy when they decide to get married or live together. I think if you want to change those rules you need to at least inform your partner before you act out the terms of your new agreement.

Here's what I would like to say to this blogger:

Honey, this celebration of 'following your heart," 'finding your true love' and 'finding happiness' ignores the pain and betrayal of your partner. Maybe your partner wasn't all that happy with you either, and would have appreciated getting the green light to shop around for his next girlfriend from the safety net of your home and hearth. Defending your actions by saying--I only stepped out once, I told him right away after it happened---doesn't take into account the months you spent building this relationship with NewBoy before you hopped in the sack. Sex with NewBoy was the culmination of months of infidelity, not the beginning.

It pains me that we have a culture that teaches us to demand our rights while simultaneously teaching us to avoid responsibility. We scream for justice when we are wronged, but plead for mercy when we've wronged others. We make decisions based on how we feel at the moment, instead of how we'll feel when others find out. We refuse to hold ourselves or one another accountable when our words don't match our actions.

I do not know this blogger except through her words. I am not trying to judge her. It is actually not her words that set off this tirade, but rather the words of the onlookers, the voyeurs, and the armchair commentators that have put the ache in my heart and the razor in my pen.

Unhappiness is contagious

2005-09-21T13:08:00.000-07:00

There's a general malaise in my community. Everyone I know is falling into one of three categories:

a. unemployed and miserable
b. employed and miserable
c. just miserable.

I don't know if this is true universally around America the Beautiful but here, I see job anxiety. I see workplace stress. I see layoffs, downsizing, and offshoring of professional jobs. And I see just plain anxiety.

I live in an area that, to the outside world, is touted as a place where job growth is still occuring. The work I do gives me a bit more of an insider's view, and I can tell you that our Economic Development professionals are fudging the data a bit. The past three years saw this area take one of the largest hits in the nation in job losses. Many of those jobs were well paying, professional positions that were relocated either elsewhere in the US or overseas, or eliminated altogether. The new job growth so highly publicized by our local political "wonks" is actually not even replacing the jobs we lost, and is occuring primarily in the government sector, military contracts, and in lower paying professional positions.

Some of this downsizing is a market correction from when the economy was printing money and couldn't throw it at people fast enough. I am continuously amazed to hear that Big Daddy got paid 150K a year to do a job for company X that Company X has now decided is "nonessential." Company X seems to be running just fine without Big Daddy's position, so why was the job both essential and worth 150K three years ago? Were companies really that flush with profits that they abandoned their business plans and just started making up high paying jobs and hiring people to do them? Or is the company fooling its stockholders into believing that it hasn't harmed itself by eliminating Big Daddy's job?

And what about Big Daddy? He has a 150K lifestyle, and 150K salary expectations, based on his being compensated for a position at Company X that is now "nonessential," not just at company X, but at every other company in the area.

So Big Daddy goes job hunting. He gets increasingly frustrated and insulted with the jobs he's offered at half his former rate of pay. He gets worried about how he will support his family. His wife gets worried. He's miserable.

Enter Big Mama. She's working more and more. 40 hours a week is a joke. She still has a job, thank god, but her department's staff has been cut by a third, and that work has been apportioned out to the remaining staff. NO pay increase, but a big stress increase. Her boss is stressed, she's stressed, salaries are frozen, and Big Mama knows that there are a dozen people out there ready to take her job if she misses a step. She feels the hunger when people come to interview for the ONE position that management is replacing from all those staff cuts. She's miserable.

Then there's Golden Girl. She has a job, her boss tells her everything is going just fine, but she's anxious. She's worried about her future. Even though her company is growing, she hears the stories out there about how everybody else is struggling, and she worries that she should be worried. She makes herself miserable.

Perhaps the greatest legacy of the Bush administration will not be the deficit, the war in Iraq, 9-11, or the flooding of New Orleans. Instead it will be the loss of our optimism, the gradual defeat of our can-do attitude, the increasing presence of pessimism and anxiety of the average American. That will require a different kind of recovery effort. President Bush, take note.

"Happiness and misery depend not on how high up or low down you are - they depend not upon these, but on the direction in which you are tending. " (Samuel Butler)

Back from sick leave

2005-09-20T06:53:00.000-07:00

The bug that gripped DivaHusband finally got me. After 5 days in bed, I am completely out of touch with everything that has gone on "out there." I am up today, shaky and weak, but at least coherent. Getting plugged back in will be interesting.

Why I shared a serious thought.

2005-09-16T15:39:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine who reads my blog called me and registered her intense disapproval that I would share so much of my childhood in a previous post, especially because it wasn't exactly a Beaver Cleaver story I shared. She strongly encouraged me to delete that post. I've thought about it today and decided that I am not going to do that. And here's why.

One of the greatest injustices women do to each other is to put on the happy mask. We pretend that everything is OK, when it isn't. We aren't honest, we aren't transparent, and we really don't support each other the way we should. Women suffer in silence because we think we are the only one in our group having problems. We sugarcoat our lives, and many of our interactions are shallow. And even worse, when someone is honest, we are often so caught off guard that we can't even meet her where she is.

In generations previous, it was pretty hard to pretend that things were OK when they weren't, primarily because people lived in such close proximity to one another and were much more interdependent than today. The notions of privacy we cherish so dearly today are in reality a relatively recent historical construct among the "masses." The rich have always been able to hide their dirty laundry, but for us peons, we had to live our lives pretty much in full view of our community. Today our standard of living is such that most of us can hide our problems behind the door of the family castle and suffer alone.

So, what does that mean for today's families? First of all, I think most people have some type of serious problem that they deal with in their families. For some, it is mental illness. For others, substance abuse. Maybe you're struggling with infidelity. Maybe you or your spouse has a serious spending problem. Maybe your child is a criminal. Maybe you are struggling to love your children, your spouse, your parents. Maybe you are disappointed that you didn't achieve your goals. Whatever it is, we think we have to hide it. We think there is something wrong with us because we have these problems, while Muffy over there has things all together. And so we suffer--------silently.

Suffering is a normal part of human existence. What isn't normal is to do it alone. Christ, at His time of greatest suffering on the cross, had His mother, His brothers, and all His disciples there with Him. They saw Him at His weakest and most vulnerable. Even though there was not a thing in the world any of His friends and family could do to help Him, they wanted to be there. He wanted them to be there. And they were there. I think He was given a measure of grace in His last moments of suffering, because the people He loved also loved Him enough to be at his side, even when the only thing they could offer Him was their tears.

We need to share our stories more. We need to cry together, to suffer together. If my family had not had this conspiracy of silence for so long because of a misplaced sense of shame, maybe my mother could have gotten some help earlier and not had to suffer the way she did. A footnote: she has been much better for the past 15 years or so, mainly since she went through menopause. She told me that after she finished menopause it was like she woke up from a dreadful nightmare. Too bad she had to live it for so long.

But back to my point. I did not share this story to make my mother look bad, or to make me look good. In fact, I feel deep remorse at my lack of compassion for her during much of my life. I shared that story because I think there are other people out there, suffering with their circumstances, unable to talk to anyone. We think that our family is the only crazy one out there, and we feel that we are somehow flawed if we've had these experiences in our lives. We think our circumstances are somehow related to how good or how bad we are. Not true. And then we beat ourselves up AGAIN if we feel anger or frustration or self-pity or rage about our circumstances. My friends all these feeling are completely normal. You are not a bad person because you have negative feelings or thoughts.

I think God holds us accountable to DO love, not to FEEL love.

32 things about me---and WHY 32?

2005-09-16T13:14:00.000-07:00

Some of the other blogs I read have this list of "32 things" about the person. Which got me to wondering, WHY THIRTY TWO? Here's what a google search turned up:

ROCK MUSIC (from Wikopedia)

Thirty-two-bar form was often used in rock in the 1950s and 60s. Examples include:
Jerry Lee Lewis's "Great Balls of Fire" (1957)
The Everly Brothers' "All I have to Do Is Dream" (1958)
The Shirelles' "Will You Still Love Me" (1960)
The Beach Boys' "Surfer Girl" (1963), and
The Beatles' "From Me to You" (1963) and "Hey Jude" (1968).

RANDOM STUFF
Thirty-two is also:
The size of a full set of adult teeth in humans, including wisdom teeth.
In chess, the total number of black squares on the board, the total number of white squares, and the total number of pieces (black and white) at the beginning of the game.
The code for international direct dial phone calls to Belgium.

LITTLE WOMEN
chap 32 is where Jo realized that Laurie is quite fond of her and she decides to leave. The family has its first inkling that something is wrong with Beth.

So, I still don't understand the relevance of 32, but here goes with my attempt:

I lived without running water for a few weeks every winter as a child when our "waterlines" froze. We carried water from the creek. My mother heated water for a bath for me as a 15th birthday present. It took her a long time. .
I worked in a paper mill for two summers during college, running a machine that made cigarette paper. I worked "swing shift" and made 14.00 an hour in 1979.
I got a full academic scholarship to college and graduated with $3000 in savings, a 3.7 GPA, and a husband.
One of my goals is to visit every continent, I am up to 4 continents and 23 countries.
I have met a jackass penguin up close and personal.
I sat in Nelson Mandela's presidential chair during a tour of the Presidential palace. I also held the gold tea set.
I met and had a private lunch with Bishop Desmond Tutu. It is one of the highlights of my life.
I learned to ski at 25 and scuba dive at 35. I still scuba dive, but don't ski--the knees don't like it.
I can kill, pluck, and clean a chicken in a New York minute.
I have also slaughtered hogs, milked cows, and made sausage.
I slept in the same bed my grandfather was born in.
I am missing 8 teeth. My mouth, however, is full of teeth. My family might say it is also often full of useless advice.
I just learned to ride a jetski. I love it.
I had an ecstatic experience with God once. It was wonderful.
I did not have initmate relations with my husband until our wedding night. It was worth the wait.
I tend to hang out with people who are younger than me.
My husband dyes my hair. He does a fabulous job.
I have an emergency kit with a three day supply of food, water, clothes, and money for each family member. We can evacuate our house in less than 15 minutes.
I once found a rattlesnake in my childhood home, curled up under the hot water heater in the kitchen. .
I actually went to an Anti America rally in a foreign country, just to try and understand why. The organizers were quite nice to me. We had a very good conversation.
I have been at the scene of a terrorist bomb blast in a foreign country.
I had the easiest labor and delivery experiences ever. 5.5 and 1.5 hours respectively. No drugs either.
I threw up for nine months, though.
My feet have grown an entire shoe size in the past 20 years.
My grandmother was the first person in her community to have a toilet and running water.
I graduated 3rd in my graduate school class of 55 while raising an infant and working full time in our family business. I had a small mental breakdown after that.
I once danced on the bar at Carlos and Charlies in Cozumel--with my stepchildren in attendance. I don't think they were scarred for life.
I have always had a dog, or two, or three,...........or four.
I have been in regular therapy for over 10 years.
I am saner for it.
Two of my life goals are to make a difference for other people and to know God's purpose for me.
I am an ISFJ. I had a very hard time coming up with 32 things that I thought would interest anyone. Hope you made it to the end.

The marital bed is heating up!

2005-09-16T07:38:00.000-07:00

I am having hot flashes. My husband told me that I was so hot in bed last night (and not Paris Hilton "hot" but HOT as in Miami hot) that he could not sleep. He said he rolled over and put his arm on my back and pulled it away, scalded and drenched in sweat. He said I kicked the covers off, pulled the covers back on, and kicked them off again a dozen times. The only reason he didn't sleep in one of the guest rooms is because I have threatened bodily harm to any family member who sleeps in them after I have just gotten them cleaned up and ready for our next bout of company (see previous post YES IT IS ALL ABOUT ME).

I met with a Small Town Divo ( Divo n. mas form of Diva) last week and found myself dripping sweat onto my hummus wrap while my face turned as red as a beet. I thought it was because we ate outside in the muggy 90 degree heat, but am now convinced I am entering into that "silent passage" Gail Sheedy wrote about so eloquently.

I walked into my office a few days ago and immediately found myself drenched in sweat. My colleague (Apprentice Diva we will call her--AD) said she was hot too, so I assumed it was just the landlord cheaping out and turning off the air conditioning at night. However, I will have to re-think this in light of the new information from my spouse.

I actually read "The Silent Passage" a few weeks ago. It's a great book for anyone of 'that' age to read, or anyone who has to work with, live with, be parented by, or otherwise interact with a female of "that' age.

Now I understand why I can't find my keys, or why I forget to pick up half and half when I go to the grocery store. Now I know why I cry when I drop my earrings, or why I fly into cleaning frenzies. I must have been in perimenopause since the age of 28, because that's how long I've had some of those symptoms.

I'm looking forward to the POWER SURGE Ms. Sheedy talks about. I just hope it doesn't burn a hole in the bed. It's already hot enough in there. ;o}

The light dims, but the love grows.

2005-09-15T07:44:00.000-07:00

I cried after talking to my mother today. My mother is dying. She hasn't really admitted it yet, but each conversation, each visit, unfolds before my eyes how quickly the little health and mobility she has is fading into the ether.

My mother and I have danced a complicated tango throughout our lives. She was an unwed, teenage mother, back in the late 1950's before that type of thing became socially acceptable. She was forced to marry a family friend almost 30 years her senior so that her child---me---would not be a 'bastard' and so the family could retain some semblance of so-called dignity in our small town.

I don't think my mother ever recovered from the stigma, the whispers, and the shunning she endured in our small town. Even worse was the abuse she endured at the hands of the man who made a so called "honest woman" out of her. It took him a little over a year to beat the light out of her eyes, the smile off her face. By the time she returned to her childhood home, 9 month old in tow, she was old and broken. At 18.

Throughout my childhood she was so volatile that I was quite often afraid of her. Her behavior became increasingly erratic, wavering between manic episodes of excessive spending and other behaviors, to temper tantrums where she held a gun either to my 8 year old head or to her own and threatened to pull the trigger because I didn't love her enough. These episodes were punctuated by crying jags that lasted for days and hours spent catatonically sitting in the dark in her room, still and unresponsive.

Today I know she was manic depressive. Back then I just thought she was evil.

It's a story probably better left for another time about my own journey to acceptance, and even love. I had to let go of a lot of anger and I have prayed for many years to love my mother the way God loves her. And He does. She didn't get dealt a very good hand in life, and even today our tango continues its complicated way around the dance floor. She would like to live with me, but I can't go there. She would like to be taken care of by her family, but instead paid strangers assist her with her daily routine. She is so very needy, so very young, despite her wrinkles and gray hair. She has hated herself for so long, it is hard for her to believe that we love her---but we do.

50 years of self-abuse---cigarettes, obesity, poor diet, no exercise---have put my mother in her straight back chair, oxygen tank at her side, incapable of lifting a mop or walking outside to see her beautiful flowers. She's probably less than 6 months away from a full time wheelchair, and beyond that, I just don't know. Yet when I spoke to her today, I could hear how proud she is of her grandchildren, and how much I mean to her. She means a lot to me too. I've learned a lot from her about suffering, about forgiveness, and about unconditional love.

I realized today that I will really miss her when she is gone. Despite our complicated relationship, she's my mother. The only one I have, the only one I will ever have. She's the mother God gave me, and I believe, today, after years of therapy, years of asking why, that He chose well. I knew it when I cried.

Abortion is not the only Supreme Court issue!

2005-09-14T07:41:00.000-07:00

Are we doomed forever to have abortion be THE central topic of any judicial confirmation hearing? Here we are, two days into the Roberts hearing, and--all pontificating and use of the regal "WE" aside---the entire questioning has revolved around Roe V Wade.

Don't get me wrong, I understand the incredible moral and ethical debate that has raged in our country over the past thirty years about this topic. I, dear friends, remember well a time when abortion was neither safe nor legal--unless you could find a friendly doctor who was willing to perform a "D and C" because you were experiencing "menstrual problems"--the problem being, obviously, that you weren't menstruating. My mother allowed me to stay home from school to watch the episode of ALL MY CHILDREN where Erika Kane had an abortion because she was pregnant with Phillip's child and she realized that he didn't love her. Back then, we didn't have Tivo or VCR--if you wanted to see a program, you had to be parked in front of the TV when it was ACTUALLY showing.

That episode was the most controversial hour of soap opera television ever aired and a welcome relief from the usual bedhopping, backstabbing, adulterous storyline of the daytime soap. People discussed it in the grocery store, in English class, and at work. So you see, we've had 30 years of controversy over Roe V Wade, yet it is still the law of the land.

I have grown up with Roe V Wade, and even today it makes me feel protected in some way, but still very uneasy. I think most Americans, if they are being honest, have some level of discomfort with the idea, but,if you believe the polls, still fall on the side of keeping abortion as a legal option.

However, I do not want to start yet another dialogue about abortion. The point I am trying to make is that this is ONE law in a long list of judicial precedents about which we should be concerned or about which there is vehement disagreement in our country. For example, what about the most recent, completely indefensible (in my opinion), ruling that allows government entities to seize private property for economic development? Why isn't someone asking Judge Roberts if he thinks that ruling is good law? Oh, and even more importantly, what about the judicial decision that put George Bush in the White House in the first place? What about the equal protection clause and the rights of all Americans to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness--how does Roberts reconcile the denial of domestic partnership privileges to same sex couples and the criminalization of consensual, same sex cohabitation with THAT sweeping right articulated by the Founding Fathers?

I could go on and on. I am not a judicial scholar, but I expect more out of elected representatives who purport themselves to be. Judge Roberts will probably preside over more than 30 sessions of the US Supreme Court during his tenure. Let's make sure he has enough judicial expertise and common sense to rule on the myriad of issues that will come before him. I don't want an abortion expert as my next Chief Justice, I want a judicial expert.

Perhaps the confirmation committee should stop campaigning for re-election with their comments, and do the job that is before them today---to determine if Judge Roberts is qualified to be the next Chief Justice of the US Supreme Court. I think you have to ask more than one question framed 50 different ways to know that.

Creativity cannot be stifled, even in a weather report

2005-09-13T11:01:00.000-07:00

I really enjoy the writer who does the updates on Weather.com. I read them faithfully, just to enjoy this person's attempt to leave a creative mark on what could be very dry information. Here is an excerpt from today's top story, about the hurricane currently hanging around off the east coast.

Somehow I think the author is a woman, given the many feminine references in this report.
from www.weather.com

_________________________________________________

"Tropical Storm Ophelia, merely drifting toward the northwest, remains stuck off the Carolina coast this morning. The rotund ballerina continues to pirouette in-place about 125 miles southeast of Myrtle Beach, S. C., while every once in awhile flinging a soggy rainband into the coast. With Ophelia likely to maintain its quasi-stationary dance today, squally weather should be confined to southeast North Carolina and northeast South Carolina.
Things may begin to change tonight, however, with the storm expected to begin a somewhat more determined tip-toe northward. Still, the movement will be slow and landfall, probably somewhere along the southern coast of North Carolina, may not occur until tomorrow. And, with Ophelia looking somewhat more robust this morning than yesterday, the cyclone may swirl ashore as a minimal hurricane. Minor wind and storm surge damage are possible (as are "weak" tornadoes), but the main threat from the surly danseuse will be heavy, flooding rains.
The rain today will come in fits and starts as Ophelia's outer rainbands storm ashore, but the precipitation tonight and tomorrow is expected to become steadier and heavier as the storm spins closer to land. ........."
______________________________________________________

And in our office, we are having an elocution lesson involving the correct pronounciation of 'pirouette' and 'danseuse.' We already know how to pronounce hurricane.

I know I am getting old when I enjoy reading weather.com and when I think Dr. Max Mayfield is sexy. It won't be long until my idea of a hot night is the all you can eat buffet at Golden Corral.

Stepping into public life

2005-09-12T21:38:00.000-07:00

Small Town Diva did her Superwoman Diva routine tonight. First I worked all day at my job--a feat since A/ it was Monday anyway, and B/it was just a weird day with a lot of strange unusual issues to resolve. My colleague and I were both worn down after the day. Then I came home and made dinner for DivaHusband and DivaSon.

DH was at least downstairs---this after a weekend moving no further from the bed than to go to the bathroom and reach for the NyQuil. He is feeling somewhat better, still pretty weak. I doubt he will go to work tomorrow--he got as far as cranking his car today before he decided his day was better spent recuperating than coughing on his clients.

DS' brains and brawn were equally exhausted, the former from his Spanish test, the latter from football practice. All he cared about was food, and lots of it. That I was able to supply--a big pot of spaghetti satisfies even the manliest of appetites. It also has the advantage of being the comfort food of choice for the family. Those carbs put us all right to sleep. I did not partake, because my day had not ended and the last thing I needed was a carbohydrate induced coma. I still had a full night ahead of me.

After feeding my guys and making sure that every possible thing that DH could need---remote control for the big screen TV, glass of water, NyQuil, telephone, bowl of ice cream, remote control that controls the surround sound, pencil, paper, pillow, and blanket, ---were within fingertip distance----well then I, Small Town Diva, did my civic duty and went to our small town's regularly scheduled meeting of our elected leadership. There was a particular item on the agenda about which I felt very strongly. I decided that I wanted to be heard on said item, so I signed up for citizen comment.

This is when I realized that even Small Town Divas might need some training and coaching on stepping out into public life. I was absolutely scared to death when I was called upon to speak. My mouth went dry. My brain took a time out. Even though I had prepared some notes, I couldn't read them because my eyes were so glassy. I was SCARED. I stumbled my way through my talking points, all the while my brain being completely disengaged from my mouth.

I couldn't believe it. Here I was, older than about half those whippersnappers, certainly better versed than they on the matter under discussion, with great talking points, and I am struggling to put out a coherent sentence. I was acutely aware of so many people in the room that I respect, and that I wanted to respect me. There was the Mayor whom I have come to know and respect because of some work I did that involved him. There was the leader of my volunteer organization that I wanted to support, there was the elected official that I think is a total moron that I wanted to flatten with my brilliance, and there were the people who are affected by the thing that brought me there in the first place---the people I wanted to support, to whom I wanted to give a voice. And they were all looking at me expectantly, waiting for my words of wisdom. I have absolutely no idea if I had any---I was just too nervous. .

I realized later that my fear was an outgrowth of wanting to sound smart, wanting to be respected. I had it all wrong. You don't start out there, you end up there. The most important thing is to be honest, consistent, and sincere-----the respect comes afterwards.

I really have to stop worrying so much about what other people think, and worry more about what I think.

After the meeting a few folks came up to me and said "You are exactly right." I didn't have the courage to say "About what?" Apparently I didn't embarass myself too much, but I did stick my neck out farther than I probably intended to on the issue. Not farther than I believe, but certainly farther than I wanted to go on the record tonight.

From the feedback I got, maybe that wasn't too bad.

I just got home. DH is back in bed, DS is looking up vocabulary words. They asked me how it went. I said fine. Looking back on it, I think it was. Everything we do teaches us. Every experience we have works to our good. Everytime we take a step into power, we will have to struggle with insecurity. Courage is acting in the presence of fear. Tonight I think I had some courage. I know I had a lot of fear.

DivaHusband has emerged from the cocoon

2005-09-12T14:08:00.000-07:00

DivaHusband just called me. He sounds absolutely awful, but he is sitting up and drinking his green tea--thank you fnrthomas. My day has definitely improved.

DivaHusband is still very sick

2005-09-11T21:15:00.000-07:00

Just an update. I made the chicken soup, it isn't helping. I am really worried about DivaHusband. I haven't seen him this "laid out" in the ten years we've been married. If he isn't better by tomorrow. we are going to the doctor.

What is wrong?? He is generally so capable of throwing off an infection or virus. He hasn't even stood up for more than a minute in the past 48 hours. He still seems oriented to person,place, and time, but he has absolutely no energy, he cannot even sit up. No fever now, but he is very clammy and very restless, mumbling in his sleep and generally tossing and turning.

Keep him in your thoughts and prayers. I am quite worried at this point.

I feel stupid, senor

2005-09-11T16:34:00.000-07:00

My son and I have hit the harsh reality that DivaMama really doesn't have all the answers. He asked me to help him with his Spanish homework today and I couldn't.

This is a big milestone for all of us. I tutored DivaDaughter through AP English, AP Environmental Sciences, AP World History, and AP Calculus. I still edit her papers at college (one of which just won a campuswide award for research, DivaDaughter being the first freshman on her campus to EVER win such an award) and she regularly calls me for support.

DivaSon and I have worked on his homework for years. He has always been absolutely convinced that I can solve any problem, edit any paper, and coach him through any presentation. Yet now, here in Spanish I, he is on his own. I know exactly five things in Spanish:

La Cerveza por Favor
Donde el bano?
Unos, Dos Queses, Quattro, Cinco Seize (thank you Sesame Street)
Dasayuno
Gracias

As you can see, my Spanish is completely phonetic and generally useless unless I am at Carlos and Charlies in Cozumel.

It is a strange place for me too. I am used to being smarter than my kids, I am accustomed to always being able to help them with their academics. I am not a genius, but I am a pretty smart cookie, and at least until today, have been ahead of my kids in their coursework. I have been somewhat smug and arrogant about this, if truth be told. I probably needed a Diva Reality Check on this one.

So today it happened. I had to admit that I know less than my 16 year old son. What a concept.

He's calling my dad, a fluent Spanish speaker, to help him, Yes it's true, my dad is fluent in Spanish, while I never learned a single word. WHY? well that is a story for another day. Suffice it to say that DivaDad and I met later in both our lives after a soap opera worthy story that makes me both laugh and cry. I love my dad so much, but we really didn't know each other until long after I had invested in "parlez vous francais."

In Sickness and In Health

2005-09-10T20:46:00.000-07:00

DivaHusband is sick. It started out as a deep chest cough last night, along with some congestion and sore throat. He went to bed early with the full expectation that he would wake up ready to putter in the garage, take the dogs for a ride to the recycling center, and spend some time wandering the aisles of our local home improvement store.

Not to happen. He tossed and turned all night, feverish and uncomfortable. I got up twice to get him OTC stuff like Robitussin and Sudafed. By mid morning, it was apparent that he would not arise today. At about 6 pm today, I finally got him to drink some beef broth and take two Alka Seltzer Flu tablets.

Today has not been the same without him. The dogs have paced, whined, and generally been very restless. I have washed walls, dusted blinds, and cleaned baseboards, despite my initial plans to hike in the park and catch a movie. I started organizing the DVD's before I realized that I am doing my OCD thing to soothe my anxiety. I am at loose ends because DivaHusband and I have obeyed the marital commandment for two to become one. My life is so intertwined with his that when he is sick, so am I. It just manifests itself differently.

I love DivaHusband. I would rather be with him than any other human being on earth. He is my best friend, he puts stars in my eyes, he is the smartest person I know. He fills up a lot of my heart. I miss him when he isn't around. I worry about him when he doesn't feel well. I make him chicken soup (he loves my chicken soup) and force him to drink mineral water and take Dr. Shultz's SuperFood. I will not relax until he is feeling better. We will, however, enjoy a very clean house.

HOME

2005-09-10T07:13:00.000-07:00

It is so beautiful and peaceful here this morning. It is one of those mornings where a person can believe that God really must love us because he created such a beautiful earth for us to enjoy. I have a window behind my computer monitor that looks into my backyard. It is heavily wooded, and the sunlight is winking while the leaves stir. There is just a hint of a breeze. The cicadas are humming. The birds are talking. My dogs are lying at my feet. I hear one of them breathing softly. Everything is so still.

I'm at home. It feels so good.

The fashionistas can't sing

2005-09-09T23:10:00.000-07:00

I just watched "Fashion-Show-Hurricane-Relief-Dancing with the Stars 2005. " I think it was on CBS--I actually came in the middle, after spending a couple of hours with some very interesting other Small Town Divas but that is another story. One thing I think this group needs to learn from the Oscars is to hire seat sitters. It didn't look very good to see so many empty seats in Radio City Music Hall, for a gala that was supposed to pull the New York designers together to support disaster relief. They should have hired more skinny wanna be models to sit in empty seats and look good for the cameras.

I think what surprised me the most was just how bad most of the singers sounded, a few notable exceptions being David Bowie and Alicia Keys. Even Gwen Stefani seemed a little off. The crowd at the event seemed to like Duran Duran, but I personally thought they sounded a little strained. I liked "Girls on Film" but what I really wanted to hear was "Hungry like the Wolf." David Bowie at least took a risk. He sang his song "Life on Mars" complete with props--a black eye and broken wrist, and by god he nailed that puppy. Not a single person in Radio City Music Hall understood what the song was about---not that I do either, but I remember that it was from the very early days of Bowie, his Ziggy Stardust days, and I would bet that he hasn't sung that song live in a hell of a long time. Anyway, he sounded GREAT.

Alicia Keys had a good time. She has a sophisticated voice, is fun and absolutely gorgeous. And oh my god who the hell is Joss Stone? She is the new Tina Turner, the smokin' torch singer, sultry, bluesy, grooving--in a word absolutely awesome. She knew how to do it right---no high heels for THAT chick. She did the entire show barefoot, and grooved all the better for it. She and some dude (Rob Thomas?) sang a Stevie Nicks thing "Stop Dragging my Heart Around" and it brought me to my feet dancing in my sun room. This blond bomb has more soul than Macy Gray, than Aretha, than Billie. Let's keep our eyes open for her.

Billy Idol ended the show with White Wedding, an predictable choice since every fashion designer has to end his or her runway show with a bridal dress, even if no bride in her right mind would ever wear it. I love White Wedding, except that Billy Idol had to sing it with Lisa Marie Presley. I have never heard her sing before tonight, and I hope I never have to again. Lisa Marie did take a cue from Joss Stone and flipped off those shit stomper stilettoes and did the last half of the song barefoot. I think she has bigger feet than Joss, though.

All in all, the show just did not work. The sound mixer was having an off night. The musical fashionistas just could not sing. The models were beautiful. The dancers were great--by god those girls work hard for the SAG money they get paid. I hope they raised a lot of money for Katrina Relief. God knows I would have paid extra to have the show end early.

I've come out from undercover.

2005-09-09T16:25:00.000-07:00

I have shared my blogs with some of my friends and with my family. (Note Hooterdaughter's comment on I am a Hootermama). That's a bit scary, since part of the reason I see a therapist is because of my insecurity and tremendous need to have people like me and think I am a nice person. My blog is like a personal snapshot into my thoughts, my "style." What will people think about what I write?

Oh well, I think I am planning a run for public office in the future, so my blog is probably good practice for having to lay it out there for the voters someday. My blog can probably help me thicken up my skin a bit. If I can't take some blog criticism, no way will I survive an campaign in THIS town. I am absolutely the worst possible candidate---conservative, capitalist, and without a PhD----to launch a campaign in the first place, and I better have a pretty tough skin if I intend to do it. So my friends, fire away. I am out from under cover.

Are we really a bunch of greedy bastards?

2005-09-09T08:02:00.000-07:00

I went to a business meeting this morning. Business people in my town stick pretty close together. One reason is that there are so few of us---the town is small anyway, and the long standing philosophy of town government is that, while they like the filthy lucre our small businesses put into the town coffers, they really don't want the physical presence of the business itself. A citizen who makes a living providing goods and services is somehow less desirable than those who live off trust funds or government grants. For example, one of our more outspoken town leaders has called for banning all for-profit entities from doing business in our town, because the profits they make are "exploitative, self-serving, and greedy."

So this is the environment our small business owners face every time they want to expand their businesses or open in new locations. Yet they are a resilient bunch. They hang on and keep operating because they want to be here.

I listened in on several conversations this morning, and coupled with some things I already knew because of my line of work, I realized how incredibly fortunate we are that this business community isn't run off too easily. The donations they make to this community, above and beyond the taxes they contribute, are staggering. For example just in the past year locally owned businesses have contributed in many ways:

1. We have a local businessowner that almost single handedly supports the high school marching band to the tune of almost $8,000 per year.

2 A group of our business owners went in together and bought $25,000 worth of essential equipment for the local police department after the town cut its budget.

3. Businesses in the CBD voluntarily contributed $70,000+ last year for landscaping, extra trash pick up and regular street and sidewalk cleaning after the town cut its services to this district.

4. Local businesses contributed over $300,000 to the local schools for teacher discretionary funds.

5. A local business underwrites the entire program of summer activites for parks and recreation.

And today, at this morning's business meeting, we learned that a local business has donated the necessary trucks, drivers, and gasoline money to drive 3 tractor trailer loads of food and essential items to Hurricane Katrina victims.

Not bad for a bunch of "greedy, self-serving and exploitative" bastards.

Therapy means never saying goodbye.

2005-09-08T17:45:00.000-07:00

I just got back from seeing my therapist. He must have a hidden microphone in my living room, because I swear that everytime I consider quitting therapy he pulls a fast one out of his hat and manages to be wise, sage, and brilliant.

Last week when I saw him, he was trying to convince me to try a new therapeutic technique he had just learned at a conference. It involves holding two vibrators ( yes HOLDING THEM for all you dirty minded people) and repeating affirmations while doing so. The "theory" is that it helps rewire your brain to get rid of negative thinking, neglect, etc you took in as a child. For example, if the message you got from your mom is "you're not good enough" you hold these two vibrators in your hands and repeat "I am good enough" until the " billions and billions" of neurons realign themselves to hardwire in the new thinking and kick out the old thinking. ( You have to hold the vibrators in both hands to equally stimulate the right and left sides of the brain. I am not sure what would happen to you if you dropped one of these and caused a "lopsided stimulation disaster"--LSD---my therapist has not gotten that far in this training yet.).

OK, you see where this is heading. I came home, told my husband---"This is it, I am absolutely convinced now that Therapy Guy is a complete and utter quack. He is one step above a snake oil salesman. I am not seeing him another time. I'm breaking up with my therapist."

I spent the entire week rehearsing my Dear John discussion with him. Today I walk into his office, and he looks at me and says "you are stressed. What is up?" I tell him I want to talk to him about last week's session. He then, offhandedly asks me about how things are going at work. We start talking, he says, "close your eyes" and then we proceed to have this amazing session where I really had some big insight breakthroughs about what has been troubling me these past few weeks.

No I didn't hold the vibrators.

The fingerpointing you do may point back

2005-09-06T19:54:00.000-07:00

Here come the talking heads with enough fingers to point in 10 different directions at once. It reminds me of this one road we had here locally that, at one point, had 7 road signs that designated it simultanously as NORTH EAST SOUTH AND WEST (something something). How is it possible that a road can travel in all directions at once? . It even made Letterman's show as one of the stupidest and most confusing road signages in America some years ago.

But enough of that--my question was always, well which road IS IT? I realized that the answer to that question depends on where you started from and where you are going to.

Same with the relief effort and trying to figure out where things broke down. If the goal was to honor the chain of command and try to have an orderly one, then the first fingers have to point at those who didn't follow it or who refused to work on cooperative command----the mayor and the governor being on the receiving end of THAT finger pointing. The reports are beginning to come in that the governor and the mayor both refused to cooperate with a federal plan that would have mobilized resources much more quickly, mainly because Louisiana doesn't want the federal gov'mint messing in its business. Too bad guys, you can't have it both ways--you can't refuse a federal disaster plan before the event and then get pissy about the lack of one after the event.

If the goal was to be proactive with our planning and staging, then we can add FEMA guy to the line up. He learned his emergency management skills dispatching veternarians to International Arabian Horses that spooked during air transport. I am not sure that experience qualifies him to run the most important agency in America that cares for victims of Mother Nature's fury.

And Bush, well all fingers lead to Crawford. Bush is the favorite whipping boy, and probably rightfully so. After all, Bush is the man who assured us that Trent Lott's front porch would be rebuilt while many people were standing on the roofs of destroyed homes. Dubya also didn't win friends and influence people with his reminisces about the beers he quaffed in NO before he got religion and quit drinking while many of the folks in NO were awaiting a glass of clean water.

But I do want to let the finger pointers in on a little secret. Most of us Americans are more concerned right now about WHAT people need, and WHEN AND HOW our friends on the Gulf coast will see some help, than we are about WHY it wasn't sooner or WHOSE FAULT the snafu is. Time for that later. Jesse, you are not making a positive contribution to the relief efforts by by sitting in Atlanta and fanning racial tensions. Blanco, you are not helping anything by wringing your hands and crying in the camera. Ray, your best bet is to stop cussing out the President and start demanding that your citizens act like responsible adults and not a bunch of Mad Max movie extras.

Americans will want a proper investigation of what happened for several reasons. First we want to see where the holes are in our current disaster response strategy and fill them. Secondly, we want to be sure that anyone who didn't "plan the work and work the plan" is held properly accountable. Third, we want to be sure that we learn from what did not work and make sure our response plan is updated to be the best it can be in the future.

However, now is not the time. Let's get the initial phases of this relief effort completed with the resources we have. Then let's take the time necessary to thoroughly investigate everything related to this disaster.

--------------------------------------------------------------
Leadership is a characteristic of the passionate, the organized, the common sense person who can motivate, mobilize, and materialize the help people need.

5200 p/p/ all inclusive? Astrodome, or Waikiki?

2005-09-02T21:06:00.000-07:00

the Congress and President Bush have appropriated 10.5 billion dollars for the first 20 days of disaster relief for Hurrican Katrina. Good move. Where I am skeptical is that FEMA, the Department of Homeland Security, and whoever else who will receive these funds really knows how best to spend them.

Let's do the math. The population of New Orleans (most recent info) an surrounding areas is about 2 million people--this includes Biloxi, Gulfport, etc. 10.5 Billion dollars broken down to 2 million people is 5,250 per person. That much money would have bought a plane ticket to Hawaii (800 from New Orleans on a bad day) and close to two weeks at the Hilton Hawaii Hotel on Oahu, complete with meal plan.

I think I am comparing apples to apples here. The 10.5 billion is not for rebuilding or infrastructure--it is to provide food, shelter, rescue, and emergency relief in the earliest days of this disaster. OK. Would I rather have 5200 to go to Hawaii for two weeks, or 5200 for a couple of days sleeping on the floor in a building with no water, food, beds, or security, with a 6 hour bus ride to Houston, a meager cot, processed MRE's and a couple of bottles of Dasani water thrown in for good measure?

Why do we wait until after the fact to do anything? Haven't we learned that an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure?? What might have happened had we sent in a dozen chartered jets, paid for an all expenses vacation to Hawaii, the Poconos, or Disney World for these folks while Katrina was still churning off the west coast of Florida?

Perhaps we wouldn't see doctors at the breaking point, trying to care for patients while being terrorized by thugs looking for drugs. Perhaps we wouldn't have rescue personnel drowning while trying to save people from rooftops. Perhaps the Superdome wouldn't look and smell like a cesspool because of the inability to provide basic sanitation and shelter there. How would the recovery operations be different if we weren't trying to rescue stranded people ? What if all the folks in harms' way were now sitting on the beach at Waikiki?

Heartstrings of Katrina

2005-09-01T08:27:00.000-07:00

Heartbroken. Horrified. Worried about the children, the sick, the elderly. Feeling helpless. Crying with those who have lost loved ones. Angry at the people who are taking advantage of and terrorizing innocent victims. Frustrated. Hopeful when we see examples of human kindness. What to do?

Customer non-service.

2005-08-31T09:54:00.000-07:00

I returned something today at a Sam's Club. Before I went, I called to make sure I could return said item. It was purchased by my husband, on his card, with a check that has cleared the bank. We decided we didn't need it. The customer service associate I spoke to looked up the receipt and said, "sure, bring it in. You're an authorized user of this account, and the check has cleared the bank. We can give you a refund. "

This is an abbreviated version of my interaction with the same customer service person once I entered the store.

Me: I would like to return this XXXXXXXXXX. Here is my receipt.
She: Where is your Sam's Club Card?
Me: I don't have mine, this was purchased on my husband's. The number is on the receipt.
She: I have to have your card.
Me: I called and spoke to you and you said it would be OK to bring this in without the card, because the card number is on the receipt and I am an authorized user. Here is my ID.
She: You have to have a card.
Me: I am also a user of this card, just don't have it with me. Here is my ID, and here is the card number.
She: I have to see the card because it has your picture on it. I have to verify your identity by comparing the picture on the card to your photo ID.
Me. I don't have my card.
She" Let's make you a card. (She then proceeds to take my photo, makes me a card, looks at picture, looks at me ). OK, I have confirmed you are you. (WHAT??)
Me: uh, OK. (hands over X)
She: Sorry you can't return this, it hasn't been seven business days
Me: I spoke to you, you said I could return it because the check has cleared the bank.
She: I remember the call, but you didn't tell me you purchased this within seven business days. The check has cleared (somehow they can tell) but it still hasn't been 7 business days. (it had been six business days).

Finally the store manager refunds my money. Then I have to stand in line to leave, show the guy my receipt where I returned something and didn't buy anything and then they let me leave.

I haven't been to a Sam's Club in a long time. Now I remember why.

I am a hootermama

2005-08-30T17:58:00.000-07:00

I'm still trying to get this one to roll off the tongue. "My daughter works at Hooters."

My daughter just got a job at Hooters. For those of you who live in more culturally refined or culturally innocent areas, Hooters is a restaurant/bar that was started in Clearwater, Fla by a bunch of cigar smoking, poker playing, beer bellied guys. (at least that's my visual). The name is....well, a matter of discussion. From the company's website www.hooters.com

"The chain acknowledges that many consider "Hooters" a slang term for a portion of the female anatomy. Hooters does have an owl inside its logo and uses an owl theme sufficiently to allow debate to occur over the meaning's intent. The chain enjoys and benefits from this debate. In the end, we hope Hooters means a great place to eat. "

Claims that Hooters exploits attractive women are as ridiculous as saying the NFL exploits men who are big and fast. Hooters Girls have the same right to use their natural female sex appeal to earn a living as do super models Cindy Crawford and Naomi Campbell. To Hooters, the women's rights movement is important because it guarantees women have the right to choose their own careers, be it a Supreme Court Justice or Hooters Girl. "

How come this doesn't make me feel better? Maybe because my Hootergirl, unlike Naomi Campbell, isn't going to earn 10,000 dollars a day carrying trays of chicken wings and beer to drunk Marines? Maybe because I am concerned that her Hooter days might come up in her confirmation hearings or in her security clearance background check and cause some concern from the establishment?

At least my Hootergirl isn't wearing bunny ears and a tail, or isn't nicknamed Miss September. She's wearing more clothing to work than Britney Spears did on her concert tour. There are no videos of Hooterdaughter multitasking on a cellphone and a bed circulating on the Internet. Thank God for small favors.

Being a Playboy Bunny didn't hurt Gloria Steinem too much. And wasn't there a stripper or porn star in the last Italian Government?

We hold these things to be self evident.........

2005-08-30T07:58:00.000-07:00

I've hit a real wall in blogging. When I started, I thought I wouldn't have enough hours in the day to write down all the intelligent, witty, and profound things that I wanted to say. It didn't take very long for me to realize that writing something interesting everytime I wanted to just isn't all that easy.

I live in a very smart, well educated community. It's impossible to have a simple discussion about anything. If you ever broach a subject with someone, be prepared to support your assertion with examples, cites from experts, and statistics. For example, if you say--I think it will rain today--you better be able to cite the meteorologist you heard it from, discuss intelligently the weather patterns that might possibly mitigate the rain, and give some statistical historical probabilities about the last time it rained.

Sometimes I just don't want to be that smart, and sometimes a comment is so self evident that it ought to fall in the realm of indisputable truisms. I don't want to debate the logic or merits of some of the things I believe.

So, here are some Small Town Diva truisms:

It is not rocket science to connect a category 5 hurricane with the loss of power, water, food, and essential services. If you need any of these things, you need to get out of the path of said hurricane.

You cannot find a job by surfing the internet.

I have never seen a neurotic duck.

You generally get back in multiples the vibes you throw out into the universe.

Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different outcomes.

There is no reason why divorced people can't get along if they really want to. Doing so is better for everyone, especially your children.

There are two components to everything that happens to us---what actually happened, and what we make it mean. We cannot change what happened, but we can change what it means to us. If we did more of that, we would probably be happier.

All teenage boys will wreck a car at least once.

If you have unprotected sex, you might get pregnant. In fact, if you have protected sex, you still might get pregnant. Please do not say, "I just don't know how this happened."

Smoking causes lung problems. Hiding it from your friends and family doesn't change its effects on your body.

People need to sleep more.

The ONLY way to lose weight is to eat less and/or exercise more. PERIOD.

People over 40 can have wonderful sex lives.

The price of gas is only going to go up.

If you want your children to be self reliant, you have to stop hovering over them.

You probably don't have a rich relative that is going to die and leave you lots of money, so stop spending like you do.

Social Security will not support you in your retirement.

The person who marries for money will earn it.

Call your parents at least once a week.

Be nice to your inlaws.

Wow, amazing what you get when you ask

2005-08-25T17:02:00.000-07:00

I am positively in a flitter. I absolutely cannot believe what I have just done. I am the little engine that could---I think I can, I think I can!

What has excited me so much? I called up the CEO of one of the coolest companies I know in my hometown. It is a heavy hitting global organization and the CEO is a regular guest on national television commenting on his area of expertise. It is really strange to have this company in this relatively little town, and it's one of the bragging points of our local community.

We have had several nice conversations and we have always seemed to hit it off. Anyway, I called him up and asked him if he wanted to have lunch with me and he was really excited and said yes!

This is not a romantic thing people--he adores his wife, I adore my husband, but I do some business with his company and we have always been able to engage in lots of small talk very easily. My colleague will vouch for this, even though she thinks at some level I am acting like a school girl with a crush about this lunch.

I can't believe he wants to go to lunch with me! I want to cultivate that relationship for a lot of reasons. First, I just happen to think the guy is really interesting. He's smart and well travelled--he and I have been to many of the same places. Second, he's a good client. His company has paid us a lot of money for consulting services in the past year.

You know, I think part of what he likes about me is that I treat him like a regular guy. He is probably the biggest fish in our pond, (if I am the small town diva, he is DIVO--n. masculine form of diva--- pure and simple) and most people can't believe that I even know him, much less that I call him by his first name or that he takes my phone calls. He speaks to me every time he sees me, tells about what his wife and kids are doing, and always asks after my family. Maybe he is not often asked out to lunch by a small town diva too often. I don't know, I am just glad he said YES.

I will keep you posted, I have a feeling this is a step in the right direction for me.

If the shoe fits, wear it.

2005-08-23T15:30:00.000-07:00

I had an interesting experience today. I got invited on a tour of a major facility nearby because I am on their list of "community leaders.' Now this is part of why I call myself a small town diva. I can be a community leader in my home community because there aren't that many people here to begin with, and because I like to comment on matters of community interest and make sure I know everybody. However, if you asked me about myself, I am not sure that "community leader" would be a way in which I would identify myself---at least not until today. Today got the wheels turning. By golly, I think I'll try on that shoe and see if it fits.

Which led me to start thinking about leadership in general. What exactly is a leader? When does a person make a transition from "leader-in-training" to "actual leader?"

In my own case, I think I have become what at least some people consider a community leader mainly because I have decided to be one. My opinion is just as good as anybody else's, and I have gotten much more comfortable saying what I think. I have also decided to step up to the plate and lead on a couple of projects when I thought that the project was worthy and/or was interesting to me. I am not afraid to be wrong, but I'm also not afraid to tell you (politely of course) when I think you are. I have also gotten much better at listening to other people and not jumping to conclusions too quickly. That one is really hard for an opinionated Small Town Diva like myself.

About six months ago, my colleague and I did some consulting work in which we were able to work closely with our town's mayor and some other community and business leaders. During that time, I saw a room full of leaders work together to get a project done. It was an amazing opportunity, to see these leaders in action, and even more amazing was the professional friendships she and I made with those people. They respected us for our work, and I gained even more respect for them. . Because of this project, today the mayor says hello to me even before I say hello to him. I know all about his new dog, and recently gave him a cute collar for said dog. The mayor is a great guy, and I feel fortunate to consider him a professional friend and to have his ear and his respect. Same for the other participants in that project.

I used to really be in awe of people in positions of leadership. I am still in awe of them today, but for different reasons. It takes a committed person to lead something, be it a town or a football team. A leader gives up a lot of privacy, and often takes a lot of crap from people who don't have the full picture of a situation and therefore do not understand the decisions you make.

So why do people rise to leadership? Generally because they feel very strongly about something, and want to be sure it gets done the way they think it should be. Good leaders are also people who often feel the need to serve an organization, and their talents happen to be in the area of visioning, strategic planning, and motivating others to the cause.

I'll let you know how well the shoe fits for me down the road.

you get what you pay for

2005-08-22T12:49:00.000-07:00

I generally like the work I do. We are a consulting firm of a sort, and people are usually absolutely thrilled with our work when we finish a project. I like my colleague, I like our administrative assistant, and I like almost every client we work with. Completing an assignment usually results in profuse "thank yous" from the parties involved. Pretty sweet, right??? However, I am in the doldrums right now. My work necessitates that I go out and find business on an ongoing basis, and right now I HATE DRUMMING UP BUSINESS.

I am having a terrible time motivating myself to go out and get business. I don't want to make the appointments, I don't want to do the pitches, I don't want to close the deal. I want business to COME TO ME. I want it to fall out of the sky, I want it to be attracted to my shining personality, I want people to beat my door down and offer to pay us big money to do what we do. I am tired of hearing people ask me to reduce our fees or hearing people say that they so and so will do this for less money. Fine then get the other person to do this work for you. Oh, you want to work with US because you hear we are better than the other guy? Well we are, but DUH, that's why we charge more----we do it right the first time, and you won't have to pay someone to come behind us and redo anything we have done for you.

You can stay at a Motel 6 or at a Hyatt-- but don't expect Hyatt service at a Motel 6 price.Our company is not after the price point business- we are after the business that recognizes the value we give and is willing to pay for it.

I HATE the sales call numbers game. I hate the hang ups, the "no thanks," the "why would I pay you to do that?" comments.

Any good business development people out there looking for work? PIck up the phone and give us a call. We won't hang up.

The tupperware is in order

2005-08-22T09:59:00.000-07:00

Whenever I get anxious and overwhelmed, I start organizing drawers, cabinets, and closets. It soothes me. There is nothing more satisfying to my psyche than to see all that tupperware, nestled appropriately for maximum storage efficiency, and ALL THE LIDS organized by size accompanying said tupperware.

Tupperware, now there's a brand name that has become a generic word meaning "plastic storage containers." I don't even think I have a single piece of real "TUPPERWARE." Do I think that all plasticware is equivalent in quality to Tupperware? I don't know. I generally buy one of those 37 piece sets they sell at Wal-Mart for 77 cents or some such obscenely low price. About 30 of those 37 pieces are completely useless in my kitchen. I don't think I've had any food spoil because I don't hear the Tupperware seal of authenticity 'burp' when I put the lid on it.

There are other brands whose identities have superimposed themselves onto all similar products. Scotch tape, Kleenex, Xerox, and Fridgidare (Fridge) come to mind. I wonder if the companies that own these brand names are happy or not about this shift in identity. Does it improve the cachet of Kleenex for all other nose tissue to be called Kleenex??? Does the brand identity suffer?

But back to organizing. I was able to discharge this week's stress with a simple kitchen cabinet reorganization. Higher stress levels require extraordinary measures. During my divorce from IceMan, I reorganized and mapped my attic, complete with an inventory of each and every storage box, a schematic of where it was in the attic, and a color coded taped walkway through the entire space.

My garage, formerly IceMan's pseudo macho "woodworking area" (He was working his wood in there all right, but not the kind that grows on trees---he had his own version of Tool Time in there, complete with Tool Time girl) got a complete overhaul. By the time I was finished in there, I could have conducted DNA testing for the local crime lab. It was beautiful---rows and rows of small baby food jars, filled with screws and hardware sorted by size and mounted underneath the shelves I built (I am very handy). I again inventoried everything in there and posted a schematic about where everything should be returned after being used----the lawn mower had its place, the weed eater its own, and all my garden tools had a home.

It doesn't look that way anymore. I married Sanford (or his son, I am not sure) and have had to cede control of the garage and return it to male domination . Sometimes I can actually walk around in there, in between the piles of junk, but mostly I just don't look. My husband does not derive any reduction in tension by organizing things. He goes fishing.

Where is the fan club?

2005-08-20T20:19:00.000-07:00

Perhaps I have had unrealistic expectations. I thought you wrote a blog, and then people read it, had some reaction to it, and hastily wrote you back to tell you what they thought of your blog. Yet here I am, more than three days into my blogging, and I have YET to have a single hit. What the hell?

I've perused this website, and have found many lonely blogs. Some of them have been incredibly poignant. Dummy for Recovery http://www.blogger.com/profile/10441805 I found because she likes the same movie I do. What a courageous person she is to put her struggle out there on the 'net for us all to share. I love her. I identify with her. Yet I think I was the first person beside herself to actually look at her blog. What does that mean? There is good stuff out there, but we can't find each other.

http://fnrthomas.blogspot.com/ now this guy is living life. In a week he is talking about his hair, the beatles, and Microsoft. He must be a baby boomer.

Does anyone know how to propagate our blogs into cyberspace? There are stories to be heard.

xooxxoxo hugs and kisses. I throw my happy energy into the universe and anticipate what comes back.

Where DO old cheerleaders go when they die?

2005-08-20T20:11:00.000-07:00

Oh my god, I have just spent an evening with the 1974 Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. No, let me correct that. I have just spent an evening with the girls who WANTED to be the Class of 1974 Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders. They showed up at my son's first high school football game.

My first tip was that all four of them had EXACTLY the same hair==a $250 highlight job that carefully overrode the gray they woke up with and gave them all this almost natural, but-something-is not-exactly-right shade of what we euphemistically used to call "dishwater" blonde. It was the same cut too---a cute bob with poofy bangs that one of them had clipped in a pseudo-casual-disheveled knot that probably took her a half hour to perfect. Another had hers in a bit of a pony tail, carefully organized to hide the nip and tuck evidence around her ears. Their noses, in profile, looked like the intermediate slopes at Mount Snow. They wore matching twin sets, with different versions of the same khaki skirt.

Only in their choice of footwear was there any hint of rebellion. One had a green pair of slides, sequins flashing. Another had a very cool pair of Island flipflops on, with a very nice pedicure to match ( I have NO idea where she got that, there hasn't been a good pedicure artist in town since the Spa closed). I personally liked the Prada slides that Buffy #3 was wearing---clean lines, good leather, interesting shade of lavender. She obviously did not know the pedicure artist that Buffy #2 did----her heels looked ROUGH.

They sat down in front of me and got down to business. Buffy #1 whipped out her cell phone and got BuffyHusband #1 on the phone to narrate the play by play----"Darling, he looks so small out there next to those guys OH MY GOD he is running down the field

"Deeefense, honeee, yew can dew it!" Honey, what number is he anyway??"

Buffy #2 filed her nails all evening.

Buffy #3 drank the contents of her leopard skin flask during the first quarter and spent the rest of the game swaying back and forth to the bathroom past the fathers who were hanging over the fence yelling out alternate plays to their boys and cussing at the referees. She swayed impressively enough to break their concentration on several occasions. It was a small flask, and she also wasn't wearing a wedding ring, so I assume those dozen visits back and forth were not simply motivated by need---or maybe they were, but a need of a different type.

Buffy#4 brushed her hair---A LOT---and studied her People magazine between plays.

Debbie, Sherry, Peggy---I have surely missed you. I wonder how you're doing these days.

Why is logic in such short supply?

2005-08-19T14:52:00.000-07:00

I just had lunch with someone who works for our local government. She was explaining to me why it's so hard to get anything done in this town. Apparently we have something like 150 advisory boards to help our elected officials and government staff understand what we, the people, want. Anytime someone proposes something, be it a new parks and rec offering, a commercial development, or a new staff position, all 150 of these advisory boards have the right to review said proposal and make a report about how the new proposal looks from that particular advisory group's perspective.

The town recently decided to rent some office space for one of its departments. The "appearance board" decided to weigh in on whether said space looked appropriate for our town to be occupying, the "bicycle commission" weighed in on whether the new location was accessible to bicyclists, and the "tree commission" interjected its two cents about whether the office grounds had enough trees to satisfy its sense of aesthetics. We should know in about 6 months whether we, the people, approve this space. The poor suckers who are currently working in the hallway of city hall will just, by God, have to wait.

Bad Moon Rising

2005-08-19T12:44:00.000-07:00

Well the bad mood is continuing. I just got off the phone with my husband after raking him over the coals for his lack of attentiveness to my needs, how he doesn't make me a priority, blah blah ___________(fill in the blank).

It must be coming up on "that time of the month." I am working myself into a progesterone fueled, full fledged HISSY FIT. Go ahead, you mysogynists--you have my permission to dish it up. Sometimes women ARE whiny bitches.

OK, it is all about me

2005-08-19T11:26:00.000-07:00

Well, it seems as though everybody is doing it, so if I can’t beat them I will join them. After lurking around some of the infamous blog sites, I’ve decided to bare my guts in the relative anonymity of cyber reality. I have a distinct feeling that writing a blog is a lot harder than it seems.

I woke up mad as hell. I guess it isn’t a surprise, since I went to bed mad as hell. I am having serious hospitality fatigue. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy seeing people. I am just struggling to enjoy having houseguests night after night after night during the week when I have to get up and go to work all day. I have had houseguests when I myself have not been home. I have had houseguests I don't know because one or the other of my friends needs a place for their friends to stay. I have had multiple houseguests, who are not on the same visit trajectory, who intersect at my house on the same evening, in kind of a "perfect storm" scenario. All my kids have had friends stay over multiple nights. I just cannot keep up with changing the sheets on the guest bed, making sure the towels are clean, and preparing food for all these people, especially since during the week I often have meetings after work. There's probably a bit of jealousy too---all these people are on vacation, but I am working.

I talk to people all day long in my job, and I just can't talk all night, night after night, too. I am going to a hotel for a silent retreat. No I don't know where the clean towels or sheets are. You are welcome to look for some, or wash the ones that are on the bed.

Oh and another thing. I hate teenagers and young adults right now. I am tired of walking in from a long day at work and having teenagers and young adults piled up on the sofas, blinds drawn, bleary eyed from all day marathons of South Park and The Real World, coupled with a night shift of MTV and SNL. Empty popcorn bags and half full cans of Sierra Mist are everywhere, and all the frozen pizzas and cookies and cream ice cream have been devoured. The young adults have gone through a case of beer, with beer cans and headaches to prove it.

Let me tell you what the fall 2005 version of the “ Real World—Small Town Diva Style” is going to be, lovely children. It’s you getting off your asses, cleaning up after yourselves and resting and rising with the rest of us. No more bitching because you can’t record three programs at the same time or because the PinP isn’t working properly. The blinds are staying open. The beer truck is gone. No food allowed in the living room. No sleeping except on a bed. The Night Shift is OVER.